


He is the Master of His Fate, She is the Captain of Her Soul

by ScullyLikesScience



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, F/M, Post-Canon, Post-I Want to Believe, Resolved Sexual Tension, Season/Series 07, Season/Series 08, Season/Series 09, Season/Series 10, Season/Series 11, Unresolved Sexual Tension, a lot of smut, but it is what it is, too much really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:36:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 153
Words: 902,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2249355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScullyLikesScience/pseuds/ScullyLikesScience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story begins during the final events of “The Sixth Extinction II: Amor Fati.” It then chronicles a canon-compliant progression of Mulder and Scully's relationship throughout Season 7, including the beginning of their love affair, and on through Seasons 8 & 9. The story will conclude post-IWTB, and may or may not incorporate Season 10 & 11 storylines.</p>
<p>Table of Contents:</p>
<p>Season 7 - Chapters 1-75<br/>Season 8 - Chapters 76-100<br/>Season 9 - Chapters 101-121<br/>Post-S9 - Chapters 122-149<br/>IWTB - Chapters 150 & 151</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "There are more worlds than the one you can hold in your hand."

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Mulder and Scully nor any others that appear in The X-Files universe. They belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and 20th Century Fox. If they did belong to me, Seasons 8 & 9 and IWTB would've been very different. Also, the phrase "dollars to doughnuts" would never have been uttered by a single person on this show.
> 
> The title of this story is a word play on the poem “Invictus” by William Ernest Henley:
> 
> Out of the night that covers me,  
> Black as the pit from pole to pole,  
> I thank whatever gods may be  
> For my unconquerable soul.
> 
> In the fell clutch of circumstance  
> I have not winced nor cried aloud.  
> Under the bludgeonings of chance  
> My head is bloody, but unbowed.
> 
> Beyond this place of wrath and tears  
> Looms but the Horror of the shade,  
> And yet the menace of the years  
> Finds and shall find me unafraid.
> 
> It matters not how strait the gate,  
> How charged with punishments the scroll,  
> I am the master of my fate,  
> I am the captain of my soul.

"Thank you for telling me," said FBI Special Agent Dana Scully before hanging up the phone and letting out a deep sigh. How was she going to tell Mulder this news? He was still recovering from his ordeal. She could think of numerous reasons to wait on this, but knew that she couldn't keep Diana's murder from him and it would be better to get the news from her anyways. Maybe. Whenever the two had discussed Diana Fowley, an argument had always erupted. She grabbed her car keys, locked the basement office door, and made her way to the parking garage.

As she started to drive in the direction of Special Agent Fox Mulder's apartment, her mind wandered to the events of the past week...

It appeared to Scully that those who took Mulder and operated on him hadn’t decided to stick around, and maybe even left him for dead. His bandaged head worried her immensely and she feared she was too late. Finally, she heard something that was music to her ears: “You… help… me.” Mulder’s voice sent waves of relief through Scully and she was able to get him to sit up on the table. She managed to get him to his feet and out the door, but their progress through the facility was slow-moving as she bore the majority of his weight.

Amazingly, that section of the DoD seemed to be deserted. Scully thought it was way too easy getting Mulder out of there. No one stopped them. In fact, she wasn’t questioned by a single person during their entire passage out of the facility. She assumed that the reason could be the key card that had been slipped under her door allowed her certain levels of clearance within the DoD, and while this was all extremely suspicious, at that moment she was too consumed with getting him out of there safely.

Once Scully had gotten him into the back seat of her car, she drove to Georgetown Memorial Hospital. For the next five days, the Department of Neurosurgery did test after test and finally cleared Mulder of the abnormal brain activity that he had suffered from weeks earlier.

“I don’t need those tests to tell me that my brain is back to normal, Scully,” he said from his hospital bed. “I already know it is. I knew it from the moment I woke up in that room and saw you there.”

Scully, who had remained at the hospital night and day by his side, was nonplussed. “I don’t see how that could be possible, Mulder. I didn’t have any of the rubbings on me. We couldn’t have known whether it would affect you the same way or not. Besides, you’d had your head cut open by goodness knows who or even what they did to you.”

He sighed. “I knew I was okay because I couldn’t read your mind anymore.”

She returned this statement with a blank stare and then a carefully arched eyebrow. “Excuse me? You’re saying you could read minds? Maybe you need to stay in the hospital longer, Mulder.”

“Scully, you have to believe me,” he replied. “It all started when I was shown those rubbings from the craft. I suddenly could hear all these voices. I didn't understand what was happening at the time. But when I was all doped up in the psychiatric ward, everything became clearer. I could read people’s minds. The doctors, Skinner, Kritschgau, my mother. Whenever they came into my room to see me, I could hear their thoughts. But I was unable to respond. Most of the time, it was all one confusing blur of sounds as everyone’s thoughts blended together whenever there were people outside my room. And nearly everyone who stood by my hospital bed spoke lies to me. The things that they said were not what their thoughts were saying.”

“If that’s true, then I guess you can now sympathize even more with Gibson Praise,” she remarked.

Mulder continued, gazing steadily into her eyes. “When everyone’s thoughts were just noise, there was one voice that stood out above the din. There was only one person in whom I could find no deceit, who didn’t have something to hide. There was only one person who spoke the complete truth."

“So, when I came back from Africa and spoke to you in the hospital, you could also hear what I was thinking?” Scully asked.

“Yes,” Mulder responded.

He watched as Scully’s face began to redden, but she didn’t look away. The two partners stared at each other for some seconds before a nurse entered the room with discharge papers.

...Once Mulder returned home, Scully continued to worry about him. Every couple hours she would give him a call to make sure he was all right. Her biggest fear was that the Cigarette Smoking Man would come for him again, that he wasn’t safe. This morning, one week after rescuing Mulder, she received the phone call informing her of Agent Diana Fowley’s murder.

The Metro PD didn’t have any leads and Scully knew that they would most likely never find the shooter. At that moment, she knew who had given her the DoD key card. She also realized that Diana Fowley had paid for that action with her life. Scully was unsure how this news would affect Mulder. Months earlier they had both seemingly come to a tacit agreement that Diana Fowley was a subject better left unspoken. It sure made for a more peaceful working relationship. She had been suspicious of Diana from the moment she returned to the FBI in Washington over a year ago. Events that occurred since then left little doubt in her mind of who Diana was really working for. These were suspicions that Mulder didn’t want to hear about, and it had started to create problems within their partnership.

Scully could understand that Mulder did not want to confront these possible truths about Diana because then he’d have to confront the validity of his past relationship with her all those years ago. These issues seemingly went unspoken in an effort to avoid the bickering that had been happening much more frequently since they had returned from Antarctica. Sometimes it seemed that they were constantly at odds. There was rarely any agreement between them, and if there was, compromise was reached begrudgingly. Everything was a battle. What once would have been a partial and impassioned discussion, was now always an argument. There was so much frustration simply in the tone of voice they were using with each other.

Thankfully, the bickering had lessened recently. But now there was a marked silent tension between them that at times was so thick Scully felt one could cut through it with a knife. For a while, she thought the tension and bickering only occurred whenever Diana was discussed, but truthfully the tension was there at all times.

Scully was afraid to ask Mulder about Diana, afraid of what he’d say, afraid of how he might feel about Diana, afraid to learn that he was seeing her outside the workplace, afraid to learn that she needed to compete with her, and that if pushed, he would actually choose Diana. Scully had decided that she’d rather not know. She had tried to convince herself that she was simply afraid of being pushed out of the X-Files, being pushed out of a partnership with Mulder, and that he would rather have a partner that agreed with his theories instead of one who questioned his every idea.

In reality, Scully was afraid of her own fear and what it truly meant, was afraid of her own feelings, which the emergence of Diana Fowley had forced her to accept once and for all. However, acknowledgement of her feelings was one thing, speaking them out loud was another thing altogether. As she drove from the office to Mulder’s apartment, she wondered if Diana’s murder would have an adverse effect on their partnership. She may have been afraid to learn that his feelings for her didn’t run as deep, but she knew that she couldn’t handle the tension anymore.

*****

Upon hanging up the phone, Mulder sat in silent reverie. Albert Hosteen was dead, and he’d been in a coma for two weeks. He also hadn’t left New Mexico in almost a year. So how could he have travelled to Washington to see Scully last week? Could she have just dreamed it? Or, in a state of exhaustion, have hallucinated the whole thing? It wasn’t like her to confuse reality. He needed to talk to her right away. He got back on the phone and called the office.

“Voicemail. Damn,” he said aloud before hanging up. It had only been two days since he’d seen her, but it felt like much longer. The thought of heading to work and hanging out with her in the office was very appealing. He knew he was supposed to be resting, but he couldn’t wait. He headed into the bedroom to get dressed.

Scully parked outside Mulder’s apartment building, but it took her a minute or two to steel herself before getting out of the car.


	2. “Has anyone ever told you two you have a great problem coming to the point?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder finally starts to open his eyes.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from "The Sixth Extinction II: Amor Fati" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter and David Duchovny (actually the scene I'm quoting from was written specifically by DD), and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snow Patrol - "Open Your Eyes"
> 
> All this feels strange and untrue  
> And I won't waste a minute without you  
> My bones ache, my skin feels cold  
> And I'm getting so tired and so old
> 
> The anger swells in my guts  
> And I won't feel these slices and cuts  
> I want so much to open your eyes  
> 'Cause I need you to look into mine
> 
> Tell me that you'll open your eyes
> 
> Get up, get out, get away from these liars  
> 'Cause they don't get your soul or your fire  
> Take my hand, knot your fingers through mine  
> And we'll walk from this dark room for the last time
> 
> Every minute from this minute now  
> We can do what we like anywhere  
> I want so much to open your eyes  
> 'Cause I need you to look into mine
> 
> Tell me that you'll open your eyes
> 
> All this feels strange and untrue  
> And I won't waste a minute without you

The month of June came to a close and Mulder was facing a six-week medical leave of absence from work. Most people would be overjoyed to have the entire summer off work. He wasn’t too enthused. He had nearly two months of freedom to rest his mind, strengthen his body, and generally take things easy. The six lonely weeks stretching out in front of him seemed like an eternity. He’d rather be in the office doing research. He’d rather be heading down to see The Lone Gunmen or Chuck Burks whenever they discovered something new and weird. He’d rather be hopping on planes and chasing leads of paranormal activity all over the country. He’d rather be with Scully.

Mulder couldn’t help but smile as his mind turned to Scully. Since that day she had come to his apartment to tell him about Diana’s tragic death two weeks ago, he had felt a noticeable shift in their dynamic. The words they spoke to each other in his hallway felt almost like a vow or confirmation. Yet again, he played the scene out in his mind…

_Scully was standing in front him, in tears, having a crisis of faith, and he's the fool who was standing there trying to hide his head bandages with a Yankees cap and cracking dumb jokes._

_“I don’t know what the truth is. I don’t know who to listen to. I don’t know who to trust,” she said as she started to cry. “Diana Fowley was found murdered this morning._ _I never trusted her, but she helped save your life just as much as I did._ _She gave me that book. It was her key that led me to you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know she was your friend.”_

_Scully must've been having a real crisis if she’s suddenly giving Diana credit. Was Diana his friend? She may have helped Scully get into that DoD facility, but the damage was done. She stood by his hospital bed and told him she loved him, while at the same time selling him out to the one man he despised. Diana was weak, and self-serving. Nearly every interaction between them from the moment they met had been a manipulation. She’d been working with **him** all along. Scully had tried to warn Mulder, to make him see the truth about Diana, and he'd refused to listen. For the first time in six years, he shut her down and wouldn’t even hear what she had to say. He was a fucking fool. Diana was **not**  his friend. She never was._

_He wrapped his arms around Scully as she cried. When was the last time he had held her like this? He couldn’t even remember. What had happened to them? Why did they waste an entire year being constantly at odds with one another? Oh God, it was dawning on him that he almost lost her. And not because of his illness. He didn't know how much longer she would have stayed with him if he'd allowed Diana to continue to wedge herself between them. He had to make this right. How could he tell her that Diana had never been a real threat? How could he make her see that no one could ever mean more to him than she does? He had to make her see…_

_“Scully, I was like you once — I didn’t know who to trust. Then I… I chose another path… another life, another fate, where I found my sister. Even though my world was unrecognizable and upside down, there was one thing that remained the same.”_

_He held her face in his hands and looked her in the eye. She then held onto his wrists. He had to make her see._

_“ **You** … were my friend, and you told me the truth. Even when the world was falling apart, you were my constant… my touchstone.”_

_“And you are mine,” she said._

_For a split second Mulder thought Scully was going to kiss him, and then she went for the forehead. But the way she was looking at him, caressing his face, and brushing her thumbs over his lips. A thousand unspoken words passed between them. Something was about to happen. And then she walked away without saying another word. What was happening?_

…Mulder now felt an immense sense of relief, as if a heavy weight that had been holding him down for a long time had been suddenly lifted. His recent conversations with Scully were more light-hearted than they’d been in quite a while. Gone was that overwhelming feeling he’d had for a long time: that neither of them were happy, but no one was saying anything about it, and so a palpable tension was thickening the air between them. Replaced was an uplifting, positive feeling that was almost, dare he think it… hopeful. With Scully’s remarkable discovery in Africa and the work she accomplished there, Mulder felt that their once at-odds belief systems were starting to find common ground. He felt excited about what this meant for the future and what they had yet to accomplish. And there was something more, something much deeper that went beyond the work. But what else he felt hopeful about, he wasn’t quite sure.

Mulder did notice that the feeling would rise up whenever he talked to Scully on the phone, and was especially powerful during the times he was able to see her in the past couple weeks. She had formed the habit of stopping by his apartment every morning before work, and he would catch himself smiling like an idiot whenever he thought she wasn’t looking at him. Then he’d suddenly get a nervous, butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling and want to run from the room. Mulder was confused about this new hopeful, nervous feeling and didn’t really know what to do about it. So he found himself deflecting most serious conversations with even more lame jokes than usual. Thankfully, Scully didn’t seem to notice.

*****

Something had happened. Scully didn’t know what and she couldn’t begin to explain why she felt that way. What was this feeling? She had spent most of the past year with a knot of fear in the pit of her stomach, and it had started to slowly dissipate since that night she played baseball with Mulder a couple months ago. But that seemed so long ago now and so much had happened since then. His recent ordeal and the re-emergence of Diana Fowley had caused that knot to tighten up again. But something definitely had happened in Mulder’s hallway. Could she possibly feel… happy? Scully found herself smiling at odd times, like while folding laundry or standing over the sink washing dishes. This didn’t happen so often at work, though.

She was still bogged down with paperwork. The FBI wanted a detailed report of everything that occurred in Africa and how she got Mulder out of the Department of Defense, but Scully wasn’t so sure that was such a good idea. Being in the basement office without Mulder was incredibly dull. She had no idea what he did down there in the two years before she partnered up with him. Not much, in any case. She found herself going outside for walks quite often just to relieve the banality.

Mulder had put up a decent fight about taking a leave of absence, but Scully was adamant that he not return to work any time soon. There was still so much that was unknown about his previous condition: what truly caused it, how much damage had been done to him while he was operated on, and what any long-lasting effects there might be. Scully would much rather have Mulder in the office with her, but she knew that a couple months away from work would do him good. One thing she couldn’t prevent, nor did she really try to, was how often he called the office to talk to her. Apparently he felt staying at home was just as mundane as she felt about working in an empty office.

Their phone conversations would start off work-related and then soon would drift off into random topics ranging from childhood memories to whatever Mulder had just watched on the History Channel. These phone calls were also not just limited to work hours. Last week, a phone call from Mulder had awoken Scully from a sound sleep at 2:30 am. She panicked, thinking something was horribly wrong, and jumped out of bed to run for the phone. But there was no need for alarm. He just couldn’t sleep so he thought he’d call her up and talk to her about his latest theory concerning “ancient aliens” and the Navajo.

At first, Scully was furious. Why in the world did Mulder think it was a good idea to wake her up in the middle of the night just to chat?! This conversation easily could’ve waited for a more decent hour. But then she realized that this was something he used to do all the time. She suddenly remembered that going to bed every night with the phone next to her pillow had been just as much an automatic habit as brushing her teeth. The silent tension between them had started to create distance as well. She realized that he had stopped making these usual late-night phone calls since that whole ordeal with Cassandra Spender, and they came to blows over Diana Fowley’s involvement. Except that wasn’t true. There had been one late-night phone call since then…

Back in the spring, when they had returned home following their hospital stay in North Carolina, Mulder called up Scully quite late at night because he couldn’t sleep.

“I just wanted to hear your voice,” he had said. “And assure myself that we still weren’t trapped in that field with a giant carnivorous mushroom.”

“We are definitely safe and sound, Mulder,” she replied. “There’s no need to worry.”

“I didn’t wake you up, did I, Scully?” he asked.

“No, I couldn’t sleep either.” 

He finally spoke after a pregnant pause. “I don’t suppose you’ve figured out how we were both having the same exact hallucination?” 

“I have no idea, Mulder. It doesn’t really make any sense, which I guess is par for the course with us,” she replied. “I have no idea how I’m going to explain it in the report.”

“You’ll find a way,” he said. “Goodnight, Scully. See you in the morning.” Then he hung up without waiting for a response.

 _Sure, she will. How in the world could she explain how a giant fungus knew that she and Mulder were so intrinsically co-dependent that they would need to be in the same hallucination?_ Scully thought.

…And that was the last time the two partners had shared a casual, late-night phone conversation up until last week, and which was now becoming an almost nightly occurrence. New rituals had also been added to their routine. Every morning before work, Scully would stop by his apartment with breakfast. At first she told herself that as Mulder’s doctor, she needed to make sure that he was taking care of himself. But after a few days, she stopped with the excuses and admitted to herself that she just wanted his company.

Surprisingly, over breakfast he didn’t want to talk about work, the X-Files, alien spaceships, or government conspiracies. Instead, they would talk about their lives, ask after family members, and tell stories that hadn’t already been shared. Mulder was also always smiling at her. He seemed happy, happier than she’d really ever seen him. Yes, something definitely had happened.


	3. “Yeah, but I’m no Eddie Van Blundht, either.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Fourth of July weekend filled with UST and angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red – “Pieces”
> 
> I'm here again  
> A thousand miles away from you  
> A broken mess, just scattered pieces of who I am  
> I tried so hard  
> Thought I could do this on my own  
> I've lost so much along the way
> 
> Then I see your face  
> I know I'm finally yours  
> I find everything I thought I lost before  
> You call my name  
> I come to you in pieces  
> So you can make me whole
> 
> I've come undone  
> But you make sense of who I am  
> Like puzzle pieces in your hand
> 
> Then I see your face  
> I know I'm finally yours  
> I find everything I thought I lost before  
> You call my name  
> I come to you in pieces  
> So you can make me whole
> 
> I tried so hard  
> So hard  
> I tried so hard
> 
> Then I see your face  
> I know I'm finally yours  
> I find everything I thought I lost before  
> You call my name  
> I come to you in pieces  
> So you can make me whole  
> So you can make me whole  
> 

Fourth of July weekend had arrived, and surprisingly Mrs. Scully had invited Mulder to her house for the family BBQ on Sunday. A long afternoon spent in Bill Jr’s company wasn’t exactly his ideal way to spend the holiday weekend. He decided to skip it and go visit his mother. Scully hated the idea of him driving alone for over 250 miles, it made her feel uneasy. He’d only been out of the hospital for a few weeks. What if something happened to him? She tried to get Mulder to buy a plane ticket instead, but he was adamant that he was perfectly fine and that she should stop worrying about him.

While Mulder was packing up a duffel bag on Friday morning, July 2nd, his stomach started to growl and let out a sigh. He was a little concerned that Scully hadn’t come by for breakfast. Was she annoyed that he was going away for the weekend? She had been fine the night before. Every evening this week, he had gone to her apartment and helped her work on the report for Skinner. They had laid out all the rubbings of the spaceship on her floor, spent hours putting them together like a puzzle, and reading from the book _Native American Beliefs and Practices._ They usually ended up talking in circles in their attempt to make sense of it.

Mulder could tell that it all frightened Scully: the notion of God writing his Word on an alien spacecraft or the even scarier idea that there never had been a God in the first place. One of the things Mulder most admired in her was that despite everything she knew about science, she still held on to the hope that there was a greater Power out there in the universe. One that was most certainly not alien.

He wanted to see Scully before he left for Connecticut, so he threw his duffel into the back seat of his car and drove to the FBI headquarters. As Mulder approached the office door, he found it locked. Where was she? She must still be in her report meeting. As he started to unlock the door, a familiar voice called out to him.

“Mulder, glad I caught you,” Skinner said.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked.

“Word travels fast,” Skinner replied. “Look, I need to talk to you about something. It’s important. Scully’s on her way down here now, so we can talk later. Stop by my office before you leave the building.”

“Okay…,” he said, wondering what this must be about. Did the report cause a problem?

Skinner got onto the elevator as Scully got off. Skinner said nothing as the doors closed, and then she turned an arched eyebrow on Mulder. “What was that about? What did Skinner want?” she asked.

“He wants to talk to me before I leave,” Mulder hastily replied. The sight of her pushed his ponderings about this upcoming chat with Skinner out of his mind. “Scully! Why didn’t you come by earlier for breakfast?”

“Sorry, Mulder. I didn’t really have time. My meeting this morning had been set for a prompt 8:00 am,” Scully said as Mulder held the office door open for her to walk through.

She walked inside, and turned to face him. The sight of Scully casually leaning against the desk and smiling at him, with both hands grasping the edge and ankles crossed in front of her suddenly caused Mulder’s mind to go blank. He felt an overwhelming urge to rush over, take her in his arms, and have his way with her right there on the desk. He just stood there, stunned. She eyed him and smirked.

“Mulder? Did you really come all the way down here just to ask me why I didn’t stop by for breakfast?” Scully asked. “You could’ve just picked up the phone.”

He blinked. “Oh, yeah. I know. I just wanted to see you before I left for the weekend.”

“Ahh. Well, I’m glad you came by. I wanted to see you too,” she replied. “It’s too bad you’re not coming to the family BBQ. My mom really wanted you to be there.”

“Yeah, and she’s the only Scully family member who does,” he retorted, thinking of Bill Jr’s stony glares.

“That’s not true,” she said simply, gazing at Mulder.

He noticed a blush creeping up Scully’s neck and into her cheeks. Then she broke eye contact and stared at her shoes. The urge to rush over to her returned before he quickly pushed it away. But he found himself staring at her knees that were just peeking out below her form-fitting navy blue skirt. “It’s not?”

“No. Charlie is coming down from Baltimore with his family,” she replied, looking up. “He was looking forward to finally meeting you.”

“I bet he was,” he said dryly, meeting her eyes. “I’m sure Bill Jr has told him everything he needs to know.”

“Actually, Charlie usually tends to see my side of things,” she smirked. “My mom and I would love to have you there too, of course.” Scully casually shrugged.

“I know. Well, maybe I’ll stop by if I leave early enough on Sunday,” he replied, shifting his feet.

She gave him a small smile. A distinct silence filled the basement office. Mulder had a fleeting notion of going over to Scully and kissing her goodbye. He wanted to. Badly. The feeling was overwhelming. But then his fight-or-flight response kicked into gear.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you when I see you,” Mulder said, before turning and walking out of the office.

*****

Scully stood there wondering what that was about. She felt like Mulder had been about to say something of importance, that he had come down to the office for a real reason. He certainly seemed nervous. She felt like he had been on the verge of saying something significant all week…

The long evenings spent cooped up in her apartment going through her rubbings, related X-files, pouring over books. There were moments where their bodies were only mere inches from each other as they sat on her floor, reading and discussing. Then their hands would touch or Mulder would tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear or place a strong hand on her upper back as she buried her face in her hands out of frustration. This kind of contact wasn’t new or out of the ordinary, but now the feeling was absolutely electric. There were moments when Scully had to get up and pace in the kitchen just to relieve the tension. Then she’d pretend that she went into the kitchen to get a glass of water or a piece of fruit.

But the work also scared her, and the weight of the past few weeks had suddenly come crashing down on her: Nearly losing Mulder because he’d been “too much alive,” and feeling helpless because there was really nothing she could’ve done to fix it. What if this mysterious illness was to return? What could be done in that event? She had no idea. Religious writings and human DNA sequences etched into a spacecraft? Everything she’d believed she was now having to question. She was in such a state of mental and emotional exhaustion that she had never experienced before. Scully had the feeling that Mulder sensed this, as there was so much care and concern in the way he interacted with her as they worked together on her apartment floor.

…Thankfully, Mulder was alive and well. And there to crack jokes, to make her smile through the confusion. She felt like their partnership was taking huge strides where there had once been small steps. There was a new closeness of a different kind. She would often feel sad at the end of the evening, when the clock would strike 10:00 and Mulder would reach for his car keys to return home. Scully often wished that he could just stay. He would be coming around the following evening like clockwork, anyways. Why bother leaving? Then she would even start to question this thought process. What did she even want from Mulder? Really and truly? And was it even possible? It wasn’t long before Scully would snap herself back to reality, though. But burying these questions and her feelings was becoming harder and harder. She wondered if she could keep them buried much longer.

*****

Mulder walked down the FBI hallway towards Skinner’s office. “Hey Spooky,” said a man on the opposite side of the hallway, who sniggered along with a fellow agent as they walked past. “How’s Agent Scully?” The two agents looked at each other and grinned. He rolled his eyes and opened the door marked Assistant Director Walter Skinner.

He greeted the secretary Kimberly, and she showed him into Skinner’s office. “Thanks for coming by, Agent Mulder,” he said and motioned for him to take one of the chairs in front of his desk. “I’m afraid I don’t have very good news.”

Mulder stared. “What’s happened, sir?”

“The FBI has decided to suspend the investigation into Agent Fowley’s murder,” Skinner replied. “There are absolutely no leads. No weapon to be found, no prints. The investigation’s at a stand-still. There’s really nothing else we can do unless we get some new information.”

Mulder swallowed and looked at his hands. “Who gave the order to suspend the investigation?”

“It came down from the Deputy Director’s office,” Skinner replied.

“Okay. Is that all, sir?”

Skinner looked intently at him. He seemed to be making a decision. “No. You know your friend Danny was running the investigation. He stopped by my office late yesterday afternoon to give me something for you.”

Skinner got up and walked over to one of the cabinets against the wall. He pulled out a square metal box that looked similar to a safety deposit box, and walked back over to his desk.

“This was found on the top shelf in the bedroom closet in Agent Fowley’s apartment,” he said as he set the box down in front of Mulder. “It had a note attached to it with instructions to give the box to you.”

Mulder stared at it. “What’s in it?”

“I don’t know,” Skinner replied. “I didn’t open it. Neither did Danny.”

“Why did it take so long to get it to me? Diana was killed three weeks ago,” he enquired, with a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“Danny purposely kept it out of the investigation, kept it out of evidence. He removed the box himself and it stayed in the trunk of his car until yesterday afternoon.”

“Why would he do that?” Mulder asked.

“Because he wasn’t sure what was in it, and didn’t feel comfortable making the contents public,” Skinner replied. “For your sake, probably.”

Mulder nodded. He grabbed the box and headed out of the office. As he held onto the box in the elevator ride down to the parking garage and then placed it in his back seat, a million thoughts were running through his mind. What could possibly be in that box? Did he even want to know? Would it provide some answers? Or cause unnecessary pain? Both? So much had happened in the past two months. The four-hour drive to Greenwich, Connecticut would allow him to have some time to himself just to think everything over. Time much needed.


	4. “Mulder, ask yourself why there is no information whatsoever on Special Agent Diana Fowley."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder drives to his mother's house with a lot on his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Placebo – “Sleeping With Ghosts”
> 
> The sea's evaporating  
> Though it comes as no surprise  
> These clouds we're seeing  
> They're explosions in the sky  
> It seems it's written  
> But we can't read between the line
> 
> Hush, it's okay  
> Dry your eye  
> Dry your eye  
> Soulmate, dry your eye  
> Dry your eye  
> Soulmate, dry your eye  
> 'Cause soulmates never die
> 
> This one world vision  
> Turns us in to compromise  
> What good's religion  
> When it's each other we despise  
> Damn the government  
> Damn their killing  
> Damn their lies
> 
> Hush, it's okay  
> Dry your eyes  
> Dry your eyes  
> Soulmate, dry your eyes  
> Dry your eyes  
> Soulmate, dry your eyes  
> 'Cause soulmates never die
> 
> Soulmates never die  
> Never die  
> Soulmates never die  
> Never die  
> Soulmates never die

Mulder had been driving for just over two hours when he pulled off the turnpike and stopped for lunch in Bellmawr, NJ. He found a pizzeria with outdoor patio seating, and satisfied his hunger with two slices and a Coke. It was a beautiful day outside. Perfect, sunny weather. He wished Scully had been sitting there at the table with him. The thought of Scully in casual clothes, wearing sunglasses, and doing nothing but simply enjoying the sunshine made Mulder wish that he’d spent more time with her outside of work over the years. Maybe he could get Scully to take a vacation soon. Maybe he could get her to take it before his medical leave was over. Maybe they could take a weekend and go somewhere together. Suddenly hazy thoughts of Scully lying on a beach somewhere took his mind to places that made him feel flushed. These thoughts were becoming much harder to control lately.

The waitress interrupted Mulder’s daydreaming to bring him the check. After he paid the bill, his mind was once again back on the metal lock box in the back seat of his car. He decided to try to open it. He couldn’t wait until he got to his mother’s house. The box had a padlock with a 4-digit combination key. Mulder tried a few different number combinations, but the lock wouldn’t budge. Then Mulder entered in his own birthdate: 1013. It worked. All Mulder found inside was a piece of lined paper, folded in half.

“Fox,

If you are in receipt of this lock box, most likely I am dead. You may have already learned of the information inside, or at least suspected that this information existed. I know that Agent Scully certainly suspects a lot about me, but I don’t know whether she’s shared those suspicions with you. Everything I know about Agent Scully tells me she is remarkable. Why else would they have been so afraid of her, or at least what she’s capable of. Why else would they have given me the charge of causing division between the two of you. They knew you are far more dangerous with her working with you. But you proved to them that not even sending Agent Scully to the bottom of the world could stop you, and so they decided on a much more subtle tactic.

I hope you know that I believed I was always acting in your best interests. Or at least what I had thought they were. Of course, this all means that my loyalties were not just to you. And you may now suspect just how far back my duplicity goes. But please know that not everything between us was false. My feelings were very real, even if my actions were based in deception. I hope you will benefit from the information I am giving you and that it will shed some light on a great many things. I’m so very sorry.

Love,

Diana”

Mulder didn’t know what to think. He supposed this letter wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. He certainly had questioned Diana’s intentions ever since that night the Consortium and their families had burned up at El Rico Air Force Base. He finally learned some answers when Diana was around him in the hospital and he could read her thoughts. He knew the truth, and had been trying to forget it ever since. Scully was right. Diana had played him for a fool.

But what was this “information” Mulder was supposed to receive? The box was empty except for this note. Typical. _You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!_ In frustration, Mulder slammed the open box down and it fell to the back seat floor. A false bottom immediately popped out. Mulder reached down and picked up a silver compact disc in a plastic case. It had no markings. Mulder then got back in the driver’s seat and placed the disc inside his duffel bag on the passenger seat.

Mulder was deep in thought as he got back on the New Jersey Turnpike heading north to Connecticut. “ _And you may now suspect just how far back my duplicity goes.”_ How far back did it go? This was a question Mulder had been avoiding for months. He knew he couldn’t avoid it any longer…

In September 1986, he was in the thick of it with New Agent training at Quantico. Because he was training as an intelligence analyst with a view to joining the Behavioral Science Unit, he was up to his eyeballs with research and homework. Sometimes the library at Quantico could be stifling, what with his brand new nickname “Spooky” now being floated around. The Melvin Gelman Library was near downtown D.C. and there he commandeered the same table in a quiet corner almost every evening, remaining until closing time at midnight.

One evening, as he approached his usual table at the library, he found it occupied. A woman was sitting there, with books and notes scattered all over the table. He stopped and stared. That was his table. Every night. And he didn’t think he’d ever seen this woman before. She was pretty, with long dark brown hair, and he could tell she was tall. His perfect type. He definitely would’ve remembered seeing her before. He thought about saying hello but then he remembered all the work he had to do, so he started to seek out another table when something caught his eye. The books this woman had spread out all over his table were all on the subject of parapsychology, including books on ESP, telepathy, psychokinesis, and the ganzfeld experiment. He decided to approach her.

“You’re sitting at my table,” he said.

“I wasn’t aware there was assigned seating,” she retorted. “My name’s Diana. I’m here working on my Masters in psychology, and this table is prime real estate around here. Who are _you_ and why are _you_ here?” She was now grinning at him.

“Fox Mulder. But you can just call me Mulder. I’m training to be an intelligence analyst with the FBI.”

“Okay, _Fox_ ,” she smirked. “I don’t see why we can’t share the table. There’s room for the both of us.”

For the next few weeks, there was enough room at the table for Mulder and Diana nearly every night. They mostly discussed paranormal phenomena, and soon he told her his theories about his sister’s abduction from his family home. She was the first person to whom Mulder had really opened up about Samantha, and who didn’t laugh at him or tell him he was crazy. In October, he graduated from the training academy and joined the Behavioral Science Unit. Not long after that, there also seemed to be enough room in his apartment for the both of them.

Over the next few years, Mulder’s profile within the FBI grew higher. But even as he found success with the BSU and then even more acclaim after transferring to the Violent Crimes Unit in 1988, his attempts to find answers about what had happened to his sister proved fruitless. Diana convinced him to undergo regression hypnosis to get a clearer picture of his memories from that night in 1973. The results made him even more determined to search for the truth, but he was at a real loss as how to move forward.

In the spring of 1991, Diana attended the FBI training academy and became a Special Agent. About a week after beginning work for the Bureau, she came to Mulder to tell him that she had found something of interest locked in an office at FBI headquarters. Diana then led him down to the basement and showed him the file cabinets filled with X-files. He had heard of their existence, but had never learned where these files actually were stored.

Mulder soon became obsessed with the X-files, reading and re-reading every case until the wee hours of the morning. He wanted to transfer out of the Violent Crimes Unit to the X-files as an official assignment that he could work on exclusively. Diana, and everyone else at the FBI, thought he was committing career suicide. Diana encouraged him not to get too sucked into the X-files, to keep it as something he could do on the side as a passion project. She had been incredibly excited to show him where the X-files were kept and was now backtracking, as if she was trying to reign him in. But Mulder was adamant that the answers to every question he’d ever asked were in those files. Surprisingly, the FBI allowed him to transfer out of the VCU and into the basement without so much as an objection.

Late in the autumn of 1991, Diana came home to their fourth floor apartment in Alexandria, Virginia to tell Mulder that she’d been offered a foreign counter-terrorism assignment and that she was going to take it. He was shocked. First of all, he couldn’t think why Diana would have any interest in counter-terrorism. It wasn’t exactly her field of expertise. Second of all, ever since he’d transferred to the basement Diana had been on this kick about getting married, moving to a nice area like Fairfax, and having babies. At the moment he found his life’s work, Diana suddenly wanted to settle down and move to suburbia. He was forced to constantly deflect this conversation.

The very next day after Diana informed him she’d be taking the assignment in Europe, Mulder came home from work to find that she had packed up her things and moved out. Five years together, and that was how she left. Diana never called and never wrote, and he never enquired after her. He stopped sleeping in the bedroom; too many memories. Eventually he even sold the bed. The couch was good enough for him.

…How long had Diana been working for _them?_ Since she joined the FBI? Since before they’d even met? Did their relationship exist for the sole purpose of keeping tabs on him? These thoughts carried Mulder through the rest of his drive to Greenwich. He arrived at his mother’s house around 3:00 pm, and she was happily surprised to see him. He felt somewhat happy to see her, but that disc was weighing on his mind and all he could think about was finding out what was on it. He spent the afternoon doing some much needed chores around the house. In just a few short hours, the lawn was mowed, the garden weeded, the bushes trimmed, and the gutters cleaned out.

Later in the evening while eating dinner together, Mulder was once again reminded that he and his mother had little to say to one another. It was difficult to talk about past memories and it was difficult to talk about his present work. All the things he wanted to say to her would only cause her distress and make things uncomfortable. It had been heartbreaking to find out that after spending years asking questions and searching for the truth, his parents had the answers all along and had just refused to tell him.

After dinner, while they sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee, Teena Mulder asked her son how he was enjoying his summer off from work and if he had made any plans as how he was going to spend it. He’d been thinking about taking a vacation, but hadn’t decided. She also asked him how long he planned on staying, but he wasn’t exactly sure. Then she asked after Scully.

“You know, Fox,” his mother said. “I’ve always liked her.”

“I’ve always liked her too, Mom,” he replied, smiling.

Teena Mulder eyed her son with a questioning gaze. He felt his face burning, and so he excused himself, saying he had some things he wanted to work on in the office. He went into his old bedroom, grabbed the disc out of his bag, and went back downstairs to the home office. After turning on the desktop computer, he inserted the disc into the CD-ROM drive. A window opened but the file was encrypted. There was no way he’d be able to get past the encryption with the software on his mother’s desktop. “Shit,” Mulder said to himself and let out a deep sigh. He needed to find out what was on this disc. He decided to drive back down to D.C. the following morning.

*****

It was just past midnight when a loud ringing sound pierced the quiet air in the master bedroom of a nice Georgetown apartment. Scully, half-awake, slowly reached under her pillow and pulled out her cell phone.

“Hi Mulder,” she answered hazily.

“Did I wake you up, Scully?” he asked.

“Of course you did. It’s the middle of the night.”

He smiled into the phone as he laid in his old bed. “How was work today?”

“Boring. How was your drive to Connecticut?”

He swallowed. He hadn’t told Scully about the box Diana had left him. “It was nice. Beautiful weather. Traffic got crazy when passing through New York, but that’s normal. What did you do after work?”

“Nothing much, really. Ate dinner in front of the TV and watched a movie. Kind of a dull evening compared to how I’d been spending my evenings lately.” She paused. “It was awful quiet without you here.”

That hopeful, nervous feeling was flooding his stomach again. He felt incredibly warm all of a sudden. “I missed you too, Scully.”

“When will you be back?”

“Well, now I don’t really know. Perhaps sooner than you think,” he teased.

“Hmm, Charlie and his family will be here sometime on Saturday afternoon,” she said. “Maybe we could all get together for drinks or something tomorrow night.”

“Will Bill Jr be coming along?” he asked.

She scoffed. He could picture her rolling her eyes. “Well, if you’re going to be joining us, then we don’t have to invite Bill.”

“Okay, I’ll come.”

She smiled. “Good.”

“Scully?”

“Yes, Mulder?”

“My mom really likes you.”

“Aww,” she laughed.

“Goodnight, Scully.”

“Goodnight, Mulder.”


	5. "Holman! I do not *gaze* at Agent Scully."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fourth of July weekend continues and Mulder finally gets to meet Charlie Scully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulsavers – “Presence of God”
> 
> I can feel the presence of God  
> Occupying my intentions  
> In my soul, within my thoughts  
> And in ways too dreary to mention
> 
> These thoughts torment me  
> They mold and shape me  
> There’s a man that I should be  
> Or someone I could be  
> Nothing can break me, nothing that I see  
> You can’t shake me, you can’t take me  
> So set me free
> 
> I can feel the presence of God  
> In need of my attention  
> In this room and in your words  
> In too many ways to mention
> 
> These thoughts torment me  
> They mold and shape me  
> There’s a man that I should be  
> Or someone I could be  
> Nothing can break me, nothing that I see  
> You can’t shake me, you can’t take me  
> So set me free
> 
> I can feel the presence of love  
> Holding my attention
> 
> She torments me  
> Creates and shapes me  
> There’s a man that I should be  
> Or someone I could be  
> Nothing can break me, nothing that I see  
> You can’t shake me, you can’t take me  
> So set me free

On Saturday morning, after having breakfast with his mother, Mulder packed up his bag and started his drive back to D.C. He was in such a hurry to get home that he didn’t make one stop, and he was in Alexandria walking through his apartment door by 1:30 pm.

After tossing his bag in the bedroom, he sat down at his computer and popped the disc into his CD-ROM. Once again, an encrypted file window came up on the screen. Mulder gave up after working for almost an hour with no luck and sighed in frustration. He decided he was probably going to have to get some professional help with this one.

*****

Early on Saturday morning, Scully drove to Alexandria, Virginia to help her mother get the house ready for the arrival of Bill and Charlie and their families. Bill and Tara were going to stay in the guest room with Matthew, while Charlie and Jennifer would be staying in Scully’s old bedroom. Their kids would be put up in Charlie’s old room, as it hadn’t changed much over the years and so it was a perfect fit for his two boys.

Scully had always loved this house. After 30 years in the Navy her father retired, and so it was the first house they’d ever lived in that wasn’t on a naval base. Scully, along with her parents and Charlie, had moved to Alexandria in the summer of 1982, after she had graduated from high school in San Diego. Scully had decided to attend the University of Maryland that fall, and always suspected that one of the major reasons her father had chosen to move the family back east was because he’d wanted to keep his little girl at home for as long as possible. Melissa had remained behind in California as she was attending Scripps College in Claremont. Bill Jr had been serving in the Navy for a few years by then and was stationed in Pensacola, where he would eventually meet Tara.

Scully was sitting on her old bed lost in thought when, just after the clock struck one o’clock, a honking car horn could be heard from the driveway. “Bill’s here!” Mrs. Scully called out and quickly made for the front door. Scully made her way downstairs and once out the front door, saw a visibly pregnant Tara getting out of the car. “Surprise!” Tara called out, laughing and rubbing her belly. As Bill was unloading their luggage out of the trunk of the rental car and Mrs. Scully was busy hugging Tara, Scully opened the back door and got 18-month old Matthew out of his car seat. He had only been a few days old the last time she saw him. He was very cute. Mrs. Scully came over and took Matthew from Scully, declaring “I want to see my grandson!” She carried him into the house.

Tara rushed over to Scully and gave her a big hug. “Oh Dana, I’ve missed you,” Tara said sweetly. “My due date is October 31st. And guess what? We’re having twins!”

“You’re kidding,” Scully replied, touching Tara’s belly.

“Of course I’m not kidding. We wanted to try right away for another baby. You know it took us so long to get Matthew, and we didn’t want him to be an only child. My doctor suggested in vitro and BAM! Twins! Can you believe it? Bill thinks the due date is perfect because when we found out it was twins it scared him to death.” Tara laughed.

“Yeah, I bet it did,” Scully smiled. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, honey,” Tara replied. “So how are you? How’s that exciting job of yours?” Tara then leaned in closer and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “How’s that cute partner of yours?"

Scully felt her face turning red and was saved from answering this question by the appearance of Bill at their side. “Hi Dana.”

She hugged her big brother. “Hi Bill. How is your vacation going so far?"

“Great,” Bill replied. “We got to see Tara’s family and some friends in Pensacola. It was nice.”

“When do you go back to San Diego?” Scully asked.

“Monday morning. Taking the first flight out of Dulles. Have you heard from Charlie?”

“Yeah, he called about half an hour ago to say they were leaving the house,” Scully replied. “It only takes him about an hour to drive down here.”

Mrs. Scully then called them all into the house.

*****

It was now late afternoon and Mulder was in downtown D.C., sitting in the Lone Gunmen’s office. He thought if anyone could crack the encryption on that disc, they certainly could.

“Okay, Mulder. We’re through,” said Frohike. “But it looks like we’re gonna need a password.”

“A password?” Mulder asked.

“The disc has two layers of security,” Byers replied.

Langly explained further. “Once the file is decrypted, you have to enter a password to unlock the contents.”

Mulder spent about the next 30 minutes thinking of various possible passwords, but to no avail. “How long would it take to break through without the password?”

“It’s hard to say, “ said Frohike.

“Could only take an hour, could take five,” Langly added. “It depends on the security program Diana used and how complex her password is.”

“Well that’s just great, guys,” Mulder said, tensing up. His cell phone then started to ring.

“Mulder.”

“Hi, Mulder. It’s me.”

Mulder smiled and relaxed his posture. “Hey Scully. What’re you up to?”

“I’m at my mother’s house. Were you still planning on getting back today?” Scully asked.

“I’m already back in D.C. Got back a few hours ago.”

“Are you at home?”

Mulder looked at The Lone Gunmen. “Uh… no, I’m not home right now. I had to go out for a couple errands.”

The Gunmen all arched their eyebrows in Mulder’s direction, and Mulder worked hard to avoid their gaze.

“Oh, okay. Did you still want to come out with us for drinks tonight? You’ll like Charlie. And Bill will not be there. I promise.”

Mulder grinned. He really wanted to see Scully. “Yeah. Drinks sound good. Where should I meet you? And what time?”

The Lone Gunmen exchanged looks.

“Charlie likes The Old Toad,” Scully replied. “How about 8:00?"

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.” Mulder hung up the phone and saw the Gunmen eyeing him amusedly. “What?”

“Your face is all red,” Frohike replied. Mulder stared.

“So you got a date with Agent Scully?” Langly asked.

“Her brother is in town for the weekend and he wants us all to get together.”

“I thought he hated you,” said Byers.

“That’s Bill Jr, the older brother. Charlie is the younger brother, and I haven’t met him yet. And _no,_ it’s not a date.”

“Then why is your face still red?” Frohike asked. Mulder blinked.

“Well boys, thanks for your help. Call me when you crack that password.” Mulder stood up and walked out the door.

The Lone Gunmen exchanged more looks, and smirked.

*****

The Old Toad was a British-style pub on 19th Street in the Downtown neighborhood of D.C. It was a popular nightspot known for its specialized ever-changing beer menu, dance floor, Pub Trivia nights, karaoke, and dim lighting. The place was even busier on the holiday weekend. Mulder was glad he’d taken a taxi because it would’ve been near impossible to find a parking spot anywhere close by. As Mulder walked through the door, he found the place jam packed and a band setting up their equipment in the back. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone out to hear live music.

The sight of Mulder coming through the door in dark jeans, gray T-shirt, and a black leather jacket filled Scully with excitement. “Mulder, over here!”

He saw Scully standing near the bar waving and started to make his way over. “The bar’s way too crowded. We’re just waiting for a table,” Scully called out. “Should only be a few more minutes.”

Mulder squeezed through groups of people, continuously having to say “Excuse me” until he reached her. She greeted him with a smile. A warm glow filled his chest. It was so good to see her.

“Hey,” Mulder said as he started to bend towards her face, and then he jerked himself upright. Did he seriously just bend down to kiss her? _Get ahold of yourself._

Scully gave him a queer look, and then chuckled. “Mulder, this is my brother Charlie and his wife Jennifer.”

Standing behind Scully was a tall, slender man who had his arm around the shoulders of a pretty woman with light brown hair. They all shook hands. “Nice to meet you, finally,” said Charlie with a smile. “We’ve heard a lot about you.” Mulder turned and squinted at Scully. She grinned at him and averted her eyes.

A couple attempting to make their way to the bar bumped hard into Mulder and kept going without saying anything. Mulder shook his head. “It’s a mad house in here. Do you think all these people appreciate the irony of crowding a British pub on 4th of July weekend?”

Charlie laughed. Mulder smiled and turned to Scully. “So how’d you get rid of Bill Jr?”

She rolled her eyes. “Bill, Tara, and my mother are taking the kids out for mini golf and ice cream.”

“Table’s ready,” said a waiter with an English accent. “I like this guy,” Charlie said to Scully, nodding in Mulder’s direction. He then grabbed Jennifer’s hand and they followed the waiter, with Scully close behind them, as he led them towards a table in the farthest corner from the bar area. While walking a few feet behind Scully, Mulder noticed three men who were seated closer to the bar turn their heads in her direction as she walked past their table, and heard one of them say “Oh… my… God.” Mulder had a momentary urge to throttle this guy, but he kept on walking. The men were blatantly staring at her ass. Well, she _was_ wearing a great pair of jeans. He now had to force himself not to stare too. Once they were seated at the table, Jennifer ordered tonic water, while Charlie, Mulder, and Scully each ordered a beer off the specialty draft menu.

“Seeing as how you’ve heard so much about me,” Mulder began, eyeing Scully who smirked at him in return. “I think it’s only fair that I hear all about the both of you.”

Charlie laughed. “You make a good point.” He then told Mulder about his career as a basketball coach at a Catholic high school in Baltimore, while Jennifer regaled Mulder with comical stories from her experiences as a kindergarten teacher. Charlie and Scully would also intermittently share amusing stories from their childhood, and even funnier ones from their teen years. Mulder had an idea, reading between the lines, that Charlie and Scully were often partners in crime and frequently up to no good.

The live band had finished setting up, and had begun to play some recognizable classic rock. The band started playing REO Speedwagon, prompting an “awww, I love this song!” exclamation from Jennifer. In no time, Charlie had her out on the dance floor. Mulder was about to ask Scully to dance, but then had second thoughts. He wasn’t sure he could handle holding her that close to him. He might do something stupid.

“What are you thinking about?” Scully asked.

“You.”

Scully swallowed. Butterflies filled her stomach and she could feel her face getting hot. Thank goodness for the dim lighting in there. “What about me?”

Mulder and Scully gazed at one another for some seconds. A hundred thoughts were racing through Mulder’s mind. He wanted to pull her to him and kiss her right there at the table. He wanted to ask her to go home with him. He wanted to put his hands on her.

“Mulder?”

“Um, I think I’ll come to the BBQ tomorrow. I know you want me to. And I wouldn’t want to be rude to your mother just because Bill Jr hates me. It was thoughtful of her to invite me.”

Scully felt disappointed. Mulder always seemed just on the verge of _saying something_. Was Mulder ever going to do anything about… anything? “Oh, yeah I want you to come. It’ll be a nice day for a BBQ.”

When Charlie and Jennifer returned to the table, they shared their story of meeting in the 10th grade and getting married the summer after they graduated high school in 1986. “I’m the youngest in the family, but the first to get married and the first to have kids,” said Charlie. “I always knew I was the black sheep.”

“How old are your kids?” Mulder asked.

“Ben just turned 12 years old and Jack will be 10 in a few months,” Jennifer answered. She and Charlie shared a look. Jennifer then turned to Scully. “We didn’t want to say anything back at the house, so as not to take away any of the attention from Bill and Tara’s twins, but… we’re having another baby.” Charlie had a huge smile on his face and was nodding enthusiastically.

Scully was stunned. Jennifer laughed. “I know! We were shocked too. I thought we were done having kids, but I guess God had different plans. I’m only a few months along right now, so it’s easy to hide. The baby’s not due until January.”

“Well, that’s wonderful!” Scully replied. “I’m very happy for you. I, for one, hope it’s a girl. I know Mom would love to finally have a granddaughter.”

As Mulder watched Scully through this exchange, he suddenly began to feel very sad. It should’ve been Scully having all those babies. She would’ve been an amazing mother. She’d lost out on so much, and it's his fault. The waiter returned with drink refills. The live band struck up another one of Jennifer’s favorite songs, and so Charlie whisked her back to the dance floor.

“Mulder? What are you thinking about? Why are you so quiet?” Scully asked.

A cell phone started to ring loudly. Mulder removed his jacket from the back of his chair and pulled out his phone.

“Mulder, it’s Byers. You need to get over here right away.”


	6. "The truth will save you, Scully. I think it'll save both of us."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter than the previous ones. 
> 
> Mulder finds out what's on that disc with the help of The Lone Gunmen and then spends a Sunday afternoon in Alexandria surrounded by the Scully clan. Scully experiences a family BBQ with Mulder around. Fireworks. Angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Death Cab for Cutie – “I Will Follow You Into the Dark”
> 
> Love of mine, some day you will die  
> But I'll be close behind  
> I'll follow you into the dark  
> No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white  
> Just our hands clasped so tight  
> Waiting for the hint of a spark
> 
> If Heaven and Hell decide  
> That they both are satisfied  
> Illuminate the No's on their vacancy signs  
> If there's no one beside you  
> When your soul embarks  
> Then I'll follow you into the dark
> 
> In Catholic school as vicious as Roman rule  
> I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black  
> And I held my tongue as she told me  
> "Son, fear is the heart of love."  
> So I never went back
> 
> If Heaven and Hell decide  
> That they both are satisfied  
> Illuminate the No's on their vacancy signs  
> If there's no one beside you  
> When your soul embarks  
> Then I'll follow you into the dark
> 
> You and me have seen everything to see  
> From Bangkok to Calgary  
> And the soles of your shoes are all worn down  
> The time for sleep is now  
> It's nothing to cry about  
> 'Cause we'll hold each other soon  
> In the blackest of rooms
> 
> If Heaven and Hell decide  
> That they both are satisfied  
> Illuminate the No's on their vacancy signs  
> If there's no one beside you  
> When your soul embarks  
> Then I'll follow you into the dark

Charlie and Jennifer finished their dance and returned to their table at The Old Toad to find Scully sitting there alone. “Where’s Mulder?” Charlie asked.

“He left.”

“Where’d he go?”

“I don’t know,” Scully sighed. “He didn’t say.”

“Does he do that a lot, sis?” Jennifer asked tentatively.

“You have no idea,” she scoffed in reply.

Jennifer gave Charlie a sad look. “Do you want to go home?” Charlie asked while checking his watch. “It’s just past 10:00, anyways. We should probably get back to mom’s place and make sure our boys haven’t run her ragged.”

Scully sat silently in the backseat as they drove towards her apartment in Georgetown. Charlie would occasionally throw concerned glances in the rear view mirror, but Scully would only shut her eyes and shake her head as a reply.

*****

When Mulder entered the Lone Gunmen’s office he was greeted by three very somber faces. Mulder grabbed a chair and Byers stepped forward to hand him the disc. Langly sighed and crossed his arms. Frohike shook his head. Byers gave Mulder a concerned, sympathetic look. As Mulder sat down, he thought the scene took on the air of someone about to find out he has terminal cancer.

“Sorry to interrupt your night out with the illustrious Agent Scully,” Byers began. “We’ve removed the security on the disc, so you should be able to go through it and read it yourself on your home computer.” What was with Byers’ tone? He sounded almost… sad. Mulder started to feel a little worried. What if he’d gotten his hopes up for nothing?

“What’s wrong? The disc wasn’t blank, was it?” Mulder asked.

“Far from it, “ Langly replied, with a marked edge to his voice. Frohike and Byers looked at him.

“Good grief, fellas. Who died?” Mulder quipped, slightly annoyed.

“Only a lot of innocent women!” Frohike exclaimed, slapping his hand hard on the table.

Mulder shot the three of them a surprised look. “What’s on the disc?” he asked slowly.

“If you recall, back in February,” began Byers. “Agent Scully came to us to try and find information on what Diana Fowley had been doing in the years she was working abroad.”

“Oh, I do recall,” Mulder said darkly, remembering that stupid fight with Scully when he foolishly refused to believe Diana’s intentions were anything but admirable and then made the huge mistake of basically telling Scully not to take things personally. He wished he had never said something so hurtful. He wanted to erase that night from his memory.

“Then you’ll remember that we found out Diana had been monitoring MUFON groups across Europe,” Langly said.

“And making weekly trips to Tunisia,” added Frohike.

Mulder nodded.

“The disc contains the data she’d been collecting on the MUFON groups,” Byers continued. “The disc is essentially Diana’s personal log with notes on all the MUFON women, specifically their health. Each woman was assigned an identification number along with the date the chip was removed from the back of her neck. The number is very similar to serial numbers embedded into Pentium microprocessors, so we can assume that each woman’s ID number corresponds with her chip.”

“Then Diana would monitor how much time it took for each woman to develop cancer,” added Frohike. “And the types of brain cancer they were diagnosed with, then how long each woman survived after receiving a diagnosis.”

“Okay,” Mulder sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes and then crossing his arms. He had guessed he’d find information like this.

“She made weekly reports on each woman,” Langly said. “She’d sign and date the bottom of each report, and also on each one under her signature is the name Strughold that is dated approximately two days later.”

Mulder knew that name. “Conrad Strughold was a German industrialist and a Nazi. After WW II ended, he fled Germany to escape trial and is supposedly living out his exile in Tunisia.”

His companions nodded in agreement. Mulder then started to recall the abandoned Strughold Mining Facility in West Virginia where he and Scully had found those medical files containing smallpox vaccination records and tissue samples.

“Well, thanks for finding this all out for me, boys.”

The Lone Gunmen exchanged dark looks. “There’s more,” Frohike replied.

Mulder looked at Byers. “What else did you find?”

“Diana also wrote reports on the infertility of each female member belonging to the European MUFON chapters,” Byers responded. “It appears as though she started a side project which Strughold did not sign off on, at least officially as his name does on not appear on any of the reports. They are signed and dated by Diana, then signed and dated a week later by a C.G.B.S.”

“C.G.B. Spender,” said Mulder. “Cancer Man.” Of course. Did he expect anything different?

“They were also experimenting on the women,” Langly said.

“What kind of experiments?” Mulder asked resignedly. He didn’t like where this was headed.

“Diana conducted a clinical trial with 30 MUFON women,” Frohike said. “The women chosen were all married, and during the trial they all became pregnant.”

“What? I don’t understand. They’re all barren. How is that possible?” Mulder asked. “What was the trial?”

“The trial seemed to correspond to the other various experiments done with alien DNA and the alien virus, particularly the experiments that produced Emily Sim,” Byers replied.

Mulder stared. Now Mulder _really_ didn’t like where this was headed. “How did those women become pregnant?”

“By their husbands, so it seems,” Langly answered.

“From what we gathered from Diana’s log, those 30 MUFON women agreed to have the chips placed back in their necks,” Byers continued. “Then Diana notes that C.G.B. Spender received a list of the 30 identification numbers. Within four weeks, all 30 women were pregnant. That’s all that’s stated regarding the method of conception. So we’re assuming the pregnancies came about naturally.”

“What happened with the babies?” Mulder asked.

“They were never born,” Frohike replied.

“The women all miscarried in the 7th or 8th week of pregnancy,” Langly clarified. “A window of two months would go by, then Diana would start the trial anew with the same 30 women. She’d send the ID number list to the Smoking Man, and within three or four weeks they were pregnant again. And like clockwork, they all miscarried in the 7th or 8th week.”

“Diana’s notes state that the chip provides perfect health for the woman,” said Byers. “So no defect could be passed on to the embryo from the mother. The chip apparently activates ovulation. Diana mentions that the new ova are different from the ova harvested from a woman during her initial abduction, because of the woman’s now-branched DNA.”

“It seems as though Diana was struggling to find a cause for the miscarriages,” Langly added.

“The stem cells of the fetuses showed signs of the alien virus, the same kind of DNA that turned up in that Gibson Praise kid not too long ago,” Frohike said.

Mulder’s brain had gone fuzzy. He could see the dots and was hurriedly trying to connect them.

“Diana believed that if these women could ever bring a child to full term…” Byers began.

“They’d create the perfect child,” Mulder finished. “An alien-human hybrid in the truest sense of the term. One that was human and naturally immune to the virus.”

“Yeah,” Langly concurred. “And the possibility of possessing amazing capabilities.”

“But there was a problem,” said Frohike.

“The miscarriages,” Mulder concluded.

“In Diana’s final journal entries on the clinical trial, dated March of last year,” Byers continued. “She came to the conclusion that the miscarriages are most likely caused by the imperfect DNA passed on by the father that is incompatible with the mother’s branched DNA. The father’s DNA contains no immunities to the alien virus. The fact that the miscarriages always occurred around the 8th week led her to make this hypothesis, as it is during this period of the pregnancy that a gene will trigger the sex of the child.”

“What happened with these women?” Mulder asked.

“Well, it appears that the fertility activated by the chip was only temporary,” Langly answered.

“Based on Diana’s notes,” Byers added. “The Smoking Man ordered all evidence of the trial destroyed.”

“Including the women,” Frohike said angrily.

“They were killed?!” Mulder felt disgusted. How could Diana have gotten herself involved in something like this? He couldn't believe that he'd ever momentarily decided to side with her and the Smoking Man. He felt sick to himself that he'd accuse Scully of 'taking this personal' when she only tried to make him see the truth.

“Eventually,” said Byers. “He had Diana remove the chips from their necks. Those 30 women are either all dead from cancer by now, or on the verge of death.”

*****

Once Scully was home, she picked up the phone and called Mulder’s cell. It was shut off. She then called his apartment and only got the answering machine. Did something happen? She hoped Mulder would call her if he was in any trouble and she also hoped he’d call her even if he wasn’t, just to tell her he was okay. But she also knew that chances were likely he’d keep her in the dark, at least for a while.

Mulder’s ability to set up a barrier around himself was not new to Scully. For as open as he usually is with her, he could also be closed up tighter than a drum. _Pot calling the kettle black, Dana._ She knew she had closed herself off to Mulder more times than she could count. But there was a time, during her illness and very soon after her recovery, when she had been open to the possibility of their partnership becoming something more. She thought she might’ve even hinted at it once or twice, but nothing happened. Mulder had closed himself off. Then, as Mulder started to open up and express to her how much he needed her in his life, Diana Fowley emerged and Scully promptly erected as many walls as she could.

Then Mulder was sick and dying. Scully was travelling to the other side of the world to find a cure to save him. She almost lost Mulder. And if Diana Fowley hadn’t intervened, she most certainly would have lost him. Scully hated feeling indebted to that woman. But Mulder had been saved, and as they stood in Mulder’s open doorway a few weeks ago, Scully felt that for the first time in six years they were both finally open to each other. There were moments over the past couple weeks when she was sure that Mulder had been about to kiss her or hold her or tell her something she desperately needed to hear. Sometimes she wanted to touch Mulder so badly that it hurt. There were moments when it took every fiber of willpower she possessed to not cross that line they had drawn in the imaginary sand all those years ago.

So she just kept waiting for Mulder to say or do something. But now Scully could feel the knot of fear starting to return. She knew, deep down, that Mulder loved her. She may have tried to deny it, or ignore it, but she knew. What she didn’t know was whether Mulder would ever act on it before one of them closed themself off again, whether they could ever get out of their own way and finally move forward.

*****

Sunday, July 4th was a beautiful sunny day in Alexandria, Virginia. Mulder arrived at Mrs. Scully’s around three o’clock in the afternoon. The driveway was full of cars, but he was able to park in front of the house. As he was getting out of the car, a SUV pulled up behind him. A middle-aged couple got out, along with a younger couple and a girl who looked no older than six or seven. The men unloaded a few bags from the back. They all smiled as they approached Mulder.

“Hello there! You here for Maggie’s BBQ?” asked the older man. “Jim Delaney, Jennifer’s dad. This is my wife, Meghan. Our son Jamie, and his wife Ryan. And this is our granddaughter Charlotte.”

Mulder greeted them all and shook hands. The sound of laughter inside the house could be heard out front, so Charlotte broke free from her parents and ran to the front door to seek out her cousins.

“I’m Mulder. I’m a friend of Scully’s.”

“Uh… which one?” Jim laughed.

Mulder gave a small smile and nodded. “Dana.”

They all stared at him. “Are you the guy she works with? The one who believes in aliens?” Meghan asked incredulously.

Mulder blinked. Jamie and Ryan laughed uncomfortably.

“Come on now, honey,” Jim said. “We don’t want to scare the guy off before he’s even set foot in the house.”

“Right… sorry,” Meghan said awkwardly to Mulder.

“That’s okay,” replied Mulder good-naturedly. “Believing in aliens isn’t even the weirdest thing about me.”

The family laughed, no doubt grateful for the tension relief. They then made their way toward the house.

Scully had been walking through the living room when she saw Mulder standing out front with the Delaneys. _Oh, brother._ As much as she wanted Mulder to spend the day with her and her family, she was also nervous about how they’d act around him. She didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable. She certainly didn’t want various family members ganging up on him. She didn’t know what would make him feel worse: Bill’s blatant coldness, or other over-enthusiastic family members camping around Mulder demanding that he explain “those crazy ideas of his.”

The Delaneys knocked on the door as they entered the house. Scully greeted them all with hugs and directed them to join everyone in the back yard. Mulder stared at Scully’s back. She had on a yellow sundress with small red flowers of some kind, and she was barefoot. Mulder’s mind went blank, and then vivid images of Mulder sliding his hand up underneath that dress filled his mind. But his eyes zeroed in on the small scar at the base of her neck, and his thoughts turned grim.

Scully turned a warm smile on Mulder after the Delaneys had made their way out of the living room. “Glad you could make it.”

“What? I don’t get a hug?” Mulder teased.

“Do you want one?” Scully quipped sarcastically.

Before Mulder could think of a reply Scully had crossed the few feet between them, and was sliding her arms around his waist and up his back. “Is that better?” she grinned.

Mulder smiled and wrapped his arms around Scully’s back. But then he noticed Charlie standing at the foot of the stairs watching them. Mulder gave Scully a squeeze and then quickly let go. “Thanks. Now I feel like a real guest. Everyone’s in the back yard, you said?”

“Um.. yeah, everyone should be out there,” Scully replied. She couldn’t begin to explain it, but Scully felt there was something off about Mulder. What was going on with him? Was he shutting her out again?

Charlie greeted Mulder and led the way to the back yard. Scully walked behind them but was waylaid by her mother, Tara, Jennifer, Meghan, and Ryan in the kitchen. They were all surprised that Mulder actually showed up. As a matter of fact, so was Scully.

Scully watched from the kitchen window as Mulder shook hands with Bill Jr, who seemed kind of stiff. But then again, that was how he pretty much carried himself at all times. Charlie then led Mulder over to the cooler and they each grabbed a beer, before heading to sit with Jamie at one of the picnic tables. Jim Delaney was chatting with Bill as they started getting things ready for the grill. The kids were in their swim suits and running through the sprinklers. It all looked so… normal. Scully didn’t know how she felt about that.

Once the ladies had finished gathering things for the picnic tables, they joined their men in the back yard. Jamie and Charlie quickly got up to help spread tablecloths so their wives could set the tables. Scully walked over and sat across from Mulder.

“Scully, can I ask you a personal question?”

“Uh… sure, Mulder.”

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

Scully burst out laughing. She tried to answer, but then she started laughing again. After taking a deep breath, she said “I’m just a girl trying to make her mother happy. She got it for me as a gift. She always made me and Melissa wear sundresses on 4th of July. It’s tradition.”

Mulder smiled and nodded.

“So, what happened to you last night?”

Mulder knew this question was coming. “The Lone Gunmen called me. They said it was important.”

“Oh, okay.” Scully could tell that Mulder wasn’t about to elaborate, so she dropped the subject.

After about an hour of everyone sitting around drinking and chatting, Bill Jr got the grill fired up. The mothers got their kids inside to dry off and change clothes. Soon the families had spread themselves out over three picnic tables and everyone feasted on hamburgers, hot dogs, and BBQ chicken along with other picnic staples Mrs. Scully filled the tables with.

To Scully’s relief, despite several of the ladies insisting on calling him “Fox,” no one badgered Mulder. She wondered if Charlie had something to do with that. If that was so, she was thankful. However, she did note that Bill seated himself as far away from Mulder as he could possibly get without sitting on the ground. Oh, well. Some things will never change. But even though no one was being invasive towards Mulder and (most) everyone treated him kindly, she observed that he got quieter and quieter as the day went on.

*****

It was nearly 8:30 pm and everyone loaded up into as few cars as possible to drive to Oronoco Bay Park to watch the fireworks. Once they reached the park, the Scullys, Delaneys, and Mulder all filed out with lawn chairs and blankets. They found a soft grassy area just far enough away from the crowd of people gathering to be able to talk normally and still be heard by one another.

Mulder walked behind Scully towards that chosen area. Charlie’s youngest boy, nine year old Jack (whom Mulder had learned was the nephew who had been obsessed with the movie _Babe_ a few years ago and would make Scully watch it 10 times a day with him), held her hand the entire way from the parking lot. Mulder sighed.

Spending the day at Mrs. Scully’s house had been a reminder that in many ways Scully’s life was very different from his own. He had been estranged from his parents for most of his adult life. Most of his childhood memories were marred by his sister’s abduction and his parents’ divorce. Scully had grown up a happy kid, with parents who loved each other, surrounded by close siblings.

And as Mulder watched these happy families, he saw just how much had been taken away from Scully. He was surrounded by happy marriages and healthy children. And then there was Scully, alone and barren. Because of him. Her sister was murdered. Because of him. She had gotten cancer, and in order to survive she has to walk around with that _thing_ in her neck doing God knows what to her. All because of him. Scully deserved this care-free, happy life that her family enjoyed. It should be her with the adoring husband and surrounded by children. What could he ever give her? She deserved so much more.

At 9:30 pm, the fireworks started. Scully had seated herself in a lawn chair, and Mulder came over to seat himself on the ground by her feet. He was getting tired. He leaned his shoulder against her left leg and crooked his arm around her calf. Scully absentmindedly started to run her fingers through Mulder’s hair. “Mmm, Scully,” Mulder cooed. “I’m gonna fall asleep if you keep doing that.”

Scully smiled. “So go to sleep, then.” She continued to stroke his forehead and run her fingers against his scalp. Mulder was making sounds that sounded almost like a cat purring. Scully tried not to giggle. Then Mulder felt someone looking at him, and he opened his eyes to catch Bill Jr’s icy stare. A pang of guilt flooded Mulder’s stomach.

“Thanks, Scully,” Mulder said as he pulled his arm back and leaned away from her. “But I really don’t want to fall asleep in the park. Who knows what could happen?” Mulder’s feeble attempt at a joke fell flat. He got up and walked to the other side of the group, leaving Scully staring at her hands in her lap. He sat down in a lawn chair next to Jennifer, behind Bill Jr.

Charlie had watched this whole scene. He approached Bill Jr, whispering “What the hell is wrong with you, Bill?”

“I don’t like that guy.”

“Come on. He’s a good guy.”

“Do you have any idea what he’s put Dana through? What he’s done to this family?”

“Dana makes her own choices, Bill. Mulder never forced her to do anything she wasn’t willing to do."

“I’ll never understand why she couldn’t just be a doctor. She could’ve been a Chief Hospital Administrator by now.”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation again. She _is_  a doctor. She’s a doctor with the FBI. Bill, have you ever stopped to think that Dana wants more excitement in her life than piles of paper work and endless board meetings?”

“Ridiculous,” Bill Jr sniffed.

“Dana believes that what she’s doing is worthwhile. She believes in upholding the law, carrying out justice, and saving lives. There’s nothing wrong with that. You should be more understanding.”

“Yeah, how many lives is she saving by chasing UFOs?” Bill Jr retorted. “Look, if Dana wants to work for the FBI, fine by me. It doesn’t mean I have to accept Mulder.”

“Yes, Bill, that’s exactly what it means. Because she’s in love with him.”

“Charles, don’t be ridiculous. They only work together.”

“You’re a goddamned fool, Bill.”

As Charlie walked away, Jennifer turned her head until she caught Mulder’s eye. Mulder slowly shook his head and then stared at his shoes.


	7. “I’ve often felt that dreams are answers to questions we haven’t yet figured out how to ask.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully dealing with whole lot of angst and poor communication. So... nothing new for these two. 
> 
> The Mature rating is there for a reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depeche Mode – “Damaged People”
> 
> We're damaged people  
> Drawn together  
> By subtleties that we are not aware of  
> Disturbed souls  
> Playing out forever  
> These games that we once thought we would be scared of
> 
> When you're in my arms  
> The world makes sense  
> There is no pretense  
> And you're crying  
> When you're by my side  
> There is no defense  
> I forget to sense  
> I'm dying
> 
> We're damaged people  
> Praying for something  
> That doesn't come from somewhere deep inside us  
> Depraved souls  
> Trusting in the one thing  
> The one thing that this life has not denied us
> 
> When I feel the warmth  
> Of your very soul  
> I forget I'm cold  
> And crying  
> When your lips touch mine  
> And I lose control  
> I forget I'm old  
> And dying

Something had happened. Scully didn’t know what that was, and Mulder didn’t seem inclined to illuminate. But there had been such a marked change in Mulder’s demeanor ever since he’d returned from Connecticut, that it was impossible to deny. She didn’t think it had anything to do with his mother, as he wouldn’t have had a problem talking about that. Could it be something going on with The Lone Gunmen that had him so preoccupied? Mulder had run out of The Old Toad because of an apparent phone call from them about something “important.” But that could be crop circles in Canada for all she knew or suspected of what those guys deemed to be all-important news.

Scully didn’t know what had caused Mulder to abruptly move himself away from her during the fireworks. She had her suspicions, but these only caused her pain and embarrassment. The feel of running her fingers through Mulder’s hair as he leaned against her was soothing beyond belief. Such a simple act that, six months ago, never would have happened so naturally and without second thought.

Their dynamic _was_ finally changing, and she thought for the better. But Mulder seemed to be backtracking, trying to stop them from progressing further. She knew that Mulder loved her, yes, but did he want her? She was afraid to learn the answer, and it only made her feel helpless. Wasn’t Mulder sick of remaining stagnate? She knew that she certainly was. But she was quickly losing hope, believing that Mulder could easily convince himself he was content with loneliness for the rest of his life. Could she really go on like this forever? Scully didn’t know. She maintained a steady gaze out the car window for the duration of the 15 minute drive from Oronoco Bay Park to her mother’s house in the Alexandria Wrest neighborhood. She didn’t want to look over at Mulder and catch his eye. She didn’t want to find rejection and disappointment there.

*****

The fireworks had come to an end, prompting the Scullys, Delaneys, and Mulder to make their way back to the parking lot. After they piled into vehicles, Mulder found himself sitting in the back seat of Charlie and Jennifer’s car with a silent Scully, and a sleeping Jack between them. Was Charlie right about what he said to Bill Jr… she’s in love with him? He knew it must be true. Mulder now recalled that someone else had attempted to bring this to his attention not so long ago, but the thought of his former neighbor Phillip Padgett turned his stomach and he forcefully pushed the memory away. Charlie turned on the car radio, but kept the volume low as he and Jennifer quietly talked together up front. Scully seemed to be resolutely staring out the window. What was she thinking about? _  
_

Mulder had never felt more confused in his life. It seemed as though his body and his mind were in a state of war. Whatever had been the status of his partnership with Scully up until this point, his body was now fighting against it. It wanted more. Where Mulder found contentment with his friendship with Scully, his body knew it could be so much better. Where Mulder found it hard to find the words to express how he felt or what he wanted, his body knew how to make it clear.

But then Mulder’s mind would put up one hell of a defensive effort. It had masterfully laid hidden counterattacks like land mines, so that whenever his body would compel him to move to action, a mental blast would check him and keep him restrained.

That yellow sundress had been driving him crazy all day, not to mention Scully’s bare feet and painted toes. There were moments when Scully had separated herself from the group outside and wandered into the empty kitchen. The impulse to follow her into the house was almost too powerful. He sat there picturing himself going inside and getting her behind a locked door, frantically shoving her dress upwards and burying his hard member in her wet heat.

But then his mind would cruelly remind him of all the terrible things that had happened to Scully of which were directly or indirectly his fault. _Why would you force her to chain herself to you more than she is now,_ his mind would chide him. _Why do a disservice to her professionalism and her reputation by turning her into your sexual play-thing? You already know why everyone thinks she’s stayed in the basement with you all these years. Why make the whispers and smirks in the FBI hallways of fact instead of baseless rumor? You’ve done enough damage to her already._

Mulder sighed. He looked over at Scully. She was still looking out the window. He watched as her profile would momentarily alight with the passing of street lamps or headlights, and then once again become cloaked in darkness. There was so much Mulder wanted to say to her, but didn’t know how to. He had an unexplainable feeling that a door was closing somewhere, an opportunity was being wasted. But he could do nothing but silently brood over the enigma of their partnership; the simultaneous nature of their closeness and distance, their solidarity and discord, which was perfectly embodied by the fact that even though Mulder sat so near to Scully in the back seat of this car, the intermittent darkness was preventing him from seeing her face clearly.

*****

Everyone safely arrived back at Mrs. Scully’s house and began saying their goodbyes. The Delaney clan, after telling Maggie that they’d see her at St. John’s Church the following Sunday for mass and reminding her of the fundraiser they were putting on to help Father McCue raise money for Carpenter’s Shelter, hopped into their SUV to return home.

Charlie and Jennifer were saying their goodbyes to Mulder as Scully was giving hugs to Tara and Bill, and wishing them a safe flight back to San Diego in the morning. After Bill and Tara started to make their way inside the house with a sleeping Matthew, Scully approached Charlie, Jennifer, and Mulder. Mulder watched as Charlie and Jennifer each gave her a tight hug, then the latter whispered “Call me!” into Scully’s ear while darting a quick glance at Mulder, and then walked into the house with her husband.

“Well, goodnight Mulder,” Scully said simply. “I’d say ‘see you in the office tomorrow,’ but you know…”

“I’m on summer vacation,” Mulder quipped. Scully gave him a small smile. “Goodnight, Scully.”

Mulder watched Scully walk with her mother towards her parked car in Mrs. Scully’s driveway.

“Hey Scully! You’re not seriously thinking of driving back to Georgetown tonight, are you?”

“Yeah, why not? I live there.”

“It’s kind of too late to be driving all the way back there, don’t you think? Wouldn’t it be better to stay here tonight?”

“Mulder, it’s less than 20 minutes away. And it’s not even 11:00 yet. I’ll be fine.”

He made no reply. This was one of those times when Scully’s stubborn independence could be downright infuriating.

Maggie Scully gave her daughter a hug and kiss goodbye, then watched her pull out of the driveway and make way for home. She then turned and saw Fox Mulder approaching his driver side door, pulling out his car keys. Maggie was glad she finally had a chance to speak to him without the others around.

“Fox?"

Mulder looked up with surprise. “Yes, Mrs. Scully?”

Maggie walked over to stand on the curb next to Mulder’s car. “I wanted to talk to you about Bill Jr.”

“Oh.”

“I know Bill was rude to you today,” Maggie said. “And I wanted to apologize. He has strong opinions, I know, but he should know better than to treat any guest of mine inhospitably.”

“That’s okay, Mrs. Scully.”

“I hope you know, Fox,” Maggie replied. “That you are always welcome at my house. Dana trusts you and respects you, so how can anyone else who doesn’t know you as well as she say otherwise.”

“I completely understand why Bill Jr hates me, so try not to feel too bad about it.”

“Hate is an awfully strong word,” said Maggie contemplatively. “Bill only has one perspective on the matter: his own. I knew from the moment I met you how much you cared about my daughter. You always refused to give up on her, even when we were prepared to let her go. Whatever Bill may think about what caused the things that have happened to Dana, _you_  are the reason she’s alive today. Hopefully, in time, Bill will come to realize that as well.”

Mulder swallowed; he felt a lump in his throat. He could only nod in reply. After saying goodnight, Mulder got into his car and drove home to his apartment near the river.

*****

_Mulder found himself walking on a beach. He knew this beach. This was the place he’d come to so many times over the past few months. As Mulder walked further, he saw the young boy with light brown hair next to the large UFO made out of sand. He ran to Mulder and grabbed him by the hand. He was upset and crying, saying “help my mother” over and over. Mulder tried to tell him that he doesn’t know who the boy’s mother is. The boy grabbed Mulder’s hand again, and then led him away from the beach and into the nearby woods._

_Mulder didn’t recognize this part of the dream. As he walked through the woods, he felt a gentle breeze and occasional warmth when passing through patches of sunshine that had found their way through the trees. Mulder felt completely at peace. The boy continued holding on to his hand, guiding him, until Mulder saw a flash of yellow behind some trees and heard familiar laughter. It was Scully. He knew it was her. She’d never been here before. How did she get here? He could feel her close, but he couldn’t see her. The boy had disappeared. Where did he go? He heard the laughter again, louder. He quickly turned around, and there was Scully._

_She looked different, somehow. Her hair was slightly longer and her eyes were a different shade of blue. They were piercingly bright, and twinkling with happiness. She was wearing that pale yellow sundress with the small red flowers that stopped just above her knees. Mulder tried to speak, but he couldn’t make a sound. He had so many things he needed to tell her. He kept trying, but his words were lost on the air. Scully smiled at him. A sudden sense of urgency overwhelmed him. If he couldn’t tell her, he’d have to show her.  
_

_In an instant, Mulder had grabbed Scully and lifted her up, holding her tight to his chest. Her arms were around his neck, and her eyes sparkled. She didn’t speak, but she was telling him she loved him. He heard the words from somewhere: inside himself? Her mind? He didn’t know. And he still couldn’t speak. In another instant his mouth was on hers. She didn’t resist, but seemed to match his fiery sense of urgency. Scully was what he wanted and needed. She was so soft and tasted so sweet.  
_

_Mulder laid Scully down on the grass, pressing his body tightly against hers. She arched her back, but it wasn’t enough. They weren’t close enough. Suddenly his clothes were gone, but he didn’t remember removing them. He pressed into her again, wanting to be closer until they were like that fused dime and penny in his desk._

_Amazingly, Scully wanted more, wanted him. Mulder hurriedly pushed the edge of the sundress up to her hips. He knew that Scully wanted to feel him inside her. She parted her legs and he settled between them. In a matter of seconds, Mulder had completely filled her. It was the most incredible sensation he’d ever known: warm and wet and tight. He began to move quickly with a sense of urgency he had never experienced before. He was afraid this would end. He never wanted it to end. He was pulsing and alive inside her. **Scully… Scully… Scully.** He was thrusting harder and harder, wanting to cry out but no sound would come. His release was imminent. He could feel it burning. Mulder could sense waves of ecstasy just over the precipice. So close…  
_

_Cigarette smoke. The woods darkened. **No. No, no, no, no, no. No, not again.** Scully’s radiant blue eyes were now filled with fear. Suddenly Mulder was clothed. He stood up, holding onto Scully’s hand. The Cancer Man was there. Mulder couldn’t see him, but he was here. He was going to take Scully away from him again. He couldn’t let him have her. Scully’s hand started to slip out of his own. He couldn’t hold onto her. Cancer Man was taking her. His worst nightmare was coming true. The young boy was back, crying and pulling on Mulder’s arm; “help my mother,” “help my mother!” Scully was screaming._

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Mulder lunged off his couch, hitting his head hard on the coffee table, and ended up bent over on the floor. “Ouch, fuck,” Mulder whispered to himself as he rubbed his forehead, sitting up. The television was playing some old black & white film. Mulder got himself back sitting on the couch. He still felt afraid. Mulder reached for his phone to call Scully. He had to make sure she was okay. He looked at the time; 4:37 am. He then saw he was still wearing the same clothes he’d worn to Mrs. Scully’s. The past day’s events came back to him. He put the phone down. Scully was fine. It was just a dream.


	8. “But she was beautiful; fatally, stunningly prepossessing. Yet the compensatory respect she commanded only deepened the yearnings of her heart; to let it open, to let someone in.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully ponders her life and gets called upon to work a horrific case in Arkansas. Mulder and Scully eat some ice cream with a side of angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulsavers – “In the Morning”
> 
> The leaves are falling  
> It’s in your nature  
> I’m counting all the sticks left on the ground  
> Early this morning  
> When I tried to wake ya  
> You wasn’t making any kind of sound
> 
> Why can’t you hear me?  
> Why don't you feel me?  
> Was there a message  
> That I’m not getting?  
> Do you think that I am lost or am I found?  
> Just after midnight  
> When I woke up sweating  
> I was dreaming you were right here with me now
> 
> No  
> Why can’t you hear me?  
> Why don’t you heal me?  
> I am lost  
> I am lost here  
> I’m lost here now
> 
> So I am nothing  
> If I’m not with you  
> In the morning  
> We’ll forget this night somehow

Following the events of the 4th of July weekend, the rest of the month was dragging slowly. Work was insipid. Scully was basically accomplishing little to nothing down there in the basement by herself. In the last week of July, she’d been called in by the Little Rock Field Office to consult on a murder case involving the deaths and mutilations of several young children that appeared to be satanic in nature. They had actually wanted Mulder, of course. But he was unavailable, so they contacted Scully because they’d heard she was “the next best thing.”

Scully had to brace herself when asked to perform the autopsies on the four victims. It was one of the most horrific things she’d ever had to do. Once the autopsies were finished, she hid in a locked stall of an empty women’s bathroom and called Mulder in tears. She couldn’t cry in front of the other agents, police officers, and pathologists at the Medical Examiner’s office. For a long time, she’d felt she could never cry in front of Mulder either. She knew that Mulder saw her as an equal, someone who commanded authority and respect. But she also knew Mulder never saw her tears as something that marked her as inferior, or as having some kind of weakness.

Naturally, no real evidence of satanic cultism was found. As she was on her flight from Arkansas back to Washington just two days later, the FBI and state police were rounding up all the sex offenders in several counties. In truth, the only reason she went out there was to escape the humdrum atmosphere the basement office took on in the absence of her partner.

Scully had no idea where Mulder was half the time these days, or what he was doing. She’d call his cell phone, and most of the time he wouldn’t answer. She’d call his home phone, and get the answering machine. Then he’d call her back and leave a message. Scully started to notice that he’d always call when she wouldn’t be around to answer the phone. Mulder knew that, in the summertime, Scully liked to get out of the office and spend her lunch break in John Marshall Park. And almost every day when she’d return from lunch, there would be a voicemail from Mulder, saying “sorry I missed you.” Then she’d call him right back, but wouldn’t get an answer. Sometimes it was infuriating.

Then, after going all week being completely incommunicado, Mulder would show up at her apartment on a Friday evening with pizza, a six-pack of beer, and a terrible move like _The Jerk_. She would ask Mulder what he was doing with himself, and he’d always respond with a vague “oh, keeping busy.” Then he’d change the subject. The next week would go by with them playing phone tag again, and then Mulder would show up at her apartment out of the blue on a Sunday morning, telling her to get dressed because he had Yankees tickets. They’d drive to New York, spend a long afternoon at the baseball stadium, and then they’d drive back home, where Scully wouldn’t hear from Mulder again for days.

Working in the basement alone, and only seeing Mulder sporadically, forced Scully to realize that she missed him terribly when he wasn’t around. This was not something she found easy to admit to herself. She had worked hard over the past several years to portray herself as a strong, independent woman who not only was more than capable to work alongside Mulder, but who could walk away from the X-Files at any time and get on with her life. However, the events of the past year and even this summer of solitude in the basement had made this façade harder to keep up. Could she really just up and walk away from the X-Files at any moment? She probably should, but she felt stuck. Scully honestly had felt this way at times over the last couple years, but it was now starting to be a constant in her life.

Returning to regular FBI work after everything she’d seen and done with Mulder was impossible. The very idea of monotonous police work made her groan out loud. Perhaps she could go back to teaching at Quantico, or find a position in a top research hospital. But staying on with Mulder, investigating new and weird phenomena that had yet to be discovered, was shaping up to also be an impossible scenario if her relationship with him wasn’t going to change. She wanted Mulder in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with work. There were other aspects of her life that she just couldn’t go on ignoring anymore. She had been trying to do everything she could to convince herself, and everyone around her, that she could easily live without Mulder if she had to, but all the while the secret person of the heart was silently pleading with him to ensure that she never had to.

There had been moments, during the rare occasions they’d spent in each other’s company since Mulder returned from his mother’s house in Connecticut, where he always seemed just on the verge of taking her in his arms, or opening up and pouring out his heart. But then he’d pull away. Scully now had the feeling that Mulder was so busy respecting her as his partner, that he couldn’t even see what she needed from him as a woman. Scully had desperately wanted to force Mulder’s hand. But what if she made Mulder run in the opposite direction? Mulder was so solitary by nature, that that was a likely outcome if she was forced to browbeat him into revealing his true feelings.

But Scully knew she couldn’t wait around for Mulder forever. That sensation of being stuck was welling up again. What about her future? What did it even look like? If something, God forbid, happened to Mulder, she’d be all alone. She had no one else, not really. She suddenly thought of her brothers and their wives, surrounded by their beautiful children, who would be their joy and comfort in their old age. Scully was no longer content with loneliness. She’d never be able to be a mother, but she could still have unconditional love. And there was only one person whom she could ever imagine being with. Life without Mulder was inconceivable, but living a life with him in it, and yet always just out of her reach, would be intolerable.

*****

At eight o’clock on Friday morning, August 6th, Scully had walked into the basement office preparing for another day of doldrums. The majority of the morning went by slowly. Scully replied to emails and reviewed the official report of her findings in the Arkansas murder case before she was to submit it to Skinner later that day. At just past 11:30 am, there was a knock on the office door.

Scully looked up, startled. “Come in.” Who could it be? Skinner wouldn’t have knocked.

The door opened and there was Detective Kresge, who worked for the San Diego Police Department. Scully stared. He was the last person she ever expected.

“Detective Kresge!” Scully said enthusiastically, getting up from the desk and walking towards him. “How are you? What brings you all the way out here?”

Detective Kresge smiled and shook Scully’s hand. “I’m good, thanks. But I’m not a detective anymore. It’s Lieutenant Kresge now.”

“Congratulations on the promotion,” Scully replied.

“Thanks. I’m actually in town attending the National Academy at Quantico.”

“Wow,” Scully replied, impressed. “That’s great. I’m glad you’re doing well. So what brings you down here, in the basement?”

Kresge smirked. “Yeah, I was wondering about that. When I signed in and asked to see you, they told me you were in the basement. I figured you were down here looking for something or going through old files, so I told them to just direct me to your office and I’d wait for you. They got a real kick out of that.”

“I bet they did.” Scully gave a sardonic look. “So, you came here to see me?”

“Yeah,” Kresge said simply. “I knew you were here, and I don’t know anyone in the area other than my classmates. I wondered how you were doing, so I decided to look you up.”

“Well, that was thoughtful of you.” Scully smiled.

“You look good,” Kresge said matter-of-factly, without hint of embarrassment or awkwardness.

“Um, thank you,” Scully replied, not quite meeting his eyes.

“So… you got plans for dinner tonight?”

Scully gave a surprised look. “No. Do you mean, like a date?”

“Yeah, like a date,” Kresge grinned.

*****

Scully sighed as she came through her apartment door and locked it behind her. She tossed her keys on the table and kicked off her heels. It felt good to get them off her feet. The wine from dinner had given her a relaxed, fuzzy feeling, and she hummed to herself while she walked towards the kitchen to get some ice cream. The sight of Mulder sitting at her kitchen table stopped her in her tracks.

“Mulder! What are you doing sitting here in the dark?! Trying to scare me to death?”

Scully walked over to the wall and flipped the light switch. The kitchen was suddenly bathed in soft light.

“Where were you?” Mulder asked, ignoring her question and eyeing her dark blue cocktail dress.

“I went out to dinner. I might ask the same of you,” Scully retorted. “Where have _you_  been all week?”

“Working on some stuff. Keeping busy,” Mulder replied. “Who were you with?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of  _your_  business, Mulder,” bristled Scully.

“Why? Was it a date, or something?” Mulder scoffed.

“Yes, it was,” Scully said evenly. She opened the freezer and pulled out a carton of French vanilla. “Do you want some ice cream?”

Mulder stared. “Sure. So who was your dinner companion?”

“Detective Kresge,” replied Scully. “Oh, well it’s Lieutenant now. Lieutenant Kresge.”

Mulder watched Scully as she stood on her tip toes to reach for two bowls, and then walked to the other side of her sink to open a drawer and pull out two spoons.

“Why does that name sound familiar?” Mulder questioned.

“He helped me with the Emily Sim case in San Diego.”

Scully chided herself on her use of words. It made her sound so cold. But truthfully, referring to that experience as “the Emily Sim case” served as a helpful way to detach herself. But then Scully thought of her situation with Mulder and knew just how big of a problem emotional detachment could be.

“I shouldn’t have said it like that,” Scully sighed, as she dished up the ice cream. “The truth is most of the time I can manage to make myself forget about Emily. But then I remember, and my heart breaks all over again. As if it had just happened yesterday, instead of almost two years ago.”

She sat at the table crosswise from Mulder, setting his bowl in front of him. For some seconds, they ate their ice cream in silence.

“So how did this dinner date with Kresge come about?” Mulder finally asked.

“He’s at Quantico for the FBINA training course. He stopped by headquarters to see how I was doing. And then he asked me to dinner.”

Scully’s face reddened. She didn’t know whether to admit the real truth or not. She decided the fewer secrets between them, the better.

“But… as it turns out, Bill had run into him in San Diego before he left for the course and told him to look me up. Even told him to ask me out. Apparently, he told Kresge that I was in need of some ‘different male company.’”

Scully had mockingly air-quoted Bill’s words, while holding her spoon, causing Mulder to chuckle.

“Bill Jr is clearly desperate at this point,” Mulder replied.

“Heh, yeah, I suppose so. Oh well. I still had a nice time. I can’t remember the last time someone took me out.”

“Scully! We just went to a baseball game last week!” Mulder said, looking affronted.

“Yeah, well… you know what I mean. I don’t think I’ve been on a date since Ed Jerse. And we both know how well that turned out.” Scully smirked, rolling her eyes.

Scully then noticed an abrupt change in Mulder’s posture. He had tensed up. Silence filled the kitchen.

“Why did you agree to go out with him in the first place?” Mulder asked.

“Who? Kresge? Or Jerse?” Scully replied, eyeing Mulder warily. She didn’t want this to escalate into an argument. She also really didn’t want to talk about the fact that the last time she had sex, it was with a guy whose tattoo was telling him to kill people.

Mulder looked as if he was debating the answer. “Kresge,” he finally said.

Scully thought that Mulder probably didn’t want to go down the Jerse road either.

“I don’t know,” said Scully. “He asked me if I had dinner plans, and I answered honestly. I couldn’t really think of a legitimate reason to refuse his offer.”

“Oh.”

Did Mulder look hurt? Scully started to feel guilty, but that guilt quickly turned into annoyance.

“So, are you going to tell me what it is you’ve been up these past few weeks? Or are you going to keep me in the dark?” Scully asked icily.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Scully,” Mulder replied in that dead tone of his.

And as Friday, August 6th came to a close, Mulder and Scully sat at her kitchen table in silence, both feeling angry and frustrated and completely miserable.


	9. “You can’t hide the truth from me because if you do, then you’re working against me, and yourself.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out what Mulder's been doing to keep himself busy.
> 
> It's been a few days since I updated, so I wrote an extra long chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fleetwood Mac – “No Questions Asked”
> 
> When I see him, I feel him  
> There's an intenseness  
> In him, in his eyes  
> He wants me to be with him  
> He wants me with him now  
> 'Cause she just seems to be missin'  
> How could that happen anyhow?
> 
> So how can you say  
> Well I don't know what love is?  
> You haven't and you have no time for it  
> You feel completely different  
> You feel pushed up against the wall  
> And then one day it just almost goes away  
> You spend lots of time alone and  
> Sometimes you spend years  
> And you miss those arms that used to go around you
> 
> Night after night  
> No questions asked and  
> Who cares, the cold wind of it all, every time  
> Well it's hard to be civil  
> And it's real hard to be nice  
> But you did it my love, every time
> 
> So how can you say “well I can't see you”  
> Not now, not tomorrow, not until it's right  
> Not until  
> None of us is pushed up against the wall  
> I don't know, the wind doesn't get you anymore
> 
> So today she says, "Well I've changed my mind"  
> "That's a woman's right,” they say  
> Well I'm frightened and I'm lost and I  
> Can't give you up, not now  
> I need you now, I'm brokenhearted  
> Broke down like a little girl
> 
> Well I need you now, well I'm brokenhearted  
> Well I broke down like a little girl  
> I need you now, no questions asked  
> I broke down like a little girl

Mulder couldn’t go back to sleep after the dream and lied awake on the couch for another hour, thinking about Scully, and trying not to think about the Cigarette-Smoking Man. Then he bolted up and sat at his computer. He pulled a disc out of the top right drawer and inserted it into the CD-ROM drive. Mulder had been trying to avoid it, but he knew it had to be done. It was possible the Lone Gunmen had missed something, or overlooked the significance of an observation made by Diana. He had to read what was on this disc for himself.

Mulder spent the next three hours reading every file, every report Diana had saved onto the disc. Something of note, which Mulder found strange, was that the 30 MUFON women of the pregnancy trial Diana had conducted were all inoculated with the vaccine before their chips were activated to start ovulation; the same vaccine that Mulder had used to save Scully’s life in Antarctica. Why? Was the branched DNA alien in nature? No, that didn’t make sense. Did the ovulation caused by the chip have an effect on the branched DNA, perhaps causing it to mutate? Would there be problems with the pregnancy if the mother contained no immunity to the alien virus?

Mulder’s head was starting to hurt. How could he even begin to find out the answers? Diana was dead and gone. The Consortium had all burned up. Perhaps Marita Covarrubias could provide some clarity, if she was even alive. She wasn’t looking too good the last time Mulder saw her. He supposed Krycek was still out there somewhere, surviving like a cockroach. Cancer Man was somewhere out there, too. Mulder mentally chastised himself; _DON’T THINK ABOUT HIM._

Mulder let out a deep sigh. He needed Scully to help make some sense of this. Then that familiar guilty feeling reared its ugly head. Mulder thought that telling Scully wasn’t such a good idea, but he wasn’t exactly sure why. Why did Diana’s involvement make him feel so guilty? He felt dirty somehow, as if her sins had become his as well. Maybe he felt that way because he had staunchly defended Diana whenever Scully cast aspersions on her character.

Or maybe it was because of The Dream. The dream in which Mulder, knowing the truth about Diana’s duplicitousness, had willingly abandoned Scully, and chosen a life where he was obliviously imprisoned in a Suburbia of Lies. Mulder knew that it was silly to beat himself up over choices made in a dream, which one had no control over. But Mulder thought it was humiliating that, for someone so obsessed with searching for the truth, he had zero problems accepting the lie where Diana Fowley had been concerned.

Mulder was determined to find some answers. He may have felt that he couldn’t bring Scully in on this, but that didn’t mean he’d have to work alone. He pulled on a pair of shoes and grabbed his keys.

*****

“Mulder!” exclaimed Frohike as he opened the door to the Lone Gunmen’s headquarters. “You’ve got perfect timing. We're making huevos rancheros.”

Mulder stared at Frohike’s 'Kiss the Cook' apron. “I didn’t come down here for food. So pardon me if I don’t pucker up.”

Frohike gave Mulder the stink-eye as he walked through the door and sat down in a chair opposite from Langly and Byers.

“So what brings you down here?” Byers asked, as Frohike joined them at the table.

“Oh, just wanted to see if you boys were interested in some unofficial investigative work,” Mulder replied.

The Gunmen raised their eyebrows. “We’re listening,” said Langly.

“The clinical trial Diana conducted with the MUFON women,” Mulder began. “Do you think that was limited to just one study in Europe, or do you think something similar could’ve been happening here in this country?"

They stared at Mulder.

“I think we need to look further into the MUFON chapters here,” Mulder continued. “There must be at least one whose female members were subjected to this pregnancy trial. There must be a record of it somewhere. We’ve got to find it.”

“We?” Byers questioned.

“I’m down for some excitement,” said Langly. “It’s been a slow summer so far.”

“So…,” Frohike paused. “Will that sweet partner of yours be joining us?”

“Calm down, Melvin,” Mulder said flatly. “And no, Scully won’t be working on this.”

Byers eyed him questioningly. “Why not?”

Mulder hesitated. “Because technically I’m on medical leave from work. This investigation will be strictly unofficial. If I were to bring Scully along, who is currently working as an active agent, I would run the risk of getting her into trouble with the Bureau. You know how Scully has to do things by the book.”

“I’m sure Scully would still want to come along,” Langly said.

“She’s got enough blemishes on her personnel file because of me, don’t you think?” Mulder responded.

“Agent Scully doesn’t care about that,” said Frohike dismissively.

“I do.”

The Lone Gunmen exchanged looks, and then promptly dropped the subject.

“So where do we start?” asked Byers.

“We start by contacting the Mutual UFO Network,” Mulder replied. “See if there are any chapters with reports of once barren members suddenly becoming pregnant.”

*****

Late on Friday afternoon, July 16th, Mulder walked through the door to his apartment, tossed his keys on the table, and sat at his desk. He’d spent a long week with the Lone Gunmen driving up and down the northeast in the Gunmen’s van, and speaking with MUFON members or at least trying to. Most female members were all dead of brain cancer. The men belonging to the now dwindling groups had no knowledge of any pregnancies. Mulder glanced down at his answering machine, noticed he had five unheard messages, and pressed the play button.

“Hi, it’s me. I got your message here at the office. I was having my lunch at John Marshall Park. Did you forget that I have lunch there when the weather is nice? I had called you because Charlie and Jennifer were wondering if you’d like to go to dinner sometime. Let me know.”

He didn’t know how he felt about that.

“Hello Fox, it’s your mother. Just wondering how you were doing. Give me a call when you get a chance.”

He sighed. He’d call her later.

“Hello Marty, it’s Vanessa. It’s been so long since I’ve heard your sexy voice. I’ve been so lonely and missing you terribly. Marty, just for you we’re running a special low rate of 45 cents each additional minute after $2.99 for the first minute. Call me soon, lover.”

He rolled his eyes and pressed the delete button.

“Mulder, it’s me. I got your message. I was on my lunch break. In the park. As usual. Which you apparently have forgotten about. Again. Anyways, to answer your question, I haven’t really been doing anything all that exciting lately. I’ve just been working on a monograph on PCR genotyping for the _Forensic Sciences Journal_. What have _you_ been doing, Mulder?”

He felt a twinge of guilt.

“You know, Mulder, maybe you should try calling at any time other than my lunch break. Or, here’s a novel idea, if you need to speak to me when I’m having lunch just call my cell.” _  
_

Shit, she’s pissed. Mulder hadn’t seen her since last Saturday morning, when he had stopped by her place with breakfast after making a Dunkin’ Donuts run. He missed her. Working with the Lone Gunmen was better than working alone, but they weren’t Scully. No one was.

*****

At 6:25 pm, Mulder was knocking on Scully’s door while holding a pizza, with a Steve Martin movie sitting on top of the box, and a six-pack of Rolling Rock. Scully, wearing a white tank top and black jeans, opened her door and pursed her lips. He could tell she was debating how to react to his unannounced presence at her apartment after avoiding her phone calls all week. Scully then sighed and stepped back from the doorway, allowing Mulder to come in.

He set the pizza and beer on Scully’s living room table.

“ _The Jerk_ , Mulder? Seriously?”

“It’s an American comedy classic, Scully.”

She rolled her eyes. He thought she still seemed irritated with him.

“And it’s also an apology,” Mulder said, while holding up the VHS case next to his face and pouting.

Scully chuckled and shook her head. She went into the kitchen to grab a couple plates and a bottle opener, and then returned to the living room, sitting on the couch and opening two bottles of Rolling Rock.

While eating pizza, Scully asked him what he’d been doing with himself. Mulder deflected the question and asked after her family. They then enjoyed sitting together on Scully’s couch, laughing through the movie along with plenty of eye rolling and pointed looks thrown Mulder’s way during the more ridiculous parts of the film. He would laugh in return.

Scully was sitting near enough to him so that Mulder could just reach out and hold her hand. Or pull her closer to him and put his arms around her. He wanted to. Occasionally during the movie, his mind would wander to an alternate universe where they were urgently moving to the bedroom, while frantically groping at each other in the dark and ripping at each other’s clothes, until his fingers found her wet slit and her small warm hand stroked his hard cock.

“Mulder, are you all right?” asked Scully. “You look glazed over.”

He mentally checked himself for allowing his thoughts to get so carried away. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just getting tired.”

As Mulder drove home that night, he wondered how much longer they would be able to be alone together at each other’s apartments before he lost control. He couldn’t stand being so close to Scully, and yet unable to bring himself to touch her. But why would she even want that? It could ruin everything. This was becoming a constant torment.

When he arrived home, he found a new message waiting for him on his machine and within seconds Byers’ voice could be heard.

“Mulder, we just contacted a now-defunct MUFON chapter in Raleigh, North Carolina. Also located in Raleigh is one Lombard Center for Reproductive Medicine, now closed and no longer in operation. I don’t suppose the name Lombard rings any bells? Delete this message and call us back.”

*****

Mulder and the Lone Gunmen spent the next week in North Carolina, conducting interviews with former MUFON members. They even managed to break into the closed down Lombard Center for Reproductive Medicine, but found the building to be completely empty. Several of the men they spoke to knew of nine women of the Raleigh chapter, all married, whose cancer had suddenly gone into remission and then within a month or two were pregnant after receiving treatment from the Lombard Center. This caused a lot of speculation and even contention within the group, as other members grew angry and suspicious over these women agreeing to have the chips placed back in their necks.

The women all suffered miscarriages, but would return to the Lombard Center and soon after were pregnant again. Only to once again suffer a miscarriage. On Friday they met with Paul Solometo, one of the former MUFON members and professed alien abductee. He said this pregnancy/miscarriage cycle occurred three times before the Lombard Center closed. Solometo also told of reported stolen computers in all the homes of MUFON members shortly before the Center shut down last summer. The MUFON chapter also disbanded last year because of the division among the group, and the women had eventually died.

On Saturday morning, July 24th, Mulder and the Lone Gunmen loaded up the van and headed home to D.C. During the drive back home Mulder didn’t say much, but sat quietly listening to the Gunmen’s chatter and only occasionally adding to the conversation.

“So, Mulder,” Langly spoke after a prolonged silence. “What does Agent Scully make of all this?”

“What?” he replied, startled out of his reverie. He didn’t quite know how to answer without causing suspicion. “Oh, she’s just as confused as the rest of us.”

“Well, if anyone can figure it out, she can,” Frohike said confidently.

Byers said nothing, but silently eyed Mulder in the rear view mirror. He caught his gaze, and then quickly looked away.

*****

When Mulder arrived home that afternoon, he was glad he hadn’t come home to more annoyed messages. This was mostly thanks to the fact that Mulder, even though he left random voicemails for her at work, took his cell phone to bed and called her every night from his motel room in Raleigh. Most nights they’d end up discussing the alien spacecraft Scully had found in Africa, and what that knowledge meant to their evolving belief systems. Now that Mulder was home, he desperately wanted to see Scully. But he didn’t think showing up at her place that night was a good idea. His thoughts were becoming harder to master, and the more explicit his thoughts, the more cruel his inner voice became.

Mulder was now convinced that Scully’s love for him didn’t surpass close friendship because how could it possibly. Look at everything she’d suffered because of her involvement with him. The best thing for Scully would be to get as far away from him as possible. She could have a chance for a normal life, maybe even a family, but at least a life where she wasn’t in danger every minute of the day because she worked on the X-Files. The dark government, the Smoking Man and his associates, had constantly used her as a pawn in their games to send Mulder down the wrong path, to mislead and manipulate him. They made Scully suffer to punish him, and if they ever found out that their partnership had become something more, they could easily do it again.

But this time it would be so much worse than before because in the past Mulder had been willing to do almost anything to save Scully’s life, _almost_. But if Mulder were to allow Scully unrestricted access to his heart, and his body, he wasn’t sure whether his moral compass would remain intact if they threatened her life again. He could easily go past the point of no return, where absolutely nothing would stay his hand if he found his enemies staring down the barrel of his gun. He could even end up willing to do the unthinkable: sell his soul to the Devil and place himself under the power of the Cigarette-Smoking Man.

Even though these harsh thoughts were useful in checking his momentary unguarded desires for Scully, he still could easily cross the line and lose control. So the next morning, Mulder showed up at Scully’s apartment at 9:00 am. He had called the Yankees box office the day before and scored two tickets for the Sunday game against the Cleveland Indians. A baseball stadium seemed like the perfect place, and also a safe one, to spend hours in Scully’s company.

*****

Their drive to New York was a pleasant one. They didn’t talk about work or Bill Jr. Mulder kept the radio on the classic rock station, and Scully found it amusing when he got really into songs like Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb” or Van Halen’s “Panama.” The sight of Mulder tapping the steering wheel and bobbing his head, silently mouthing the words, would send Scully into a fit of giggles.

“You’re really cutting loose over there, Mulder. Look at what vacation has done to you.”

He threw a sarcastic look in Scully’s direction.

“I’m just enjoying the ride, Scully. Maybe if the station plays some Fleetwood Mac, you’ll cut loose too,” Mulder deadpanned.

She rolled her eyes. “What’s wrong with Fleetwood Mac? They’re geniuses.”

Scully had never been to Yankee Stadium before, and Mulder loved playing tour guide. They spent the afternoon watching the game, complete with Mulder’s commentary, eating hot dogs and sharing popcorn, and drinking cold beer. Mulder thoroughly enjoyed seeing the almost constant smile on Scully’s face.

At the bottom of the eighth inning, Scully started yawning.

“Getting tired?” Mulder asked.

“Mm-hmm,” Scully answered, and then stifled another yawn.

She then snaked her right arm underneath Mulder’s left, crooking her elbow against his, and laying her hand on his forearm, then leaning her head against his shoulder. Mulder smiled. As Scully dozed, she absentmindedly started to softly brush the tips of her fingers up and down his arm. Mulder closed his eyes. His heart swelled, and that long-forgotten hopeful feeling returned. In that moment, Mulder wished he could do nothing more than spend the rest of his life making Scully happy.

Late on Wednesday afternoon, July 28th, Scully called Mulder to tell him that she’d been asked to go to Arkansas to assist the Little Rock Bureau with a murder case that had potential satanic cultist overtones, and she’d be leaving that evening. Mulder didn’t like the idea of Scully flying to the other side of the country without him, but he didn’t say anything. He knew she was desperate to get out of the basement.

The following day, Scully had called Mulder crying. Performing the autopsies on those children had taken a serious emotional toll on her, as it would’ve done to anyone. Mulder was glad that she called him, and that he was able to provide some comfort and a listening ear. Scully was always so independent; not allowing him to see her cry, not sharing her fears, not wanting Mulder to feel like he needed to protect her; her vulnerabilities always hidden underneath the surface. Until recently, anyways. Mulder felt relieved when Scully called him on Friday to tell him she was flying home to D.C.

*****

Scully spent the weekend in Baltimore babysitting for Charlie and Jennifer, so Mulder didn’t hear from her until Monday morning after she’d arrived at work. There was a voicemail for him that had been left on Saturday afternoon. It was someone named Paul Solometo of the Mutual UFO Network asking Mulder to give him a call when he gets a chance. He left a phone number with a 919 area code: Raleigh-Durham. Scully had assumed it was one of his usual sources, and Mulder didn’t correct her. She asked what Mulder thought it was in reference to, but he told her he had no idea. Scully then told him she’d be in and out of the office this week because one of the pathologists at Quantico had asked her to take over some duties while he took his family on vacation.

Mulder then drove to the Lone Gunmen’s office, where they called Solometo. He said that there was something he’d forgotten about and thought he’d call Mulder to tell to him about it, in case it was useful. After the pregnancies failed for the third time, an FBI Agent (“a woman, tall and brunette”) came into town to investigate and spoke to the women about their infertility treatment. The Lombard Center then unexpectedly closed down just a few days later and the doctors all left their homes in Raleigh. They hadn’t been seen or heard from since. All the MUFON women were soon after plagued with the recurrence of cancerous brain tumors.

Mulder and the Lone Gunmen sat in silence. There had been no other reports from MUFON groups in other areas of the country of astonishing pregnancies experienced by barren members. The Raleigh chapter had been the only one. There were also no reports of other Lombard facilities popping up anywhere. Mulder had no idea where to go from here.

“Maybe we should call Agent Scully,” Frohike suggested. “She might know what do to.”

“She’s at Quantico,” Mulder replied, rather brusquely. “I don’t want to bother her.”

“But Scully could really help,” Langly added. “She could investigate using official channels, maybe find out what else Diana was up to while working for the FBI.”

“For the last time, Scully has enough on her plate working the X-Files by herself,” Mulder firmly replied. No way was he ever going to mention Diana to her again. “She doesn’t have time to be running around with us.”

“Doesn’t she have a theory?” Langly continued. “Some idea that might be helpful? She’s got to have some kind of opinion about it.”

Mulder sighed. “If Scully had a theory or a suggestion, don’t you think I would’ve already tried it by now? She doesn’t know what to do any more than we do. In all likelihood, these experiments have stopped and they’ve covered up their tracks pretty good.”

He stood up and walked to the door, asking them to give him a call if anything else turns up. Frohike and Langly shook their heads, while Byers stared at Mulder’s back until the door closed. After he was outside, a voice called out to him.

“Mulder!”

He turned and saw Byers walking towards him. “Yeah?”

Byers hesitated nervously, but then appeared to steel himself. “Why haven’t you told Agent Scully about this?”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You haven’t told Scully a single thing about we’ve been doing. She has no clue about these experiments on the MUFON women. You didn’t even tell her about Diana’s disc, did you? Why?”

Mulder swallowed. “I decided it was best to leave her out of it.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

He sighed and shifted his feet.

“She’s gonna kill us when she finds out, Mulder!”

He thought it was kind of humorous that Byers actually looked scared. “Byers, calm down. Everything will be fine. I gotta go.”

Byers could only watch helplessly as Mulder started to walk away. Suddenly, Mulder turned around and shot an ominous stare at him.

“Oh, and Byers… Scully better not find out.”

*****

At 8:30 pm on Friday evening, August 6th, Mulder showed up at Scully’s apartment. He figured he was going against his better judgment, but decided to throw caution to the wind. She wasn’t at home. Where could she be this time of night? Oh well, he’d wait. He just had to see her. To go from being with Scully all day long almost every day, to only once a week at the most was making him miserable, on top of everything else that was making him miserable these days. It’s his own damn fault.

Mulder knew he had to make a decision about Scully. He felt stuck between a rock and a hard place, and it couldn’t go on much longer. It had to be all or nothing. But why? Why does there have to be a choice between pursuing the truth and being with Scully? Mulder had felt tormented by his dreams lately. Every night he’d see Scully on that beach, and he’d take Scully in his arms and fulfill his desires. Or at least he tried to. Every night the Cancer Man invaded his passion, pulling Scully away from him and touching the chip at the base of her neck. Scully would scream, and Mulder would wake up sweating and filled with anxiety. He thought it was a sign, a warning of some kind.

Mulder believed he could never have Scully the way that he truly wanted, not unless he gave up his quest. Otherwise, they’d never let him have her. Forget about what those closed-minded people at the FBI thought about them. He’d not only be jeopardizing her reputation, but her life. Mulder was still searching for answers, for his sister. He’d chosen Scully over his quest, and over his sister, before. Was he ready to walk away from it completely, so that he could actually have a life with Scully? And who’s to say Scully even wants him that way. Sometimes he felt sure that she did, and other times he convinced himself that their bond was nothing more than friendship to Scully. But this couldn’t go on anymore. He had to talk to her about it, about their future. Scully wouldn’t take kindly to being pushed out of the X-Files, but he had to draw a line somewhere. It’d be for her own good, anyways.

These were the thoughts running through his mind as Mulder sat at Scully’s kitchen table, waiting for her to come home. Eventually the sun set and the apartment grew dark, but Mulder wasn’t motivated enough to get up and turn on the lights.

Then, just after 10:30 pm, he could hear Scully’s key in the door. He watched her walk inside, put her keys down, and take off her shoes. She had on a dark dress that stopped above her knees. She was humming. Where the fuck had she been all night?

Scully was startled when she saw him sitting there, and got kind of snippy when he asked her where she’d been. But Mulder could tell she wasn’t that angry. Now she was asking him if he wanted ice cream. Had she been drinking? Wait… did she just say she’d been out on a _date?_

He watched Scully as she closed the freezer door and set the ice cream at the opposite end of the table from Mulder. He watched her as she walked to one of the cupboards and opened the door. Mulder thought about offering to help but he was rooted in his seat, staring at her.

She was talking about Kresge, but he found it hard to concentrate on what she was saying. She had on a backless blue dress, and he watched her upper back stretch as she reached for two bowls. His gaze followed her move across her sink and open a drawer to pull out spoons. She came back to the table and started dishing up the ice cream, and Mulder watched the muscles in her right arm contract and extend. Now she was talking about Emily. Was there anything terrible that _hasn’t_ happened to Scully?

Scully walked towards his end of the table carrying the bowls of ice cream, and sat down kitty-cornered from him. As he ate his ice cream, all the things he’d planned on saying to Scully escaped him, and so he let her lead the conversation. Maybe now wasn’t the right time.

Mulder couldn’t believe that Bill Jr would ask a random acquaintance of Scully’s, someone she hadn’t seen since Christmas ’97 and under dire circumstances, to take her out on a date to try and lure her away from him. But on second thought, he could totally believe it. Bill Jr was an ass. And did Scully just say she had a nice time anyways?

To Mulder’s chagrin, apparently having a pizza and movie night and going to Yankee stadium didn’t count as taking Scully out somewhere. Sure, maybe to Scully spending the day at a baseball game might not compare to dinner in a fancy restaurant, but that had arguably been one of the best days he’d had all year. Whatever. What the fuck did she just say? Did she just mention Jerse? _Goddammit._

Mulder didn’t like the way this conversation was going. What made her think that spending the night with a complete stranger she met at a tattoo parlor in a shitty neighborhood was a good fucking idea? Was she angry with him about something? It had to be more than just not having a goddamned desk. _“Not everything is about you, Mulder. It’s my life.”_ Yeah, well guess what? Her life was now his life. What happens to her is his business.

He was glad she never did anything so stupid again, but he didn’t want to talk about Jerse right now. Or ever. “Kresge,” Mulder replied to her question.

“He asked me if I had dinner plans, and I answered honestly. I couldn’t really think of a legitimate reason to refuse his offer,” Scully said.

Mulder stared at his spoon. No reason to refuse going on a date with some other guy, huh? Well, that settles that, then.

He still had one more week of medical leave, but, in light of recent events, he felt it was high time that he went back to work. As Mulder walked through his apartment door, not long after midnight, he decided to call Skinner in the morning.


	10. “Hey, Scully, is this demonstration of boyish agility turning you on at all?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully get into trouble at work. He then rides in a canoe with her, and they sleep in a tent.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imperial Mammoth – “Requiem On Water”
> 
> Slow, we paddle through the lake  
> Straight to the very center  
> Of the darkest water  
> Where we can embrace  
> The shadows on the surface  
> The eyes that look up lifeless  
> From our twins below
> 
> And though your arms and legs are under  
> Love will be the echo in your ears  
> When all is lost and plunder  
> My love will be there still
> 
> True, it's chilling to behold  
> Up close we stumble backwards  
> Laughing in our boats till  
> The image sinks away to  
> Someplace far but certain  
> A land of mere suspension  
> Where someday we must go
> 
> And though your arms and legs are under  
> Love will be the echo in your ears  
> When all is lost and plunder  
> My love will be there still
> 
> Though your arms and legs are under  
> Love will be the echo in your ears  
> When all is lost and plunder  
> My love will be there still

Over the weekend, following that miserable Friday night spent in her kitchen with a brooding Mulder, Scully hadn’t heard anything from him. There was a marked coolness in the way Mulder said goodbye to her when he left, that gave her an unexplainable sense of dread. Scully could count on one hand the number of times Mulder had been legitimately angry with her over the past six years, and the feeling turned her stomach. Every time she went to pick up the phone to call him, she changed her mind. She had no idea what she’d say. Scully thought about apologizing, but she didn’t think she had anything to apologize for.

On Monday morning, August 9th, Scully made her way through the employee entrance at FBI headquarters and stepped onto the elevator. Also getting on the elevator was another female agent, who warmly greeted Scully.

“Hi Dana! How’re you?”

“Oh, hi Natalie. How are you doing?”

“Good. You goin’ to the Team Building Seminar this weekend?”

“Is that this weekend?” Scully couldn’t remember whether she’d heard anything about this or not.

“Yeah. They’re having the conference in Philadelphia this year,” Natalie replied. “It’s this Saturday. Should be fun. Are you and Agent Mulder going?”

“Um… no, not this year. Mulder is still on medical leave, so we’re going to end up missing it.” He would certainly be thrilled at having escaped the teamwork seminar yet again.

Natalie looked slightly disappointed. “That’s too bad.”

The elevator stopped on the third floor, and Natalie started to make her way out. “Well, hopefully I’ll see you around, Dana. We should have lunch sometime. Oh, and tell Agent Mulder I said hello.” Natalie smiled and the doors closed.

Scully got off the elevator on the fourth floor and made her way to Skinner’s office. Scully was greeted by his secretary, saying “It must be good to have Agent Mulder back, huh?” as she opened Skinner’s door for her. Scully gave her a puzzled look before turning and seeing Mulder, wearing his charcoal suit, sitting in a chair in front of Skinner’s desk. She stopped and stared at him.

“Thanks for coming, Agent Scully,” Skinner said as he got up from his desk. “Take a seat.”

Mulder didn’t say a word, and hadn’t even looked at her from the moment she arrived. Scully sat down in the chair next to him.

“For starters,” Skinner began. “Good work in Arkansas, Agent Scully. The forensics you pulled from the victims’ bodies led them to make an arrest. The Little Rock Field Office is very appreciative.”

“I’m glad I was able to help, sir,” Scully replied, still confused about Mulder’s presence in the office.

“Secondly, Agent Mulder,” Skinner continued. “I honestly would’ve been shocked had you rode out your entire medical leave. I was actually expecting your request to return to work weeks ago.”

“I found ways to keep myself busy,” Mulder replied.

“Now, the real reason we’re here…” said Skinner, as he held up a piece of paper. “Is your request to go to Africa, to the site where Agent Scully made her… discovery.”

Scully quickly turned her head and stared at Mulder. This was news to her. Mulder swallowed, but continued to look resolutely at Skinner.

“What do you have to say about this?” Skinner asked her.

“Uh… I don’t know, sir,” Scully hesitated. “The chances are more than likely that the craft isn’t even there anymore.”

“Well, regardless, Agent Mulder’s request has been denied.”

“Why?” Mulder asked heatedly.

“I hate to break it to you, Mulder,” replied Skinner, with an exasperated look. “But the Ivory Coast in West Africa isn’t under FBI jurisdiction.”

“But Agent Scully went there,” Mulder insisted, but still not looking at her. Scully felt like he was talking about her like she wasn’t in the room.

“Yes, she did,” Skinner said, glaring at Scully. “Unofficially, and without permission.”

“To save Agent Mulder’s life, sir.” She was not about to apologize for this. Scully watched Mulder’s mouth twitch slightly but he said nothing.

“I’m not trying to invalidate your actions, Agent Scully,” Skinner replied in a softer tone. “You did what you felt you had to do. But Agent Mulder is requesting to go to Africa as an official X-Files investigation, which is something the Bureau cannot allow.”

Scully sighed. She wished Mulder had talked to her about this. She wished he would’ve told her he was coming back to work. She wished Mulder would at least look at her.

“Is that the final decision?” Mulder asked tersely.

“As far as you’re concerned, yes,” Skinner answered. “You may go now, agents.”

Mulder and Scully made their way to the basement office in silence. Mulder unlocked the door, and went to sit at his desk. Scully followed him inside, pulled up a chair, and sat facing him with arms crossed. She had no idea what to say. She wanted to rail against him for continuing to keep things from her, for leaving her out. But Scully had already had a miserable weekend, and she just wanted things to go back to normal.

“So when were you going to tell me about Africa?” she asked him, making sure her tone wasn’t argumentative or accusatory. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back to work, for that matter?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Mulder replied evasively.

“Well, it worked.” She arched her eyebrow.

“Scully, there are still answers to be found,” he said. “That spaceship can’t be the only one. There must be more out there to find. Sometimes I feel like we’re not getting anywhere.”

“Mulder, that craft we found…,” she began.

“ _You_ found, Scully,” he corrected her, staring down at the desk. She could sense he felt disappointed.

She pursed her lips and sighed. “There is no ‘me’ in the X-Files, Mulder. It’s ‘us.’ Anything I may accomplish individually counts as your success too.”

At that, Mulder looked up and stared into her eyes as if he was just seeing her for the first time. He thought that there wasn’t anyone on the planet less selfish than her.

“Scully? Are you going to see Kresge again?”

“No, Mulder. I’m not.”

*****

Over the course of the week, Scully and Mulder managed to keep themselves busy at work. One of Mulder’s sources had sent him an email with a newspaper article about a teenage girl reportedly taken from her home under strange circumstances involving “bright lights,” “doors shaking,” and “a mysterious figure” entering the house. Mulder and Scully then drove to Lewistown, Pennsylvania to investigate, only to find that the “strange circumstances” of her abduction that had been recounted by her brother were brought on by hallucinations caused by drug use. In actuality, the girl was found in a town about 70 miles away staying in a motel room with her boyfriend.

Mulder had also found a way to submit a claim of “mental health reasons” as a way to get out of the seminar in Philadelphia that weekend.

“Mulder, in the six years we’ve been partners, we haven’t gone to one single teamwork conference,” she pointed out.

“Why should we have to, Scully? Other agents could spend 75 years at the Bureau and never even come close to seeing or doing the things we’ve done together. I don’t see how spending an entire Saturday in a hotel conference room listening to lectures about ‘going the extra mile,’ and having you direct me to find an item in the room while blindfolded is going to serve any useful purpose. But if you really want to try some teamwork activities with me, Scully, that blindfold might be fun.” Mulder waggled his eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Scully thought that building up some teamwork skills might not be a bad idea.

At 4:00 pm on Friday, August 13th, Mulder and Scully made their way to Skinner’s office to go over their report on the Lewistown, PA case. As they sat in front of Skinner’s desk, he appeared to be disturbed by something.

“Good work in Lewistown,” Skinner began. “Your report appears thorough.”

Mulder nodded. Scully pursed her lips. It seemed to them that Skinner looked uncomfortable. A moment later, his secretary Kimberly announced through the intercom that Deputy Director Cassidy was on the line. Skinner sighed and appeared to brace himself. He then put Cassidy on speaker phone.

“Hello, Deputy Director. I have Agents Mulder and Scully in my office.”

“Thank you, Walter. Agent Mulder, if you recall, I received a request form from you yesterday morning concerning your desire to investigate an alien UFO crash site in Africa, which I promptly and assiduously denied. I believe AD Skinner had already informed you that this kind of investigation would not be backed by the Bureau. And now I find out that not only did you once again go over your direct superior’s head, but over mine as well, and sent your ridiculous request this morning to the Director himself.”

Scully turned a shocked and incredulous face on Mulder. He met her eyes, confirming what the Deputy Director just said.

“Did you know anything about this, Agent Scully?” demanded Cassidy.

She looked at Mulder, who gave a slight nod of his head to direct her to answer honestly. “No sir, I did not.”

“Agent Scully, was not the purpose of sending you down to that godforsaken office in the basement was so that this kind of nonsense would be controlled? How is it that you have no idea of what your partner is doing?”

“Agent Mulder chose not to share this with me, sir.” Scully eyed him pointedly.

“Oh, I see. Well then, what do we do about that? I see here that you two have been partnered since 1993 and not once have you attended a single Team Building Seminar. In fact, Agent Mulder, earlier this week you submitted a claim of ‘mental health reasons’ stemming from your hospital stay earlier this year to the Training Division so that you didn’t have to attend the conference in Philadelphia. You must be having mental health problems if you thought sending that absurd request to the Director was a good idea.”

He sighed.

“Seeing as how it is late on Friday afternoon, the spots for the conference tomorrow are all filled up. However, fortunately for you, there is a vacancy elsewhere.”

Mulder shot an uneasy glance at Scully.

“A few of the field offices out in the mid-west have put together a three-day Team Building Retreat to be held in Colorado next weekend. You and Agent Scully will be going. You both seem to be in need of more effective teamwork and communication. AD Skinner will inform you of your travel arrangements. That is all.”

Deputy Director Cassidy hung up the phone. Skinner sighed. Mulder stared at the ceiling. Scully felt nervous, and excited.

*****

On Thursday evening, August 19th, Mulder and Scully arrived in Colorado Springs. After checking into a motel, Mulder put his bags down and sat on the end of his bed. Scully was just on the other side of the door to their adjoining rooms. He pondered about going over and seeing what she was up to, but then decided against it. The urges he was feeling at the moment could make a trip to Scully’s hotel room disastrous.

Mulder felt more conflicted than ever. One moment, he wanted to tell Scully it was best she left the X-Files and pursued her medical career. The next moment, the thought of her moving on without him sent him reeling with deep feelings of misery. How could he work with her all the time and still maintain a safe distance? How could he take what he wanted from her without endangering their partnership, or her life? He turned on the television and flipped through the channels. Nothing interested him, but the urges he was feeling were now overwhelmingly powerful and he needed release.

Mulder walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower, making sure the water was as hot as possible without burning him. Steam filled the room while he removed his t-shirt and unbuckled his pants. After removing his socks and boxer briefs, he stepped into the shower, letting out a sigh of relief as the hot water ran over his hard member.

Mulder placed his left forearm against the wall underneath the showerhead and leaned forward, then wrapped his right hand around his cock, giving a slow stroke. “God, Scully…”, he panted, and grew harder. He closed his eyes. His imagination took him from the shower back out to his room where he’d just been sitting on the end of the motel bed, but this time Scully had come through the door.

_She was kneeling in front of him, and undoing his jeans, sliding them down his legs along with his briefs. He shifted, spreading his legs apart. Scully then lowered her head down, running her tongue up and down Mulder’s hard shaft._

His own fingertips were gently stroking up and down, twisting over the head of his cock as the hot water ran over his shoulders. A low groan issued from his throat.

_Scully now wrapped her left hand around his balls, with her right hand pulling more and more of him into her mouth._

“Fuck, yes…”, Mulder hissed in the shower, and stroked faster. His loud moans echoed in the shower walls.

_Scully was moving her hand up and down at a quick pace, while her tongue swirled over the head of his cock. She was moaning and her eyes were on his._

A low, desperate sound escaped Mulder’s throat. He squeezed his eyes shut so that he was seeing stars. He was now pumping faster, sensing his imminent release. His legs shook, and he cried out “Fuck, Scully!” as his climax spilled over the shower wall. He stood there panting, gently stroking his softening member as he came down off his high, mumbling Scully's name, and leaning his entire body weight forward against the wall. The hot water washed him clean.

After drying off, Mulder pulled on a pair of Knicks gym shorts and a fresh white t-shirt. There was a knock on the door separating his room from Scully’s.

“Mulder? Are you decent?” Scully asked through the door. “I was going to order something for dinner. Do you want to eat together?”

He sighed. Thank goodness for that shower, or he’d have to refuse. “Sure, Scully. Be right over.”

*****

At 8:00 am on Friday morning, Mulder and Scully left for the River Dance Wilderness Lodge just outside the Colorado Springs city limits. The conference room was filled with 10 other FBI partnerships, from several different states, all seated at circular tables. When the clock struck 9:00 am exactly, two middle-aged men dressed in camouflage stood up at the front, introducing themselves to the room.

“My name is Bob Miller and this is Randy Avery. We’re the co-founders of Team Builders Ex. As former TOP GUN graduates, our extensive leadership experience as military professionals will make this team building workshop something you’ll never forget.”

Mulder leaned towards Scully, whispering “Kill me now.” She smirked.

Randy started to address the group. “As you can see, we asked you all to come in casual gear, and not your usual business attire. If you thought this was going to be just some seminar where we all sit in a stale hotel conference room all day building towers of furniture and doing trust falls, think again. We are here to turn two individuals into one insular unit of confidence, strength, and communication.”

“And we do that,” added Bob. “By throwing you into a real-life scenario and forcing you to work together to survive.”

Mulder and Scully exchanged apprehensive looks. They then sat through an hour-long keynote address covering the necessary skills required for effective teamwork, better communication, problem solving and decision making, and, finally, dealing with team conflict.

“Now let’s head out,” concluded Randy enthusiastically. Scully threw an uncomfortable look at Mulder, who was staring at the ceiling and shaking his head.

Everyone piled into several jeeps that were waiting outside, and departed the Lodge. As the trail of vehicles pulled off the highway, Scully noticed a sign that read “Golden Gate Pointe State Park” with “70,000 acres" in smaller print underneath. She wondered what was in store.

The jeeps arrived at a parking area, where there already was a large tent set up and filled with several picnic tables with backpacks placed upon them. There also was two women with clipboards, dressed in army fatigues. The group made their way over to the tent, and then was addressed by Bob and Randy.

“Now, seeing as this is a Wilderness Retreat, you’ll all be heading into the wilderness of the state park,” said Bob. “Each pair will receive a GPS unit and a map, and each person will receive a backpack already filled with anything you could possibly need. If you end up needing something else, then you’re not working together properly.”

“It is absolutely vital that each person here sticks with his or her own partner,” added Randy. “No separating. No joining other groups. There are only three hiking trails, out of many others, that will take you directly to the reservoir clear on the opposite side of the park. All three trails take more than 36 hours to hike when going at a pace of 20 miles per day, and stopping at night. We don’t expect all of you to go at that pace, but we expect all of you to reach the reservoir by midnight on Saturday.”

“This area may be a state park, but it is wild,” added Bob. “The terrain can be rough. You’ll have hot days, like today, but at night it could drop to the 50’s and you’ll feel real cold. You might walk faster or comprehend the map better than your partner. You may get frustrated with one another. The point is work through frustrations and conflict; to work on problem solving using patience, trust, and communication.”

Randy continued. “Each pair will be assigned a different trail, and this is the trail you must stick to. I don’t advise leaving the trail. The first three teams to make it to the reservoir get a trophy and bragging rights. And hopefully all of you will acquire more effective teamwork and a new sense of appreciation for your partner.”

The teams all lined up at the tent with the women holding clipboards. The women called out names, and then handed out the respective backpack and trail assignment. Bob and Randy stood to the right of the tent, overseeing the process and answering any questions.

“Fox Mulder and Dana Scully!” called out one of the women, with her shiny black hair fastened tight into a ponytail.

As Mulder and Scully approached, and were handed their backpacks and GPS unit, Bob and Randy walked over. “Agents Scully and Mulder? From FBI headquarters in D.C.?” asked Randy.

“Yeah, that’s us,” replied Mulder.

Bob and Randy glanced at one another. “We got a special phone call about you two. We don’t usually get agents from the east coast,” said Bob.

“We actually have a special directive for the two of you,” Randy continued. “Seems as though your Deputy Director wanted to make sure we make this experience extra-special for you.”

Scully blinked. Mulder groaned internally.

“It’s not so bad,” Bob laughed. “ As something special, we’re not going to assign you a trail. We’re gonna let you pick any trail you want. In the whole park. We only ask that you wait behind here about an hour, so that the others can get to their assigned paths unnoticed.”

Bob and Randy walked away to lead the group to their designated hiking trails. Mulder and Scully stared after them, and then resignedly sat down at a picnic table inside the tent.

“Just think, Scully,” Mulder said. “We could’ve just had to waste one boring Saturday sitting in a Philadelphia hotel. Now we get to spend an entire weekend getting lost in a forest.”

“I have no intention of getting lost, Mulder.”

“Do you think, if we did, that they’d even come looking for us?”

“I think the Deputy Director is hoping they won’t,” Scully quipped.

After waiting an hour, Bob returned to the tent and told Mulder and Scully they were now free to make their way to the reservoir. He then turned and got into a jeep with Randy and the two women. Mulder and Scully watched them drive off. Scully checked her watch, it was just past noon. She then returned her focus to the map of the state park.

“Hey Mulder, have you ever been canoeing?” asked Scully.

“A couple times when I was younger,” replied Mulder. “My dad and I were Indian Scouts, remember.”

“There are three canoe trails on the map,” Scully continued, pointing out the spot on the map. “The blue trail will move us far ahead of the hiking trails by the end of the day, by many miles. Then we can canoe the blue trail until it meets at a three-way fork with the red and orange canoe trails. It looks like there is a campsite here where we can stop for the night, and get some sleep. Hiking trail C goes right by this spot, and from there it’s only 10 miles on foot to the reservoir. We could get there well ahead of the others.”

“Well, then let’s go, G-woman.”

Mulder and Scully walked in the opposite direction from where they’d watched Bob and Randy lead the rest of the group. They came upon a dock, with upside-down canoes lying on the grass next to it. The state park attendant, who looked no older than 25, stationed at the dock verified that they were with the Team Building Ex group, and let them choose a canoe.

“Good luck,” the young man said. “I’ve never seen nobody from your group canoe before. You sure you know what you’re doing?”

“I think we can manage it,” replied Mulder, as he and Scully each put on a yellow life vest.

Scully pulled out a hat and sunglasses from her backpack. “I guess they really did pack everything you’d need.”

Mulder and Scully flipped over a large green canoe, placing the paddles and their backpacks inside, and carried it to the water’s edge. Once the front end of the canoe hit the shallow water, Mulder held it steady while Scully climbed in and sat down in the front seat. Mulder pushed the canoe a few more paces, and then hopped in the back. They then pushed the canoe out of the shallow water with their paddles.

After canoeing for two hours, they came to a lake. The blue canoe trail picked up again on the other side, so Mulder and Scully started to make their way across. Scully felt completely at peace. The sun was shining, the water was calm, and there was lush greenery everywhere around them.

“Isn’t this beautiful, Mulder?” she asked. Scully was grateful that she was able to experience this with him, when not so long ago she was stricken with the fear that she’d never see him again.

“Mm-hmm,” Mulder agreed, and then paused. “Scully? Do you ever think about quitting the FBI?”

She didn’t exactly know how to answer. “Of course, Mulder. I think everyone imagines quitting their job, or any number of scenarios that would make their life different from what it is. Do _you_ think about quitting the FBI?”

Silence. “I’ve been thinking about it lately. Scully, they’re never going to allow me to go to Africa, if the spaceship is even there. But maybe we should just go anyways. Or there’s got to be another ship somewhere. The FBI is just stifling my efforts in finding one. And the Cancer Man and whoever works for him, maybe they’re behind it. It’s hopeless to think we’ll ever be able to prosecute them. How is that justice? I don’t want to sit around and wait for whispers or unsubstantiated reports. Maybe we could quit the FBI. Go off on our own. Find a ship, track those bastards down.”

Hearing Mulder say all this made Scully nervous. He couldn’t possibly mean it. “Quit the FBI, Mulder? Seriously? Go outside the law? Go rogue? Like Alex Krycek.”

“Come on, Scully. We’re the good guys.”

“Mulder, we’d lose our access, our protection. What justice could we possible achieve that isn’t morally abhorrent? The moment we start acting outside the law, our ‘good guy’ status becomes null and void.”

Mulder didn’t protest, and continued to paddle in silence.

“You know I’m right. Mulder, I know you’re frustrated. It does seem like we’re at a stand-still. We haven’t been able to really move forward since your illness. In many ways.” Scully sighed. Would they ever? _  
_

Mulder stared intently at the back of Scully’s head. After about 40 minutes, they had made their way to the opposite end of the lake and found the large blue sticker posted on a tree near the mouth of a water trail. They continued for several more hours, stopping a couple times by pulling up onto the bank, and snacking on trail mix that was found in their backpacks (“Those guys must think they’re really clever,” Mulder deadpanned) or finding a private area to relieve themselves.

They reached the fork where the blue, red, and orange canoe trails converged just as the sun began to set. About 15 yards from the bank of the water trail, they spotted a campsite clearing with a picnic table and fire pit. Mulder and Scully pulled their canoe up onto the bank, and walked to the campsite.

After setting their backpacks down, Scully removed her hat and sunglasses, setting them on the picnic table, and watched Mulder unpack his bag. Mulder unpacked a tent, sleeping bag, air pump with batteries, folding chair, axe, rope, repair kit, 2 toothbrushes, sunscreen, water jug, and hot dogs. Mulder gave her a confused look. Scully grabbed her backpack, and began removing items. Scully unpacked stakes, poles, sleeping bag, air mattress, hammer, folding chair, first aid kit, matches, toothpaste, another hat and pair of sunglasses, water jug, and marshmallows.

“Wow, they weren’t kidding when they said partners had to stick together,” Scully said, grinning at Mulder. He chuckled in reply.

Mulder and Scully silently worked together to quickly set up their tent before it got too dark to see what they were doing. They then gathered up some firewood, and within 30 minutes had a crackling, hot fire going. They sat in their folding chairs a safe distance from the fire, and roasted hot dogs and marshmallows over the flames.

“This isn’t so bad, is it, Mulder?” Scully asked. She felt perfectly happy sitting there by the fire with him. But she wanted to reach out and hold his hand, and wished that things could finally be different between them.

He smiled. “Not bad at all.”

*****

Once the fire died out, they headed into the tent and slipped into their sleeping bags that were lying on top of the queen-sized air mattress. The temperature had steadily dropped to a chilly 51 degrees, something they hadn’t noticed too much while sitting by the fire. But now they were in their tent, and soon Scully was shivering.

“Scully?” Mulder whispered, as he turned to lie on his right side.

“Hmm?”

“Your teeth are chattering.”

“Sorry, Mulder,” she replied, still chattering.

He sighed. He unzipped his sleeping bag, then reached over towards her and unzipped her bag. “Get over here, Scully.”

Mulder wrapped his right arm around her torso and pulled her towards him, as she scooched over and into his sleeping bag. Scully found herself snuggling against him, breathing in his scent, with her arms folded up against her chest, as he zipped up his bag. She gave a huge sigh of relief at the warmth inside. She then slid herself up a bit, lying on her left side, so that she could be face to face with Mulder.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Hey, that’s what team building is all about,” he smirked, looking into her face.

Scully chuckled.

“Mulder?” she whispered. “Do you really want to quit the FBI?”

“I don’t know what I want, Scully.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, and bent her head down so that she was staring at his chest. She wondered if she should broach the subject of their relationship, if now was the right time, but she found there was something else she needed to talk about. A sense that Mulder was creating distance between them had been gnawing at her. He was so secretive lately. What if he really was going to leave the FBI? Is that what he’d been working on since the 4th of July, what he wouldn’t tell her about? Would he leave her behind? The very idea terrified her.

She raised her face to meet his eyes. Mulder could see that she had taken on a pleading look.

“What is it, Scully?”

She hesitated. “Mulder, what have you been doing all summer? What are you hiding from me?”

He sighed and closed his eyes. “Scully…”

“Mulder, tell me. Please. Don’t leave me out. Don’t go where I can’t follow you.”

He then looked into Scully’s face, and their eyes met. In that moment, a memory of Scully crying beside his hospital bed swam in front of his eyes. Mulder could hear her voice speaking to him, telling him to hold on because of what she’d found; the key she’d found to all the questions they’d ever asked; a puzzle for them to put together. But this memory contained another voice, also Scully’s, fainter and in the background but clear as day. This voice was telling him to hold on because she couldn’t live without him. _“Don’t leave me all alone. Don’t go somewhere I can’t follow.”_ How could he have forgotten that he heard Scully’s thoughts that night?

And Mulder knew, in that moment, that Scully was irrevocably attached to him for the rest of his days. He also knew that she loved him, a love that ran so deep he couldn’t even begin to fathom its depths. But as he looked into her eyes, he was also instantly filled with a sense of despair that he’d never again know the thoughts behind them.

“I’ve been working with the Lone Gunmen,” Mulder finally said. “When we get back to D.C., we’ll go and see them. Everything will be explained. I promise.”

Scully smiled, and then closed her eyes. She snuggled up closer to him, until she laid her head in the crook where his neck met his shoulder. Mulder tucked a strand of her hair away from her face and behind her ear. Soon Scully’s slow, steady breathing meant she was asleep. And as Mulder himself drifted off to sleep, he was comforted to know that, despite the prospect of never again knowing Scully’s mind, she would always surprise him with an unexpected idea, opinion, or emotion. She would always keep him guessing, and maybe that was better.


	11. "I know what you're afraid of. I'm afraid of the same thing."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully reach the reservoir and take a swim.
> 
> This chapter contains some sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coldplay – “What If”
> 
> What if there was no lie  
> Nothing wrong, nothing right  
> What if there was no time  
> And no reason, or rhyme
> 
> What if you should decide  
> That you don't want me there by your side  
> That you don't want me there in your life
> 
> What if I got it wrong  
> And no poem or song  
> Could put right what I got wrong  
> Or make you feel I belong
> 
> What if you should decide  
> That you don't want me there by your side  
> That you don't want me there in your life
> 
> Ooh ooh-ooh, that's right  
> Let's take a breath, jump over the side  
> Ooh ooh-ooh, that's right  
> How can you know it, if you don't even try  
> Ooh ooh-ooh, that's right
> 
> Every step that you take  
> Could be your biggest mistake  
> It could bend or it could break  
> That's the risk that you take
> 
> What if you should decide  
> That you don't want me there in your life  
> That you don't want me there by your side
> 
> Ooh ooh-ooh, that's right  
> Let's take a breath, jump over the side  
> Ooh ooh-ooh, that's right  
> How can you know when you don't even try  
> Ooh ooh-ooh, that's right
> 
> Ooh ooh-ooh, that's right,  
> Let's take a breath, jump over the side  
> Ooh ooh-ooh, that's right,  
> You know that darkness always turns into light  
> Ooh-ooh, that's right

_Scully was running down a hallway and trying to open doors, but they were all locked. She could hear Mulder’s voice ahead. He was behind one of these doors; she just had to find the right one. Finally a door opened and there was Mulder. Suddenly they were in her bed and he was lying on top of her, but she couldn’t remember how this happened. She could feel her clit aching. She heard a knocking sound, and everything was starting to fade. **No, no, no. Just a little longer.** Mulder’s face was above hers. He was stroking her throbbing clit. She hadn’t felt this good in so long. She was going to come, she was so close. But she was slipping away…_

Scully opened her eyes. Dammit. It was still somewhat dark, and the sun was going to rise soon. She could hear a woodpecker in a nearby tree. That was such a good dream, but now she couldn’t remember the details. It was fading from her memory as quickly as sand falling through her fingers. But the tingling sensation remained and she was squirming. There was a warm body behind her, and Mulder’s left arm was holding her tight to him. She suddenly remembered where she was, and why she was there; in a tent, deep in the forest of a Colorado state park, on an FBI teamwork retreat.

She looked at her watch; it was 5:28 am. Mulder was still sleeping. Quietly, and trying to make as little disruptive movement as possible, she loosened his grip on her, turning her body so she was lying on her other side, and looked at him. He looked so peaceful. She wondered if he was dreaming, and if those dreams were happy ones. She hoped they were. Scully started to trace his forehead with the tip of her right forefinger, tracing his eyebrows and his nose, softly brushing his cheek with the backside of her fingers, before tracing his lips.

Her fingers softly traveled down his neck and to his collar bone sticking out from under his navy blue long-sleeved shirt. A fleeting notion of going further down his body entered her mind. _STOP, Dana._ Scully pulled her hand away, and pushed those feelings back. Although she had done her best to ignore and suppress her love for Mulder, now which she could do no longer, any sexual feelings for him had been buried even deeper. He meant everything to her, and to think of him in a sexual context had always seemed too much of a risk. She had forced herself to never think of him that way, out of fear; fear of loss, fear of rejection, fear of change; fear of their partnership being ruined if things didn’t work out, fear of the possibilities if things did.

Mulder opened his eyes. He looked at Scully, blinking himself awake.

“Good morning,” she spoke softly. “Did you sleep well?”

He sighed. “It was the best sleep I’ve had since I can remember… until that damn woodpecker. Where’s my gun, Scully?”

She smirked. “It’s on the floor of the tent next to the mattress, where you put it.”

“I’m gonna shoot that fucking bird.”

“Come on, Mulder. We’ve got to break camp.”

“Scully, no. Let’s stay here all day.” He closed his eyes and pulled her tighter to him.

“No, don’t go back to sleep. We can’t stay here all day because then we won’t be the first ones at the reservoir.”

“Ugh, Scully. Who cares? This whole thing is ridiculous.”

She felt slightly disappointed, and didn’t respond. The prolonged silence caused Mulder to open his eyes again and look at her.

“I didn’t mean being here with you, Scully,” he said kindly. “I mean the whole purpose of this thing. How is hiking and camping supposed to make the two of us work better together?"

“Technically, this kind of retreat isn’t for partners who have been together for as long as we have,” Scully replied. “Everyone else in the group has only been partnered for a year at the most. This isn’t designed for people who know each other as well as we do. But that doesn’t mean this trip hasn’t been beneficial. You finally communicated with me, didn’t you?”

He pursed his lips, and snorted.

She smiled and leaned her face closer to his. Mulder’s features softened. She then lightly brushed the tip of her nose against his. “Come on, let’s get going.”

“But who cares about a trophy, Scully?” he groaned in resistance. “I say we should be the last ones there. Let’s just stay here and enjoy ourselves.”

“Mulder, we have to get to the reservoir before everyone else does,” she said firmly, pulling herself free of his hold, and turned around to unzip the sleeping bag.

“Scully, where is this sudden competitive streak coming from? I’ve never seen this side to you.”

“Beating everyone else is not really what interests me,” she said as she got off the mattress and unzipped the tent. “I just want you to give the first place trophy to the Deputy Director.”

She turned a knowing look on Mulder. He grinned, and then started to move off the mattress to follow her out of the tent.

*****

At 6:16 am the sun had risen, and by 6:30 Mulder and Scully had packed up their camp and made their way to the Hiking Trail C marker just 20 yards north of the campsite. It was 10 miles to the reservoir, which normally would only have taken them just over three hours to hike, but the weather was a warm 84 degrees and the trail contained numerous steep inclines and descents. The trek wasn’t easy, but on occasion they’d come to a meadow awash in wildflowers or a waterfall, which allowed them to take short breaks and refill their water jugs.

They walked at a steady pace, Mulder unwaveringly remaining three to five feet behind Scully. She was telling him stories from her family’s camping trips around Maryland when she was a kid, with Mulder also sharing a few childhood experiences from the YMCA Indian Guides program. He liked being out here with Scully; spending so much time alone with her while not working on a case, not searching for answers and suspects, not fearing for their lives. Just enjoying each other’s company. Maybe he could actually quit the FBI and have a real life.

But what about that spaceship? What about his sister? What about that chip in Scully’s neck? Could he really just walk away without ever learning the answers? But what if he’s always searching and never finding? Could he do this forever? Would Scully even want to? He had been kidding himself thinking he’d ever be able to do this without her. He could no sooner push her out of the X-Files than cut off his left arm. But what to do about her? He wanted her, but he knew he was capable of ignoring that and keeping the status quo between them. Even if it tormented him.

But what did Scully want? Mulder couldn’t picture her up and leaving him, maybe getting married and moving on with her life, even though that might actually be good for her. She’d sacrificed enough for him, and he knew he’d invariably be forcing her to live a lonely life by keeping her by his side. He knew, of course, that it was Scully’s life and she made her own choices. But Scully was loyal and maybe even felt obligated to remain with him no matter what. She’d never abandon him, even if common sense told her she should.

Mulder supposed there was no harm in maintaining their friendship the way it was. He may not be able to have all of her, but he could still keep her in his life. When she brushed her nose against his, he wanted so badly to take her face in his hands and kiss her. Roll her over right there and make love to her in that tent. They had slept next to each other all night, sharing a sleeping bag, but no line had been crossed. No personal space invaded too much. The boundaries between them were clearly defined. Yet there was such intimacy between them, Mulder could feel it in the air.

They were together, but apart; close, but maintaining a constant distance. If they were to bridge that distance, if their dynamic shifted so that they were together in every sense, would it make things better? Or worse? Would he gain so much more? Or would it eventually come between them? Would he lose her? That would be unendurable. Just the thought filled him with dismay.

*****

At 12:48 pm Mulder and Scully, hot and sticky from the 10-mile hike, had reached Golden Creek Reservoir. No one else was there. The blue lake was sparkling and they could see Cheyenne Mountain in the distance. The cool breeze filled the air with a crisp, clean smell. There were several picnic tables scattered about, along with fire pits.

A table about 10 yards to the west contained a large wooden box. Next to it was a clipboard with a sign-in sheet. They set their backpacks down at the table. Mulder then wrote his and Scully’s names down on the first line while Scully opened the box. She pulled out a stapled packet with the top page being a piece of stationary with the Team Builders Ex logo. It looked like a letter, and she noticed Bob and Randy had signed the bottom. Scully handed the paper to Mulder, and continued to examine the box’s contents.

He started to read aloud. “Congratulations on making it to Golden Creek Reservoir. We hope that your experience hiking to this spot was a positive one. We are sure that you discovered the necessity of sticking with your partner as you worked together to survive in the wilderness. You undoubtedly now see the value of the many skills highlighted at the opening keynote address, especially effective communication and practical ways to deal with conflict. You no doubt have a newfound appreciation for all that your partner has to offer, and we hope that your partnership is more harmonious now than what it was before you started this journey together.”

Scully turned her head to face Mulder and their eyes met. He grinned at her and she smiled.

Mulder returned to the letter. “We also hope that your experience at the reservoir further builds upon this foundation as you learn to work together as partners while working within a larger group. This packet contains further directions.”

He then looked up at Scully. “What’s in the box?”

“Several fishing poles, bait and tackle, hunting knives, lighter fluid, frying pans, kettles, and charcoal. What do the directions say?”

Mulder flipped the page. “Upon arriving at the reservoir, you now commence the Rescue Mission section of the wilderness retreat. You must all work together for the whole group to survive until you are rescued. We will not be telling you when that is. It could be anytime Saturday night or even Sunday morning. We hope that you band together as a group, while still striving to work on communication and teamwork with your partners.”

Scully balked. “We’re gonna be stuck here until tomorrow? I wanted to be back at the motel tonight.”

He sighed. She shook her head in disbelief. He then returned to the directions.

“Rule #1: You must all remain together at the reservoir. No separating and going elsewhere. Rule #2: There must be one male agent AND one female agent awake at all times for security.”

Scully sat down in front of the box on the picnic table’s seat. “I was really hoping for a bath, Mulder. I feel disgusting.”

“Well, there’s no one around, Scully,” he replied. “And probably not for a long time. Take a swim in the lake.”

She gave Mulder an apprehensive look. Bathing in the lake and being happened upon by unsuspecting agents is not what she had in mind.

“Scully, no one will be here anytime soon. We’ve arrived hours ahead of everyone thanks to your discovery of the canoe trail on the map.”

She still felt unsure about it.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” Mulder sighed, putting the directions packet back down on the table. “I’ll go for a swim too. I’m sure I stink. We could both use a bath, and clean clothes.”

Scully felt better, at first. But as they walked towards the lake, her stomach filled with butterflies. When they arrived at the water’s edge, they stood in silence, hesitating. She turned her head to look at him and caught his eye. She felt very shy all of a sudden.

“Okay,” Scully said. “If you stay here, I’ll go around the bend just over there to the right so I can bathe and wash my clothes. We won’t be in each other’s sight, but we’ll still be able to hear one another if we need anything.”

Mulder nodded his head in agreement.

She made her way along the water’s edge as it curved to the right and then sharply turned inwards, creating something resembling a wall. She couldn’t see Mulder anymore, but she could hear him taking off his Timberland boots. She heard the unbuckling of his belt. This gave her a comforting feeling to know she wasn’t completely alone out there, especially since she would be undressing. Mulder was just a holler away if she was in trouble. Scully removed her jacket she had tied around her waist, then took off her boots, jeans, and shirt and set them in a pile on the grass. Scully then gave an apprehensive glance around her. No one could be seen, and the only thing she could hear was Mulder suddenly yelping as he went into the water.

“Is it really cold, Mulder?” Scully called out.

“It’s shocking at first, but now it’s not so bad,” he answered. “Thank goodness it’s a hot day.”

Scully removed her bra and underwear, and washed them in the lake water, scrubbing gently with a smooth pebble. She laid them up on the grass to dry next to the pile of her clothes. She then went into the lake, gasping as the cool water enveloped her. But she soon acclimated to the temperature and felt quite comfortable. It felt good to wash the sweat and grime off herself.

“Hey Scully!” Mulder yelled. “Did you know that there are amoebas that reside in lakes that will eat your brain?”

“You mean Naegleria fowleri?” she called back.

“Is that what they’re called? I wouldn’t advise putting your head under the water! I’m not gonna. I’ve had enough brain problems this year.”

“Mulder, this isn’t a warm lake. Don’t worry about it!”

Scully then lowered her head underneath the water, and used her fingers to scrub her scalp and comb through her hair. She began to swim. The water felt so good against her skin. She wondered what Mulder was doing. He had gone quiet. She swam over towards the sharp curve of the shore as noiselessly as possible so she could peak around the edge at him.

He was standing with his back to her, and the water was up to his waist. He was scrubbing his arms, chest, and face, then pouring water over the back of his shoulders. His upper back glistened in the sunshine. _He really is beautiful_ , Scully thought. She wanted to go to him and tell him that she loved him. But Scully was then overcome by a deep sense of sadness, and she wasn’t exactly sure why. She suddenly felt hopeless, as if things between them would be forever at a stand-still. Things would never change.

*****

Scully got out of the water and walked up to her pile of clothes on the grass. Her bra and panties were dry enough. Her hair had gone curly, but there was nothing she could do about it. She got dressed and made her way back over to Mulder. They then returned to their backpacks, and decided to set up their tent near another picnic table and fire pit close by. Once the tent was set up, she inflated the air mattress and put it inside while he took the axe into the woods nearby to collect firewood.

After he returned with kindling and some bigger branches, and arranged them in the fire pit, he noticed Scully yawning.

“It’s been a long day,” he said to her, while checking his watch; it was 2:31 pm. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, I’m starving.”

He grabbed the lighter fluid from the box and the matches from their backpacks, and started a fire. He took out the remaining hot dogs and skewered them, laying them across the fire, and constantly turning them so they cooked evenly. She took their sleeping bags and laid them on top of each other on the grass a few feet from their designated campsite. She kicked off her boots and sat down with her back to the fire. He looked over at her, and saw her wavy red hair gleaming in the sunshine. After they sat on the sleeping bag together eating their hot dogs, she lay down and fell asleep. As Mulder watched Scully sleeping, he felt glad that they’d been sent on this team building retreat. Maybe it wasn’t so ridiculous after all.


	12. “Sometimes looking for extreme possibilities makes you blind to the probable explanation right in front of you.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully complete the Team Building Retreat, and get to know some of their fellow agents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christina Perri – “Human”
> 
> I can hold my breath  
> I can bite my tongue  
> I can stay awake for days  
> If that's what you want  
> Be your number one
> 
> I can fake a smile  
> I can force a laugh  
> I can dance and play the part  
> If that's what you ask  
> Give you all I am
> 
> I can do it  
> I can do it  
> I can do it
> 
> But I'm only human  
> And I bleed when I fall down  
> I'm only human  
> And I crash and I break down  
> Your words in my head, knives in my heart  
> You build me up and then I fall apart  
> 'Cause I'm only human
> 
> I can turn it on  
> Be a good machine  
> I can hold the weight of worlds  
> If that's what you need  
> Be your everything
> 
> I can do it  
> I can do it  
> I'll get through it
> 
> But I'm only human  
> And I bleed when I fall down  
> I'm only human  
> And I crash and I break down  
> Your words in my head, knives in my heart  
> You build me up and then I fall apart  
> 'Cause I'm only human
> 
> I'm only human  
> I'm only human  
> Just a little human
> 
> I can take so much  
> 'Til I've had enough
> 
> 'Cause I'm only human  
> And I bleed when I fall down  
> I'm only human  
> And I crash and I break down  
> Your words in my head, knives in my heart  
> You build me up and then I fall apart  
> 'Cause I'm only human

Over the course of the late afternoon and evening, the remaining FBI agents arrived at the reservoir, warmly greeting Mulder and Scully as they arrived. Most of them also appeared to be none too pleased with the idea of staying out there for another night. One by one, the partners chose a campsite to set up their tents. Everyone agreed upon making a bonfire, and several agents took the fishing poles out to the lake to catch dinner for the group.

Once the bonfire got going, and the agents who went fishing returned with an ample supply of rainbow trout and largemouth bass, the scene took on a real social atmosphere. It was now just after 7:00 pm, and everyone got out their folding chairs and set them down at various spots around the bonfire. Other than Scully, there were only four other female agents in the group. One of the women approached Scully while she was sitting next to Mulder. Scully noticed she was young, probably in her mid-20’s, and very pretty, with smooth light brown skin, shiny dark hair, and almond-shaped eyes.

“Hi, I’m Layla,” she said as she shook Scully’s hand, smiling.

“Dana. Hi,” Scully said returning the smile.

“We’re trying to round up supplies to make s’mores,” said Layla. “And so far we’ve got graham crackers and chocolate bars. So we’re out hunting for marshmallows.”

“Oh, I’ve got some,” Scully said, getting up. She walked over to her and Mulder’s tent a few feet behind them and grabbed the marshmallows from her backpack.

“Thanks,” Layla said as Scully returned. “Would you like to join us? We’re gonna make s’mores for the group.” Layla nodded her head in the direction of the other women sitting at a picnic table about 30 yards behind them.

“Yee haw,” Mulder quipped while sitting in his chair next to them.

Layla gave Scully a puzzled look.

“Ignore him,” Scully said pointedly. “Sure, I’d be happy to join you.”

She turned to walk with Layla.

“Scully, where are you going?” Mulder whined.

“I’m going to hang out with the girls, Mulder,” Scully said, before she smirked and walked toward the group of female agents.

“Great,” Mulder grumbled under his breath.

While Layla and Scully made their way to join the other women, Layla glanced over at her. “Why does he call you Scully?”

“What do you mean? That’s my name.”

Layla hesitated. “Yes, but your name is Dana.”

“Oh, well, yeah… I don’t know. He never calls me that. I’m just Scully.”

Scully then realized that she’s never really asked herself that question. Sure, Mulder hated his first name, but she felt nothing similar in regards to her own. And Mulder had called her Dana on occasion in the past, usually if he was in a weird, emotional mood or if he was making fun of her and “Dana” took on a rather sarcastic edge. While Scully sat at the picnic table with the other female agents, all younger women in their mid-late 20’s, she got to know more about them, including the fact that they all called their partners by their first names.

Special Agent Layla Abbas, whose family emigrated to the United States from Iran back in the 1970’s, had a master’s degree in criminal justice from Temple University. Her and her partner, Agent James McGill, worked counterterrorism at the Oklahoma City field office. Special Agent Erin Ames, a bubbly Californian blonde complete with a perfect tan, had a bachelor’s degree in sociology from the University of San Diego and a master’s degree in psychology from Boston University, and worked with a hostage negotiation unit out of the Omaha field office along with her partner, Agent Frank Wallace.

Special Agent Terra Vassello, an Italian with dark brown eyes and hair, had a master’s degree in forensic science from Pace University, and had worked with the NYPD for a couple years before graduating from the FBI academy the year before. Her and her partner, Agent Henry Steele, worked in the Violent Crimes Unit out of the St. Louis field office. Special Agent Shenelle Block, a woman who looked like she belonged on the cover of a magazine instead of law enforcement, had a PhD in criminology from Florida State. She worked in the Organized Crime Unit at the Chicago field office with her partner, Agent Guy Conley.

Soon the conversation turned to their personal lives, and to Scully’s surprise, these women all had one. Their lives didn’t completely revolve around work or their partners, save perhaps Layla, of whom Scully had a sneaking suspicion that her personal life and her partner’s were one in the same. Scully found she had little to contribute to this part of the conversation. As she sat listening to these young women talk about their hopes for their careers and their lives, that sense of sadness Scully had felt when watching Mulder in the lake grew deeper.

She had been like them once. Fresh out of the academy, and had landed a job teaching forensics at Quantico. She had a social life, she had friends. She was even dating. She had a sex life. Who was that person she used to be? Scully felt like she could barely remember. There was life before Mulder and life after Mulder, and everything before him was starting to become a blur.

Scully, being only 35, was far from old and could still have a life if she wanted one. But Scully wanted a life with Mulder, and it didn’t seem as though that was ever going to be a reality. She felt hopeless. She felt stuck. And doubts were creeping in. Did Mulder  _really_  love her? She had thought that he did, but maybe she was wrong. He had told her so once, but he’d also just been pulled unconscious out of the ocean and was ranting about WW II. If he did, he didn’t love her enough or in the way in which she wanted him to. Was she really so good at hiding her feelings that he had no clue how she felt? Mulder never gave any hint that he thought of her in any capacity other than his partner. His casual flirtations and innuendos were actually defense mechanisms, not to be taken seriously. Did he really feel nothing more for her than friendship? And how long could she wait around hoping that someday he would?

At 7:49 pm the sun set, so Scully and the other women got everything organized for the s’mores and started to head back towards the bonfire. The cleaned fish were spread out on a picnic table closest to the bonfire, waiting to be cooked. There were some agents scattered about, sitting in small groups and talking. Others were down by the lake.

Scully was starting to feel a little chilly, so she turned towards her and Mulder’s tent to get her jacket. Layla decided to walk with her so she didn’t have to walk around the reservoir campground by herself.

“It’s getting dark, after all,” Layla said admonishingly.

“Layla, everyone here is an FBI agent.”

“You can never be too careful.”

Scully chuckled. “Yeah, well, I’m armed.”

“So is everyone else.”

Scully looked at this young woman, who could be no older than 25, and wondered what horrors her family may have escaped from back in Iran. As they got to Scully’s tent, they also were close to where they had left Mulder, and now they saw he was joined by four other agents. They were in the middle of a conversation. Layla grabbed Scully’s arm gently, pulling Scully partially behind the tent, and then put her finger in front of her mouth, motioning her to be quiet, and winked mischievously.

*****

“You two are lucky,” said Agent Robert Babcock, who looked around 30 years old. “You got hot partners. I’m stuck with this ugly mug.”

His partner, Agent Lewis Jackson, laughed.

“The redhead is hot, true,” said another man, Agent Lawrence Stewart.

“Her name is Agent Scully,” Mulder said testily.

“Fine.  _Agent Scully_  is a hot piece of ass,” Agent Stewart retorted. “I love redheads.”

Mulder seethed.

“But I feel sorry for you, man,” Agent Stewart continued. He nodded his head in the direction of Agent McGill, who was sitting to the right of Mulder, in the chair Scully had been sitting in before she left. He had blond hair and blue eyes, and was in his mid-20’s. Mulder thought he looked like the typical All-American boy scout, and had probably been the high school quarterback and prom king.

“Why is that?” Agent McGill asked, eyeing Stewart. Mulder thought he appeared to be bracing himself.

“Because who wants a towelhead for a partner? I mean, who did you piss off to get stuck with an Arab?”

Mulder was shocked at what he just heard. He didn’t like the sudden turn the conversation had taken. He looked at Agent McGill, who stared blankly at Stewart.

“First off, she’s Persian. She’s not an Arab,” Agent McGill said calmly. “Second, talk about her like that again and I’ll break your face.”

Mulder could see redness creeping up McGill’s neck and face. Mulder guessed that McGill’s partnership might be more than strictly professional. The group got quiet and Agent Stewart excused himself, saying he was going to find out if his partner needed help cooking the fish. Agents Jackson and Babcock also found a reason to depart.

“It’s not easy having a beautiful woman as a partner, is it?” Agent McGill said to Mulder.

Mulder sighed. “No, not always.”

“I mean…,” Agent McGill hesitated. “You want to protect her from that locker room garbage; defend her dignity, her respectability. She’s an excellent agent, an amazing person. And at the same time, you don’t want to give her the impression that you’re her champion, like you don’t believe she can take care of herself. But I can’t stand the shit people say about her. Or about us. It’s so frustrating sometimes.”

Mulder chuckled. “I know what you mean. But do you believe that she’s the right partner for you? Or do you think you’d be better off working with someone else?”

Agent McGill stared at Mulder. “She’s my perfect match. I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”

Mulder smiled. “Well, then fuck everyone else. Fuck what they say and fuck what they think.”

“So how long have you and Agent Scully been working together?”

“Six years.”

“Are you married? Do you have any kids?” Agent McGill asked.

“No. Why?”

“I was just wondering how this job will affect my life,” Agent McGill answered. “I’d like to get married, have some kids. But the job can be dangerous, and it’s a serious thing to consider when you think about your loved ones. Plus the workload is outrageous. No wonder agents just end up getting involved with people at work. It must be hard to sustain a relationship, right?”

“Hmm… well, I’ve really only had one relationship since joining the FBI,” Mulder replied. “She ended up becoming an FBI agent too. But she left almost eight years ago.”

“You haven’t had a girlfriend in eight years?” McGill asked, looking appalled. “Wow. I think I’d go crazy. So where is she now?”

Mulder sighed. “She’s dead.”

McGill swallowed. “Oh, man. I’m sorry. What was her name?"

“Diana,” Mulder replied.

“So why eight years?” Agent McGill asked tentatively.

Mulder slowly shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess at first I just threw myself into work to forget about her. I was alone before her, and it proved to be not too difficult to resume being alone after her.”

Agent McGill thought about that for a minute. “Yeah, but… eight years. Do you ever think about getting married? Having kids?”

“Honestly, marriage has never interested me,” Mulder replied. “I’m sure that stems from my parents. And the only woman who I ever imagined having children with…” Mulder sighed. “Well, that’s impossible.”

“Right…,” Agent McGill replied.

Mulder thought this conversation was turning depressing. He didn’t want to think about Scully being barren. Or Scully getting cancer, or literally anything about Diana, or any number of the awful things that have occurred over the years. He wondered where Scully was and why she’d been gone so long. But then he supposed it was probably nice for her to have some female company. He wondered what Scully would be talking about with those other women. She probably hasn’t had much of that kind of thing since her sister was killed. Great, let’s just add Melissa’s murder to the list on this shitty walk down memory lane while we’re at it.

“What about Agent Scully?”

“What?” Mulder asked, startled out of his reverie.

“Is Agent Scully married?”

“Oh, no,” Mulder replied.

“Have you two… ever… you know,” Agent McGill asked tentatively.

“No, never.”

“Wow, really? In six years?” Agent McGill looked shocked.

“That’s probably why we’ve stayed together for six years,” Mulder deadpanned.

“Never say never,” replied Agent McGill. “It’s been eight years. Live a little.”

Mulder sighed. He wished Scully would hurry up and get back there.

Agent McGill didn’t really know what else to say. “Well, it was nice talking with you. I think I’m gonna go find Layla.”

He then stood up, and after shaking Mulder’s hand, he walked off to the other side of the bonfire in search of his partner. Mulder rolled his eyes.

*****

Scully and Layla were still standing next to the tent, a few feet behind where Mulder was sitting. Scully watched Agent McGill walk away in the opposite direction. Layla was watching Scully’s face.

“Are you okay, Dana?” Layla whispered.

Scully didn’t say anything. She was fighting back tears.

“Was what Agent Mulder said true? You’ve never… or have you?” Layla seemed to be confused over what would’ve made Scully so upset.

“Yes, he told the truth. We’ve never,” Scully replied.

Layla watched Scully stare at the back of Mulder’s head. “There’s nothing more agonizing than being in love, is there? And six years is a long time to be in agony.”

Scully turned a surprised look on Layla. Layla then gave Scully’s shoulder a gentle squeeze and went to find her partner.

Scully’s emotions were getting the better of her and she had to check them. But it was proving difficult. Was Mulder not over Diana? Is she the reason they can never move forward? He was hung up on her when she left, and now with her death, he’s still hung up. Of course he'dl never be a father because Diana is dead. All these years, he’s just been thinking about her? Gibson Praise even called out the fact that Mulder was thinking about Diana. It seemed so obvious now; the real reason things between them would be forever at a stand-still. How could she have ignored the most probable explanation? She's a scientist, for chrissake.

This was the wedge between them, Scully thought. Mulder really had caused this distance – over Diana. Even with her death, the wedge couldn’t be removed because Mulder was keeping it there. Could he really be clinging to his relationship with Diana? When what they have is so much more. It’s based on truth, for one thing. Scully may not have any real proof, but she's positive she was working with the Smoking Man. Their partnership was built on trust and respect. Was what he had with Diana even real? Mulder was a perfect fool.

*****

As it got darker, everyone made their way over to sit in a circle around the bonfire. They ate grilled fish and made s’mores. Most everyone was enjoying themselves. Mulder was surprised, and a little disappointed, that when Scully returned she took a seat clear across from him on the other side of the bonfire. Did something happen? Maybe Scully’s conversations with other agents were just as invasive and uncomfortable as the ones he’d had. Mulder thought that Scully was clearly avoiding his gaze.

As Mulder watched Scully through the flickers sparking up from the bonfire, he thought that today had been one of the best days he’d ever had in his life. Waking up with Scully lying next to him, hiking with her, hearing her tell stories about her childhood, bathing together (sort of), watching her take a nap on the grass, seeing her smile and laugh; just the way she looked at him. It had all been like a dream. Except there was no danger. No Cancer Man to rip her away from him. And Mulder thought that Scully had never looked more beautiful; no makeup, red hair in a wavy mess, freckles popping out all over her face. She was gorgeous.

*****

It was 11:21 pm on Saturday night, and there was no sign of Bob and Randy or any “rescue.” Scully could barely keep her eyes open, and she was falling asleep in the folding chair. She felt someone grab her hand, and opened her eyes to see Mulder kneeling in front of her.

“Come on, let’s go get some sleep,” Mulder said.

Scully yawned. “Okay.”

After getting inside their tent, Scully got into her own sleeping bag, zipped it up, and turned so her back was to Mulder. Mulder seemed to be clued in to her mood because he didn’t try to make conversation. But she did notice a strange look on his face as she was getting into her sleeping bag. Did he think they were going to share again? She had to put a stop to things like that. It only gets her hopes up when it meant nothing to Mulder. He didn't care for her that way, and she needed to stop hoping he would. He never would. _So get over it, Dana. Forget it._

*****

By 8:30 am on Sunday, everyone was packed up and awaiting their rescue. At 9:00 am sharp, Bob and Randy landed with a large black helicopter on a clearing about 100 yards from the reservoir camping area. The group boarded and by 11:00 am they had arrived back at the River Dance Wilderness Lodge. Bob and Randy gave a brief closing lecture and handed out the trophies to the first three partnerships to reach the reservoir. Scully was glad that they were all allowed to use rooms afterwards to shower and get cleaned up before leaving.

Mulder and Scully hopped into their rental car and made their way to the airport to catch their 3:10 pm flight back to D.C. They hadn’t talked much at all that day. Mulder appeared to be confused by Scully’s silence, but she didn’t feel motivated to keep up an appearance that everything was fine, even though she told Mulder she was fine several times. He didn’t believe her, of course. While Scully sat quietly on the plane next to Mulder, she kept thinking about something Layla had said to her before they left the Wilderness Lodge earlier.

_“I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of the Great Iran Flood,” Layla said to Scully as they said their goodbyes in the parking lot while Mulder was loading bags into the rental car. “It was in 1954, before I was born. But my father was 12 years old at the time and he’s told me the story many times. During the flood, there was a young girl who got her foot stuck in the street. Maybe in the mud, or a grate. I don’t know. The water kept rising, but she couldn’t get free. Many people came to help, but they couldn’t get her foot unstuck. The water kept rising and rising. She drowned.”_

_“That’s terrible,” Scully replied._

_“Yes, it was. But that never would’ve happened to me. Do you know why?”  
_

_Scully shook her head and gave a slight shrug to her shoulders.  
_

_“Because I would’ve said ‘Cut it off! Now!’ Sometimes we have to cut something off, no matter how much it hurts, in order to survive, to move on.”_

_Layla gave Scully a pointed look, then said goodbye and crossed the parking lot to join Agent McGill._

As Scully sat in her seat on that flight back home, she wondered if she was going to have to eventually cut something, or someone, off.


	13. “You can kill a man but you can't kill what he stands for. Not unless you first break his spirit. That's a beautiful thing to see.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Further musings of the Cigarette-Smoking Man.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from the episode "One Son" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Undisputed Truth – “Smiling Faces Sometimes”
> 
> Smiling faces sometimes pretend to be your friend  
> Smiling faces show no traces of the evil that lurks within  
> Smiling faces, smiling faces sometimes  
> They don't tell the truth  
> Smiling faces, smiling faces  
> Tell lies and I got proof
> 
> The truth is in the eyes  
> Cause the eyes don't lie  
> Remember a smile is just  
> A frown turned upside down  
> My friend let me tell you
> 
> Smiling faces, smiling faces sometimes  
> They don't tell the truth  
> Smiling faces, smiling faces  
> Tell lies and I got proof
> 
> Beware, beware of the handshake  
> That hides the snake  
> I'm telling you beware  
> Beware of the pat on the back  
> It just might hold you back  
> Jealousy, misery, envy
> 
> I tell you, you can't see behind smiling faces  
> Smiling faces sometimes they don't tell the truth  
> Smiling faces, smiling faces  
> Tell lies and I got proof  
> Smiling faces, smiling faces sometimes  
> They don't tell the truth  
> Smiling faces, smiling faces  
> Tell lies and I got proof  
> Smiling faces, smiling faces sometimes 
> 
> I'm telling you beware, beware of the handshake  
> That hides the snake  
> Listen to me now, beware  
> Beware of that pat on the back  
> It just might hold you back
> 
> Smiling faces, smiling faces sometimes  
> They don't tell the truth  
> Smiling faces, smiling faces  
> Tell lies and I got proof
> 
> Your enemy won't do you no harm  
> Cause you'll know where he's coming from  
> Don't let the handshake and the smile fool ya  
> Take my advice I'm only tryin' to school ya

September 1998

He sat at his desk in his dimly lit office and pulled a cigarette from his packet of Morleys. There was a knock at the door and he watched her enter, taking a seat in front of his desk.

“Thank you for coming at this late hour,” he said to her.

“It was no problem,” she replied.

He lit his cigarette, took a puff, and leaned back in his chair, relaxing his posture.

“So how are the tests on the boy going?” he asked her.

“Gibson performs the tests regularly,” she said. “His brain function is remarkable. He’s a genetic anomaly. If only we could re-create him somehow. If only the MUFON pregnancies had been successful.”

“Yes, if only,” he said, dragging another puff from his cigarette. “And the boy’s parents?”

“They haven’t said a word since receiving the money,” she answered. “I don’t think they’ll be a problem. Gibson’s surgery is scheduled for this week. Hopefully we’ll then learn even more.”

He nodded. “Good. I didn’t actually call you down here to talk about the boy. I’ve just returned from Tunisia. Strughold seems to be at a loss with what to do about Mulder.”

She said nothing, and waited for him to continue.

“In fact, we all are,” he said. “We’ve gotten word that the X-Files have been re-opened. Horrible timing after everything Mulder’s just seen. He has no more doubts now. He’s more determined than ever to expose us.”

She sighed and crossed her arms. “What are you thinking of doing?”

He eyed her momentarily. “Scully is the key. Mulder’s obsession is the X-Files, true. They were all he thought about and the only reason behind everything he did, at first. But that’s all changed now. Mulder’s world would completely fall apart without Scully, even if he’s blind to the fact.”

She pursed her lips. “Well, then you have to separate them to neutralize Mulder.”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. Separating them doesn’t work. We’ve tried it, more than once. We even sent her to Antarctica, for God's sake, and he went down there and brought her back. Maybe he’s not as blind as I thought… He’s dangerous with her, and even more dangerous without her. He becomes a man who has nothing left to live for. He becomes reckless, he’ll stop at nothing. At one time I thought that was a perfect scenario to enable him to come work with us, but I was proved wrong.”

“So what can be done?” she asked.

He stubbed out his cigarette and left the butt in the ashtray. “No outside force can come between them. I’ve tried everything short of murder. And I have no intentions of killing Mulder, or Scully. They can be useful when necessary. The only thing that can come between them is themselves. If they separated of their own accord, well now, that’s different. Isn’t it?”

She stared at him while he pulled another cigarette from his Morley pack.

He lighted it and took a puff. “Mulder will never leave Scully. He’s too dependent on her. He has no one else, nor will he ever. And he knows it. But like I said, Scully is the key. In many ways, she’s a much stronger person than he is. She may not want to live without Mulder, but she’s certainly capable. But if she’s to leave Mulder of her own volition, she will need a good reason. A personal one.”

He eyed her across his desk. “I know I can count on you, Diana.”

She nodded. “How would you like me to proceed?” Diana asked.

He took a drag from his cigarette. “I can’t prevent the X-Files from being re-opened, but I’ve arranged things so that Jeffrey is in a position to take control. He’ll be needing a partner.”

*****

February 1999

The rebels were a serious problem. He knew what he had to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t terminate the mother of his child. The group might as well accept the inevitable and allow it to begin. They were all going to be meeting at El Rico Air Force Base later that night. The future was here.

His office phone rang. “Yes?” he answered, while taking his pack of Morleys out from his inside suit pocket.

“Mulder and Scully were just at the Lone Gunman office. I think their conversation will interest you.”

“Go ahead,” he replied.

The sound of a tape recorder button could be heard and soon the office was filled with Scully’s voice.

_“I'll ask you to hear me out before you launch any objection. Mulder, I asked them to pull up everything they could on Diana Fowley.”_

_“I don't have time for this.”_

_“Mulder, she's playing you for a fool.”_

_“I know her, Scully. You don't.”_

_“You knew her. You don't anymore. I think we can prove that to you.”_

_“She took a position in the FBI's foreign counter-terrorism unit in 1991,” said Byers. “Seven years in Europe.”_

_“Yet there isn't a single piece of information available on her activities in the FBI files,” added Scully._

_“I hope you've got something more than that to indict her with.”_

_“Travel records pulled from airline manifests that had been purged from her FBI records. Extensive movement throughout Western Europe. Almost weekly trips to and from Tunisia.”_

_"For the purpose of what?” Mulder asked._

_“That's what we couldn't figure until we took a flyer and we found this,” Langly replied._

_“Mutual UFO network logs,” Frohike added._

_“MUFON,” said Mulder._

_“Special Agent Diana Fowley of the FBI was visiting every European chapter collecting data on female abductees,” continued Scully._

_“So she's collecting data. Big deal.”_

_“Or hiding it.”_

_“Scully, you're reaching.”_

_"Mulder, when I was abducted a chip was put in my neck. When I happened upon a MUFON group filled with women who'd had the same experience.”_

_“So you're suggesting that Diana is monitoring these abductees? Monitoring these tests?”_

_“You tell me that Cassandra Spender is the critical test subject – the one who could prove everything. And yet, who is watching over her? Mulder, I can prove what you're saying or I can disprove it but not when Diana Fowley is keeping us from even seeing her. Mulder, ask yourself why there is no information whatsoever on Special Agent Diana Fowley. Why she would suddenly happen into your life when you are closer than ever to the truth. I mean, you... you ask me to trust no one and yet you trust her on simple faith.”_

_“Because you've given me no reason here to do otherwise.”_

_“Well, then I can't help you anymore.”_

_“Scully, you're making this personal.”_

_“Because it is personal, Mulder. Because without the FBI, personal interest is all that I have. And if you take that away, then there is no reason for me to continue.”_

The recording stopped. “That’s it,” said the man on the line.

“Thank you,” he replied, taking a drag from his cigarette, and hung up the phone. _Well, this is certainly interesting_ , he thought. _Diana has done better than I’d hoped._

He decided to go and see her, and left the office to head for the Watergate Apartments.

*****

Three days later.

It had all gone to hell. He was once again sitting at his desk in his office, wondering where to go from here. It wasn’t the first time he had been unsure, and it probably wasn’t going to be the last. Diana walked in and sat across from him. 

“I’m sorry about Jeffrey,” she said.

“So am I,” he replied, pulling out a cigarette. “I take it you’ve been informed of your reassignment now that Mulder and Scully have reclaimed the X-Files.”

“Yes, counterintelligence.” 

“Good,” he replied. 

Diana sighed.

“Nice work with the Scully situation, by the way,” he said.

She gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean? I don’t think I was all that successful. They’re still together.”

“But now there are splinters, cracks in the foundation. And cracks can grow bigger if left unaddressed, especially the way those two fail to communicate.”

Diana furrowed her brows. “But who knows how long that could take?”

He took a long drag from his cigarette. “Well, that all depends on how big of a fool Mulder is when it comes to matters of the heart.”

Diana looked uncomfortable. He knew she was loyal to him, but he also knew she harbored a soft spot for Mulder. That could be useful too. He pulled out a tape recorder from the bottom of his desk, and pressed play.

_“They’re all dead, Mulder. Cassandra is dead. We couldn’t save her.”_

_“She wasn't at the train yard. Spender was probably misled, Scully. Unless we were just too late. They took her with them to El Rico Air Base.”_

_“Mulder? When you called me earlier, you said you were with Diana. And that you were coming to take me with you. Where were you going to take me?”_

There was a long pause in the recording. He looked across his desk at Diana, and their eyes met.

_“Mulder?”_

_“We were going to the air base.”_

_“For the purpose of?”_

_“Scully… the Smoking Man. C.G.B. Spender… he said it was a way we could save ourselves. There was nothing to be done. Nothing I could do to stop it.”_

_“And you believed him.”_ It wasn’t a question.

_“Scully…”_

_“I don’t believe this, Mulder. You sided with **him** , of all people. You just gave up. Everything you’ve been working for. **We’ve** been working for. And you thought that I would be willing to go with you, and Diana Fowley. To become a co-conspirator with those people and save myself at the expense of mankind. Is that it?” _

_“Scully…”_

_“I don’t know what sickens me more, Mulder. The fact that you would make such a decision for yourself, or the fact that you thought I’d be willing to go along with it.”_

Another long pause.

_“You betrayed me. You betrayed yourself.”_

_“I’m not going to make excuses, Scully. But it was only a momentary decision. And then you gave me a reason not to give up. To keep fighting.”_

_“And how do I know that you won’t give up again? Especially if you continue to allow your judgment to be clouded where Diana Fowley is concerned.”_

_“Scully, I have yet to see proof that she is actually guilty of anything.”_

_“You’ve got to be kidding me.”_

Another long pause. A ringing cell phone could be heard on the tape.

 _“Scully... Okay, sir. We’ll be there.”_ A snapping sound can be heard. _“Kersh wants to meet with us in the morning.”_

 _“Great.”_

He pushed the stop button on the tape recorder, and took a long puff from his cigarette. “Cracks, Diana. Cracks in the foundation.”


	14. “Maybe you two should have discussed your real feelings before you came out here.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully arrive home from Colorado and consider their situations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Band of Horses – “No One’s Gonna Love You”
> 
> It's looking like a limb torn off  
> Or altogether just taken apart  
> We're reeling through an endless fall  
> We are the ever-living ghost of what once was
> 
> But no one is ever gonna love you more than I do  
> No one's gonna love you more than I do
> 
> And anything to make you smile  
> It is my better side for you to admire  
> But they should never take so long  
> Just to be over then back to another one
> 
> But no one is ever gonna love you more than I do  
> No one's gonna love you more than I do
> 
> But someone  
> They could have warned you  
> When things start splitting at the seams and now  
> The whole thing's tumbling down  
> Things start splitting at the seams and now  
> If things start splitting at the seams and now,  
> It's tumbling down  
> Hard
> 
> Anything to make you smile  
> You are the ever-living ghost of what once was  
> I never want to hear you say  
> That you'd be better off  
> Or you liked it that way
> 
> But no one is ever gonna love you more than I do  
> No one's gonna love you more than I do
> 
> But someone  
> They should have warned you  
> When things start splitting at the seams and now  
> The whole thing's tumbling down  
> Things start splitting at the seams and now  
> If things start splitting at the seams and now,  
> It's tumbling down  
> Hard

On Sunday evening, August 22nd, Mulder walked through the door to his apartment, dropping his bags in the living room, and collapsed on the couch. The weekend in Colorado had ended up being an emotional rollercoaster. He now felt closer to Scully than he was before the trip, but simultaneously felt like they were more apart than ever. Typical. They hadn’t really talked the whole flight back home, and their goodbye at the airport was very brief.

Something had to have happened that last night of the retreat, but Mulder couldn’t possibly begin to guess what that could have been. Did someone make an asinine comment? Did someone mistreat her in some way? But, if so, why wouldn’t she have told him? Scully seemed… hurt. There was no other way he could describe her demeanor.

He’d only been away from Scully for over an hour, and he missed her already. He watched an old black and white movie on the TV, but soon lost interest. He grabbed his phone from the desk and set it on the coffee table. Mulder thought about calling Scully, but changed his mind. He then momentarily thought about actually going to bed, but he hated the idea of being in there alone. So he shut off all the lights and stayed on the couch. As he lay there, he missed her even more. He missed her in a way he never would’ve thought possible just three days ago. He missed falling asleep next to her, and he knew, come morning, he’d be greeted with the disappointment that he wasn’t waking up next to her.

Maybe that retreat was a huge mistake, and they never should’ve gone. It only made him more keenly aware of how empty his life was in Scully’s absence. If only she was there with him. The things he would do to her. The things he would say. In the safety of his imagination, he had all the courage in the world and there were no negative consequences. He could hold her, and kiss her, and touch her. She actually wanted him to. And there was no harm done, no price to pay.

However, Mulder knew that reality was much different. There could be a lot of harm done, and a huge price to pay. But even if there wasn’t, did she even want a physical relationship with him? His flirtations were always greeted with eye rolling or blank stares. Maybe she wasn’t attracted to him. Maybe it was asking too much for someone like Scully (intelligent, beautiful; the best person he’d ever known), to not only respect him and consider him worthy of her friendship, but to view him as a sexual prospect. To think of him as a man capable of pleasing her. Maybe in her mind, he’s just this lovable geek of a friend whose only joy in life is chasing aliens and government conspiracies. He inwardly balked at the thought. No, that couldn’t be right.

Mulder closed his eyes, grasping at the memory of Scully beside his hospital bed just over two months ago. He could hear her thoughts, sense her overwhelming emotions. He knew there was deep love there. She didn’t trivialize his existence. He knew the profound importance she had put upon his place in her life. But in no way did he sense any sexual undertones in her thoughts about him. Of course, at that moment, she had feared for his life. What he would give just to read her mind once more.

But none of this was helping him reconcile her behavior towards him since last night. He felt like their walls had been starting to come down and a different kind of intimacy emerging. Then suddenly, without warning or any cause that he could determine, she seemed to be shutting him out again. But maybe this was a good thing. Maybe she’d be better off without him. He knew she’d be safer, maybe even happier. But what if they stayed together and he could make her happy? Their relationship could be better; not so apart, not so lonely. They could be closer. But what experience did he have with making romantic relationships work? Every relationship he’d been in, and not that there’d been many, had ended up a complete disaster. Sure the women he’d been with weren’t all that good for him on a basic human level, but he’d made almost no effort to make things work. What did he really know about being a good partner in that sense? What if Scully left him like the others?

He started to feel the same sort of panic that he felt when he’d heard her screaming for him on his answering machine, when she was in a coma and her family was going to pull the plug, when Donnie Pfaster had taken her, when he saw her screaming face in Gerry Schnauz’s photo, when she had been missing from her hospital room and he’d found her journal written to him like a goodbye, when that damn bee stung her, when he found her encased in ice on that ship, when he found her lying on his apartment floor unconscious and covered in blood.

Mulder suddenly didn’t know which was worse: the idea of losing her, or the idea of never having her in the way that he wanted. Something had to give. A decision needed to be made. He couldn’t keep silent forever, keep putting off the inevitable. But, then again, what was wrong with keeping things the same? They’d survived this long without things getting messy and complicated. Scully was his partner, his dearest friend; his only friend. Was it worth the risk? But was there anyone else out there more perfect for him than her? Definitely not. He thought that his subconscious of several months ago, that seemingly preferred a life in suburbia with Diana over anything with Scully, was a fucking idiot. If he did find the courage to declare himself, to tell her what he wanted and how he felt, would she be accepting? Or would she rebuff his attempts to take their partnership into new territory? Or worse, would she not take him seriously and laugh at him? He once again felt stuck between that rock and hard place.

Mulder lay awake in the dark. His brain wouldn’t shut down. He wished Scully was there. As he finally started to drift off to sleep, his phone started ringing. He checked his watch; it was 12:47 am.

*****

Scully arrived home on Sunday evening absolutely exhausted. The tears that she’d been fighting back the whole return flight to D.C. from Colorado couldn’t be held back anymore. After setting her weekender bag in the bedroom, she got into a steaming hot shower and cried until she couldn’t cry anymore. She’d never felt more lost in her life. She didn’t know what to do with herself, with her career, with Mulder.

Should she cut and run? Should she stay and hope that Mulder would eventually get over whatever he needed to get over in order for them to move on? She thought she wanted a life with him, but what if she eventually did get one, and then things didn’t work out? That was the reason she put walls up. That was the reason she was forever keeping people at a distance. The reason why she’d never had a relationship that lasted longer than a year. The reason why as soon as she felt herself getting too attached, or if the guy was starting to make it clear he wanted lifelong commitment, she ran.

Was there anything scarier than love? Than giving another human being complete power to destroy you? Was there anything more painful than loving someone? And then losing that someone? She’d been afraid of death, of the pain that comes when someone you love more than anything is ripped from your life. If she never loved, then she wouldn’t have to experience this. For years, she fought to avoid that pain wherever possible. She always had an exit strategy for when relationships became too serious. She had found a way to surrender her body and engage her mind, but still keep her heart locked up tight. No one was getting in there. Before Mulder only one man had really come close, and she had even considered the possibility. But she still ran away from him; ran in the opposite direction to the FBI.

But somewhere along the line, where or when she had no idea, she had fallen in love with Mulder. By the time she had fully realized this, and could no longer ignore it or pretend otherwise, it was too late. And now she knew this pain, this pain she’d been running from. Now just looking at him broke her heart. She wanted to touch him, to feel his arms around her, to feel his lips on hers; she wanted the ecstasy of his skin on her skin, the weight of his body on top of hers. But that just hurt.

Scully sat on her couch wishing they’d never gone on that retreat. She wished they’d never shared a sleeping bag, wished she’d never spent a night with him holding her close to him, wished she’d never woken up next to him. God, that sleeping bag. The sleeping bag was going haunt her forever. The feeling of Mulder grabbing her and pulling her across the mattress towards him; the feeling of being snuggled up tight against his firm body, feeling his warmth; seeing the look on his face as their eyes met. Had there ever been a more perfect opportunity for their partnership to evolve?

But overhearing him talking with Agent McGill helped her to finally understand why Mulder never acted when she thought he would. He hadn’t had a relationship since Diana left, and he didn’t seem like he wanted another one. He had actually imagined having children, but Diana was dead. It was impossible for him to be a father. The pain was more unbearable now than ever before. And if she didn’t find a way to erect the fortress around her heart again, she didn’t know how much longer she could cope with the pain.

As she got ready for bed, Dana Scully was going into self-preservation mode. Usually this meant making plans to run away and start over. But she knew she couldn’t leave Mulder. She couldn’t just cut and run. It wouldn’t be fair to him. The thought of hurting him wasn’t even a consideration. She had to find another way to deal with this. She had to accept the fact that although she was his closest friend, and he loved her dearly, he did not want her. That had to be good enough. It must be. She had to admit that she’d rather have Mulder just the way he is, with just the way things are, than not have him at all.

Scully walked through her living room and noticed she had two messages blinking on her machine. She pressed play.

“Hi Dana, it’s Tara. Listen, Jennifer told me what Bill did. I can’t believe he told that police officer to ask you out. I’m so sorry, honey. Bill got an earful from me, let me tell you. He shouldn’t be sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. Anyways, the twins are kicking like crazy! Maggie said you went to Colorado. Hopefully we can talk when you get back. Love you.”

She thought about calling her back. It was only 8:00 pm in San Diego. But she didn’t feel like talking. She’d call her in a couple days.

“Dana, it’s Mom. I hope you had a wonderful weekend in Colorado. It’s beautiful out there. Father McCue came over for lunch after Mass today. He was asking about you, wondering why he hadn’t seen you all summer. Would you like to come over this Sunday? I was thinking of asking Charlie and Jennifer too. We could all go to church together. I know Father McCue would love to see you. Give me a call when you get home.”

She sighed. How could she ever explain to her mother? How could she explain to Father McCue, for that matter? Scully started to feel the tears well up again. What did she believe anymore? She didn’t even know. She hadn’t been able to come up with any justification for what she saw in Africa, no real explanation. How could she reconcile what she saw with her faith? Did she have faith anymore? Faith in what, exactly? God? She needed to talk about it. But she couldn’t tell her mother. And she couldn’t see herself telling Father McCue. What an uncomfortable conversation that would be.

She eventually made her way to bed, but she couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned, a million thoughts racing through her head. She needed to talk to someone. And it dawned on her, not for the first time or the last, that only one human being on the entire planet understood her. Only one person truly knew her, knew her better than anyone else did. Because she’d actually allowed this person to know her; to know her on such a level that she’d never allowed anyone else to.

She reached over to her bedside table and picked up the phone.

*****

He grabbed his phone. “Hello?”

“Mulder, what if God is just another word for alien? How am I supposed to tell my mother that?”

He sat upright on his couch. He hadn’t been expecting Scully to call him, especially since she had barely spoken ten words to him earlier that day. “Do you have to tell her something like that?”

“I don’t know. Shouldn’t I tell her the truth?”

“What is the truth, Scully?”

“Mulder, I haven’t gone to church once since I got back from Africa. I know my mother is concerned, and now Father McCue is asking after me. What do I say to them? I don’t know if I can ever set foot in church again.”

“I… I don’t know, Scully.” _I’ve never been a churchgoer, so I haven’t got a clue how to deal with that,_ he thought.

She sighed. “Mulder? What if everything I ever believed is a lie? All of it.”

He'd been there. “You don’t know that, Scully. Who’s to say it’s all a lie? The answers are out there. We have to hope that we’ll find them someday.”

“I’m angry, Mulder. What if I put my faith in something that doesn’t exist; in something that is nothing more than a deception created by humans to explain mortality, to incite wars, to pretend that this life isn’t all there is, to hide the truth?”

“But who’s to say God doesn’t exist?”

“But that spaceship, Mulder. Why would scripture and human DNA code be engraved upon it?”

“Well, what if the aliens believe in God?” He was shocked at what he just said, and he certainly hadn’t planned on saying it. But now that he had said it, it kind of made sense to him. In some weird way.

She sighed. What in the world? “Mulder, come on. You’ve always been skeptical about God. Now you’re supposing the aliens are believers?”

“Scully, what about Albert Hosteen?”

There was a long pause. She hadn’t figured out how to explain that yet. “I can’t say for sure that really happened, Mulder.”

“Scully, don’t second-guess yourself. Think of the emptiness you felt in Africa, and the hopelessness you felt when you returned.”

She hesitated. She couldn’t remember ever talking about that with him. She thought she had kept that to herself.

“Now think of how you felt when Albert Hosteen held your hands and prayed with you.”

She swallowed. She could remember how hope blossomed in her heart as Albert knelt on the floor with her. Her throat was constricting and she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes again.

“Scully, if Albert Hosteen had been in a coma in New Mexico that entire time, who was in your apartment? Who prayed with you?”

Tears were now steadily flowing down her face.

“You have to make some sort of peace with what you saw in Africa, Scully. But don’t count out God.”

She sniffled, and grabbed a tissue from the box on the bedside table and wiped her eyes.

“Do you want me to come over, Scully?” Please say ‘yes.’ Wait. No, no, no. Bad idea. What was he thinking?

She paused. Yes. Yes, please come over. Come over and make her forget about God and aliens and spaceships and church. Come over and make her feel better. “No, that’s okay, Mulder. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay, Scully. See you in the office.” He hung up the phone.

Mulder and Scully finally drifted off to sleep, both of them wishing they weren’t sleeping alone.


	15. “In my book I'd written that Agent Scully falls in love, but that's obviously impossible. Agent Scully is already in love.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kresge returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Passenger – “Let Her Go”
> 
> Well you only need the light when it's burning low  
> Only miss the sun when it starts to snow  
> Only know you love her when you let her go
> 
> Only know you've been high when you're feeling low  
> Only hate the road when you’re missin' home  
> Only know you love her when you let her go  
> And you let her go
> 
> Staring at the bottom of your glass  
> Hoping one day you'll make a dream last  
> But dreams come slow and they go so fast
> 
> You see her when you close your eyes  
> Maybe one day you'll understand why  
> Everything you touch surely dies
> 
> But you only need the light when it's burning low  
> Only miss the sun when it starts to snow  
> Only know you love her when you let her go
> 
> Only know you've been high when you're feeling low  
> Only hate the road when you're missin' home  
> Only know you love her when you let her go
> 
> Staring at the ceiling in the dark  
> Same old empty feeling in your heart  
> 'Cause love comes slow and it goes so fast
> 
> Well you see her when you fall asleep  
> But never to touch and never to keep  
> 'Cause you loved her too much  
> And you dived too deep
> 
> Well you only need the light when it's burning low  
> Only miss the sun when it starts to snow  
> Only know you love her when you let her go
> 
> Only know you've been high when you're feeling low  
> Only hate the road when you're missin' home  
> Only know you love her when you let her go
> 
> And you let her go (oh, oh, ooh, oh no)  
> And you let her go (oh, oh, ooh, oh no)  
> Will you let her go?
> 
> 'Cause you only need the light when it's burning low  
> Only miss the sun when it starts to snow  
> Only know you love her when you let her go
> 
> Only know you've been high when you're feeling low  
> Only hate the road when you're missin' home  
> Only know you love her when you let her go
> 
> And you let her go

On Friday, August 27th, Mulder and Scully had a full day of quarterly departmental meetings in Skinner’s office. They gathered up their case reports from the past three months, not that there’d been very many due to Mulder’s medical leave, and sat in Skinner’s office with the other agents under his supervision. Mulder hated quarterly day.

On the last Friday of every quarter, they had to sit in Skinner’s office and discuss the validity of their caseload from the previous three months. If the meeting was just with Skinner, it wouldn’t have been much of a problem. But they also had to meet with an executive from the Records Management Division and the Finance Division. This was the status quo for all field agents in every branch on quarterly day.

However, for Mulder and Scully, quarterly day also meant that an executive from the Office of Integrity and Compliance sat in on the meeting. Such was the reputation of the X-Files and Mulder’s reputation, specifically. Mulder had that nasty habit of not doing things by the book, and after landing in hot water one too many times, now a representative from OIC attended all their quarterlies. This started a year ago when they’d been assigned under Kersh, and even though they were now back on the X-Files and working under Skinner, OIC thought this was just too good a habit to give up.

Today, Assistant Director Gregory Roberts from OIC was sitting in on the quarterly. As soon as Mulder walked through Skinner’s door and saw Roberts sitting in a corner, notebook in hand, he wanted to turn around and walk right back out. Roberts was a real son of a bitch, and it was no secret that he loathed Mulder. Scully stopped in her tracks at the sight of Roberts and inwardly groaned.

AD Roberts had originally hailed from the Laboratory Division and had worked out of Quantico. He had been Scully’s supervisor when she taught there from 1990 – 1993. He had known of her relationship with Agent Jack Willis, and had strongly disapproved. At first, Scully thought the disapproval stemmed from his ideas about students getting involved with instructors. However, it soon became clear that his disapproval was of a personal nature that made Scully very uncomfortable. In 1997, Roberts had accepted a position with the OIC.

On Friday, November 27th of last year he had sat in on Mulder and Scully’s first quarterly with Kersh, that had now required, for the first time, a representative from OIC (at Kersh’s request), and the experience had been miserable. Roberts had made jabs about November 27th being a very special date for Mulder and other unfavorable remarks about the X-Files, but most of his hostility had actually been directed at Scully. He made underhanded comments, which Kersh pretended not to hear, about Scully’s career choices and about her supposed penchant for authority figures; he impugned Scully’s reasons for staying with Mulder so long, reducing the validity of everything she’d accomplished in the X-Files, by surreptitiously remarking on her abandoning a real career in exchange for “paranormal pillow talk.” Mulder had walked out of Kersh’s office that day on the verge of bursting a blood vessel.

Needless to say, both Mulder and Scully felt a sense of horror at seeing Roberts once again attending their quarterly. But thankfully, with the meeting being directed by Skinner and not Kersh, Roberts wasn’t allowed a free-for-all attack on Scully or Mulder or the X-Files. That’s not to say Roberts didn’t attempt to get a few digs in, but each attempt was immediately greeted with Skinner’s reply of “Do you have something you want to share with the room, AD Roberts?” or “Roberts, unless you have something to add that is relevant to the case we’re reviewing, please save your comments for later and I’ll be happy to discuss them with you.” Roberts soon gave up.

For the first time ever, Mulder and Scully’s caseload didn’t take them very long to review. This was usually the other agents’ favorite part of the quarterly, the discussion of the X-Files cases Mulder and Scully had worked. Mulder may have made quite the reputation for himself, that of a loose cannon and an oddball, and many people wondered why someone like Scully would stick around in that dead end basement, but no one doubted the fact that Mulder and Scully did exciting work. Usually by the end of quarterly Friday, stories about all the “weird shit” Mulder and Scully had gotten into had spread all over the building.

Today was no different. By the time Scully had finished her overview of the rubbing that had caused Mulder’s illness and the description of his abnormal brain function; the ship in Africa covered in human DNA sequences and scriptures from the holy books of major religions; the strange occurrences in Africa around the site of the spaceship with the locusts, the water turned to blood, and the boils erupting on the skin of the African men who had been in the water with the ship; of Mulder missing from the hospital and then finding him in a DoD medical facility left for dead after invasive brain surgery, Skinner’s office had fallen silent. Mulder thought he could’ve heard a pin drop. No one knew what to make of this. Mulder could tell that some couldn’t believe their ears, while others looked frightened. Even Roberts hadn’t made any remarks under his breath the entire time Scully was talking.

Seeing the now awkward silence that was pervading his office, Skinner called for a 20 minute break, much to everyone’s relief. Mulder and Scully quickly left the room before Roberts had even gotten up from his chair, and were in the basement less than three minutes later. Much to their surprise, as they walked towards their office Lieutenant Kresge was standing outside their door, knocking.

“Dana, hi!” Kresge said, turning towards them.

“Hi Jonathan!” said Scully, smiling.

Kresge put out his hand, saying “Agent Mulder, right?”

Mulder shook hands with Kresge. “Good memory.”

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” said Kresge, turning toward Scully. “Dana, I’m sorry I haven’t called or anything. National Academy was kicking my ass. I just finished the Yellow Brick Road.”

“Wow, you survived,” Scully replied, chuckling.

“Barely,” Kresge grinned. “Anyways, I was wondering… do you have plans tonight? I’d like to take you out again.”

At this, Mulder walked away and unlocked the office door, going inside and leaving them out in the hallway. Scully stared at him until he was out of sight. She suddenly felt angry, but she wasn’t really sure why.

“Um… no, I don’t have any plans,” Scully said hesitatingly.

Kresge eyed her. “Look, Dana… I know your brother asked me to look you up, but I had a good time. I don’t want you to think that I only took you out as a favor. I’m going back to San Diego tomorrow. I’ve only got one night left on the east coast, and I’d like to spend it with you.”

A loud banging sound could be heard from inside the office. Scully thought it sounded like Mulder had dropped something, and she could hear him grumbling to himself. She rolled her eyes.

“What did you have in mind?” Scully asked.

Kresge smiled. “How about dinner at Marcel’s? I can pick you up at 7:30.”

“But that’s a brand new restaurant,” Scully replied. “We couldn’t possibly get in tonight.”

Kresge gave her a sheepish look. “Well… I knew tonight would be my last night in D.C. And so I made an 8:00 dinner reservation weeks ago, that afternoon after I came down here to see you.”

Scully had a puzzled expression. “In the afternoon? Wait. You mean you made dinner reservations for tonight, in hopes that I’d go with you, before we’d even gone out the first time?”

Kresge stared intently at her. “Yes.”

Scully felt her face redden, and she averted her eyes.

“So, will you go to dinner with me?” Kresge asked, expectantly.

She hesitated. “Sure.” Scully suddenly thought that Kresge would be a useful distraction from Mulder.

*****

At 3:30 pm, everyone reconvened in Skinner’s office following the 20 minute break. No one had much to say about Scully’s report, or if they did, they were keeping it to themselves. Although one of the other field agents quipped about Scully possibly writing off her travel expenses to Africa. Some final words were spoken to the group by Skinner, Roberts, AD Brenda Stercho of the Records Management Division, and AD Fern Mathews of the Finance Division, and by 4:15 Mulder and Scully were heading back down to their office.

“So… you’re going out with Kresge tonight?” Mulder asked, watching Scully take her keys out of her bag.

Scully didn’t look at him. “Yes, we’re going out for dinner.”

Silence. “I thought you said you weren’t going to see him again.”

“Well, I had no idea he was even going to ask me out again, Mulder. I certainly didn’t think so.”

Mulder sat down at the desk. “But I was going to take you over to see the Gunmen tonight.”

Scully looked over at him. “For what?”

He shot her an incredulous look. “Scully. You wanted to know what I’ve been doing all summer. I told you I was going to take you to see the Gunmen and explain everything.”

“Oh, right. Mulder, it doesn’t really matter. You did explain. You told me you’d been working with the Lone Gunmen. That’s explanation enough. Besides, it’s really none of my business what you do outside of work. Anyways, I’m heading out a little early. See you on Monday.”

He stared at her as she walked out of the office. Where the hell did that come from? _  
_

*****

Mulder sat in his apartment, watching the clock and thinking about Scully’s behavior since they’d returned from Colorado. She rarely made eye contact with him and she resisted whenever he made plans for them, or for her. There had been a murder case out of Vermont that he wanted to check out, as the victim had radiation burns from an unknown source, and he had the body sent to Quantico. When he told Scully the body had arrived for her to conduct the autopsy, she recoiled and made some flippant remark about Mulder acting like her boss.

That was just one example of many during the week where Scully had alluded to feeling like he dictates her life. Mulder had no idea what to say to this. Instead he just shook his head, and would leave the office. But as Mulder sat on the couch in his apartment, it all started to become clear. He could see behavioral patterns presenting themselves. Scully had only really acted this way twice that he could distinctly remember, and one time involved Ed Jerse and the other Phillip Padgett. Goddammit.

It suddenly dawned on Mulder why Ed Jerse had happened: He’d been ignoring her. He had been too obsessed with the work to notice that something serious was going on with Scully, and so she got a tattoo and then spent the night with a total stranger, almost getting killed in the process. Unfortunately, that didn’t really wake him up to his self-involved behavior because he didn’t understand her actions at the time, but her cancer diagnosis soon after sure did. Scully then became his priority; making sure she was okay, searching for answers to what caused her cancer, searching for a cure. He had come so close to losing her, and that was something he never wanted to experience again. So even after she recovered, he made sure that he didn't get so wrapped up in the X-Files that he ignored her. But how long did this last?

Mulder also realized why he’d found Scully sitting in the dark on Phillip Padgett’s bed: He’d been taking her for granted and was ignoring her again. Maybe she'd wanted his attention. Mulder knew that for the past year, ever since they returned from Antarctica and had the X-Files taken away, he’d acted like a real dick at times. Even to Scully, sometimes especially to Scully. Maybe it was frustration. Maybe it was anger. Maybe it was Diana. Or, rather, maybe it was because of how he knew she felt about Diana. Diana's offhand remarks about Scully not being a real ally to the work because she didn't agree with him about everything, that Diana would've contributed to a more equal partnership on the X-Files; he had actually let this get to him. This had caused a lot of internal conflict, and he’d taken it out on her. Maybe not directly, but he knew his actions toward her had been passive-aggressive at times. And now he hated himself. He hated himself for not resolutely defending Scully in a way that made Diana shut up. He hated himself for his behavior since they had returned from Antarctica, especially since he had actually become seriously aware of how important she was to him and to his work. He had told her so. And then that damn bee...

But it took reading Padgett’s book and finding Scully covered in blood on his apartment floor for him to start waking up to his behavior. Even so, he wasn’t fully awake until she had gotten him out of that DoD facility, and he’d recovered from his illness. She’d saved him. He had woken up to the truth about Diana, and his real feelings for Scully. But he was too late. He should’ve woken up years ago.

Was Kresge the next Jerse? The next Padgett? Or, even worse, was Kresge the decent man who would take Scully away from him? Someone who would come along and give her a normal life? Mulder decided that she obviously needed his attention. He thought about going over to her apartment and waiting for her to come home. But then he remembered that other Friday night not too long ago when she’d come home from her first date with Kresge, and changed his mind. That had been a miserable night. And doing so would be very selfish of him. He had no right to interfere in her life.

Maybe he should just let things take their course. Scully deserved a real life, a happy life. How could he possibly give her that? Why should she be chained to him and his quest forever? He wanted so much more for her. This might be her best chance for happiness. Kresge didn’t seem like a bad guy. He’d probably take good care of her. He knew that if she wanted to leave, he wouldn’t try to stop her this time. He won’t go charging after her down his hallway. He’d let her go. As Mulder sat in the darkness of his apartment, his heart broke and he buried his tear-stained face in his hands.


	16. "You're my one in five billion."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully returns home from her date with Kresge, and Diana Fowley is still a dark cloud hanging over her. Mulder shows up to Scully's apartment to fix that.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Delays – “Hold Fire”
> 
> If there's any dying to be done, I will  
> Be the one who gets the dying done, I will  
> Take a candle to the kingdom come, 'til then  
> Hold fire, hold fire
> 
> From high to low, the motion leans  
> Catch me, catch me  
> I'm falling fast, and need your wings  
> Catch me, catch
> 
> If there's any crying to be done, I will  
> Be the one who gets the crying done, I will  
> Cut my finger 'til the river runs, 'til then  
> Hold fire, hold fire
> 
> So tell me when the war begins  
> Tell me, tell me  
> The time has come to own this thing  
> Tell me, tell
> 
> Know your history  
> You need a cross to bear  
> Bring your cross to me  
> Live for me if you don't care

It was after 10:00 pm on Friday night, August 27th, when Kresge walked Scully inside her apartment building. Scully had a nice time at Marcel’s, a romantic French restaurant. Kresge had wanted to know all about her, her life and her work. He even asked how she’d been able to hold up after what happened with Emily. Scully knew that he wasn’t doing this as a favor to Bill. She could tell by Kresge’s tone of voice and body language that he actually liked her. It sure was tempting.

When they reached her apartment door, she turned to face Kresge. “Goodnight. Thank you for dinner. I had a really nice time.”

“The night doesn’t have to end right now,” Kresge said, leaning toward her.

She stepped slightly backwards, so that her back was touching her apartment door. She blushed and looked away. When Scully looked at Kresge again, he was licking his lips. She felt the muscles in the pit of her stomach tighten up. Kresge stepped forward, sliding an arm behind her waist and pulling her to him. She reflexively threw both hands up to grip his shoulders. Kresge’s pupils were dilated and his breathing had quickened. He had a hungry look on his face.

Scully swallowed. Here was a man, an attractive man, who didn’t hold back from communicating what he wanted. Kresge was blunt and to the point. Here was a man who wanted to touch her, who wanted to fuck her, and he wasn’t trying to hide the fact that he wanted to. When was the last time a man had looked at her like that? She hadn’t had sex in so long. She hadn’t felt a man’s arms around her, felt a man’s passionate kiss, felt a hard cock stroke her into ecstasy. Her suppressed libido was awakening. She felt hot desire pooling at her center.

But she lowered her arms and backed out of his hold. He looked disappointed. “Yes, it does,” Scully finally replied. “You’re going back to San Diego in the morning. I’m not going to see you again.”

Kresge eyed her thoughtfully. “Have you ever thought of moving back to San Diego? A change might be good. And anyways, I really like you, Dana. I’d happily keep seeing you if wasn’t for, you know, logistics.”

She gave him a small smile. He kissed her on the cheek and said goodbye. Scully watched him walk back down the hallway towards the elevator. She hurriedly unlocked her door and entered her dark apartment, kicking off her shoes. She couldn’t stand the ache anymore. It was unbearable.

She leaned back against the door and lifted up her skirt, shoving her right hand down her belly and into the front of her panties. Her fingers slid past her soft curls and sunk into her wet folds. Scully whimpered and closed her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d allowed herself to feel this kind of pleasure. Her fingers dragged the pooling juices from her slit forward, circling her aching clit. She moaned, and then sunk two fingers into her drenched cunt, and then a third finger. But it wasn't good enough. She abandoned this and concentrated all her ministrations on her throbbing clit. Suddenly Mulder was there and it wasn't her hand, it wasn't her fingers, his cock was between her legs, her clit stroked hard and fast. Within seconds she was coming, gasping and moaning.

But it wasn’t good enough. She wanted Mulder. She wished he was there. But he wasn't there. And he didn’t want her. He probably never would. He’d really only ever wanted Diana Fowley. And this was why she fought to never think of him in a sexual way. Because now the pain was back, sinking its claws into her heart and debilitating her. She sunk to the floor in misery.

*****

Ivory Coast, West Africa; May 19 – June 16, 1999

The first thought that ran through Scully’s mind as she laid her eyes on the craft washed up on the shore, lurking under the ocean waves, was that she wished Mulder was there. This is where their paths were meant to converge; where science and paranormal combined to form a common ground their partnership could build upon. This was meant for him to see. But she was there alone, without him to help steer this new path straight. How could she begin to understand? To make the connections that Mulder’s brilliant mind could always so quickly determine?

And so in Africa she did what she once did when she was lying in that hospital in Allentown, Pennsylvania: she kept a journal written for Mulder. She needed the grounding that Mulder always provided; his unwavering convictions and beliefs that she could always put her back up against in her weakest moments.

Every day Scully rose at dawn to continue the excavation of the craft. She collected rubbings of the surface, but she struggled to put the pieces together, to make sense of what she’s seeing. She needed Mulder more than ever. He could put the pieces together. His speculations, his hunches, usually turning out to be right, much to her chagrin a lot of the time.

As she lay awake at night, after a long day of deciphering the rubbings taken from the craft’s surface, her mind would be back in D.C., with Mulder; thinking of him in the hospital on those monitors screaming her name, or the times he’d just be looking up at the camera soundlessly mouthing her name and his eyes staring directly at her. He knew she was there. He needed her. He always spoke to her with his eyes, and they said far more than his words ever did.

Scully had left Mulder behind, to find answers and the hope for a cure to save him; she had left him behind with Diana Fowley, and this worried her. He was vulnerable and within Diana’s grasp. This turned her stomach into knots. What if something happened to him? Diana was a liar. Maybe he had indeed called her for help, but only because Scully had been in New Mexico. He’d been asking for her, at least Diana had admitted that. But it was possible that he never called Diana, and someone else had. Someone was spying on them, she knew it. Skinner? But why? Was Diana involved in that? Most likely. Scully couldn’t help but feel betrayed by Mulder’s continued allegiance to her, by his ignoring her legitimate suspicions over Diana’s true intentions. She had left him behind, and she fervently hoped she wouldn’t live to regret it.

But every night in her dreams, Mulder was there. In her dreams, she wasn’t afraid.

_He was pulling her from her cot, telling her to get back to work. She’d tell him that she was tired of chasing aliens and monsters, and to let her sleep. He’d laugh at her and lift her from the cot, setting her on her feet._

_“What are you doing, Mulder? You’re sick. You need to be resting.”_

_“Scully, you need my help. I’ve got that Navajo translation book you’d been looking for all day. We can decipher those rubbings you took.”_

_“But Mulder, you’re supposed to be in the hospital.”_

_“I’m supposed to be here with you, Scully.”_

_He took her hand, threading his fingers through hers, smiling at her. Suddenly he’s pulling books from the shelves of the_ _Universite Cote D'Ivoire_ _library. “We have to hurry, Scully. We need to find the answers.”_

_They sat on the floor, pouring over books, and putting the rubbings together like a puzzle. Suddenly, what had confused her earlier the day before was now making sense. She was thankful he was there to help her, but she still worried about him every night._

_“Mulder, are you in pain? Does your head hurt? You should rest.”_

_“I’m okay, Scully. You rest. You’ve been working hard all day. Go to sleep, Scully. I’ll stay up.”_

_She wanted to stay up with him, she needed to work. But she’s so tired and she lay down on a couch in the library, drifting to sleep while he worked at a table next to her._

And then it was once again dawn, and Scully would awaken on her cot in that tent next to Amina Ngebe. Mulder wasn’t there.

On her last night in the Ivory Coast, June 16th, Scully was drifting off to sleep despite of herself and her instincts to remain awake now that Dr. Barnes had intruded on their work. But she was exhausted, and unconsciousness was pulling her under.

_He was shaking her awake. “Scully, you have to come home now.”_

_“But there’s so much work to do, Mulder. I haven’t found a cure yet. I don’t know how to save you.”_

_“You’ll find a way, Scully. I trust you. Just come home. You have to."_

She felt that falling sensation of a hypnic jerk and awakened in her cot. Amina was lying awake next to her, and nodding towards Dr. Barnes, who was standing guard at the tent entrance. Scully wasn’t sure how she’d be able to leave. But she had to get home. She thought of Mulder in the clutches of Diana Fowley, of the possibility that Skinner was spying on the basement office, and of whomever else who might be putting his life in danger. He was in trouble; she knew it. She had to get to him as soon as possible.

*****

After a few minutes, Scully picked herself up off the floor and made her way to the bedroom. She got undressed and headed into the bathroom to take a shower. After getting out and putting on her robe, she realized that she had never checked her answering machine after getting home from work earlier. She had two messages.

“Dana, it’s Mom. Charlie and Jennifer are coming down on Sunday morning with the kids. We’re going to go to church together and then go out for brunch afterwards. They’d really like to see you. Oh, and Charlie says to invite Mulder. I don’t know how much success you’ll have with that, but that’s what your brother wanted me to tell you. Let me know if we can expect you. I love you, honey.”

She sighed. She supposed she should go, if at the very least to ease her mother’s mind. But the thought of Mulder attending Mass at her family’s church was laughable. Like hell was she ever going to ask him to go to something like that. What was Charlie thinking?

“Hi, Dana. This is Connie calling from Capital Women’s Care reminding you of your 8:00 am appointment for your annual exam this Tuesday, August 31st. We look forward to seeing you!”

She groaned. Time for her yearly reminder that she'd never have children.

There was a knock on her door. She looked up, surprised. It was after 11:30 pm. She then sighed and stared at the door. It could only be one person. Scully opened her door to see Mulder standing there in a charcoal t-shirt, dark jeans, and sneakers. He looked her up and down. Her hand flew to her robe to make sure she was decent. She became keenly aware that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” he asked, looking concerned.

“No, Mulder.”

He hesitated. “Are you here alone?”

She scoffed. “Of course I am. Who else would be here?”

Mulder shuffled his feet from side to side. “I thought you had a date with Kresge,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

Scully eyed him pointedly. “We went out for dinner earlier, yes. But he’s not in my apartment. Nor was he ever.”

He met her eyes and their gaze lingered for some seconds.

“Can I come in?” Mulder asked.

She blinked. “Oh, yeah… yeah, come in.” She stepped aside from the doorway and Mulder entered, turned left into the kitchen and sat at the table. Scully followed him. “Would you like some coffee? Tea? Beer?”

Mulder debated. “A beer would be great, thanks.”

She grabbed two beers from the fridge, and a bottle opener, and sat across from Mulder at the table. “So, what’s up?”

He took a swig of his beer. “I fell asleep on the couch and had a bad dream.”

Scully drank from her bottle and then nodded. “What was the dream?”

He sighed. “There’s this young boy on a beach building a sand UFO. He used to be happy. But lately he’s been very upset and no matter what I do, I can’t help him. I can’t get to him. I can’t fix whatever is wrong.”

“So you’ve had this dream before?” she asked.

Mulder nodded. “Yeah, I’ve dreamt many times about this little boy.”

She pondered this. “Take out the sand UFO and replace the little boy with a little girl, and I have similar dreams.”

“What do you think it means?” Mulder asked.

Scully shrugged. “I don’t know. Do these dreams have any major significance? Or are they just hyper-active brain activity conjuring up an amalgamation of various images, sensations, and emotions that we have experienced at some point in our lives? I know I was deeply affected by Emily’s death, and so dreaming of a little girl isn’t so strange. Or maybe dreaming about children is fulfilling some need within our subconscious.”

“Hmm. Do you think we’re missing out on anything, Scully? I mean… our work is consuming. There are other things that we could be missing out on.”

She was surprised by this. She had never known him to give serious consideration to life outside the X-Files.

“I suppose everyone is missing out on something.” She really didn’t want to talk to him about wanting children, or other things she felt she was missing out on.

“Yeah, maybe,” he said. He paused. “Scully, I’m kind of surprised that you changed your mind about wanting to know what I was doing with the Lone Gunmen over the summer.”

She shrugged.

He was going to tell her anyways, even if she pretended she didn’t care. “Scully, a couple weeks after I started my medical leave, I received a box with a letter and a compact disc from Diana.”

She pursed her lips. And Mulder saw it happen, right there in front of him; saw a cloud suddenly come over Scully’s face; saw her eyes that had been full of emotion now look dead; he saw the walls coming up.

“I don’t want to talk about Diana Fowley, Mulder,” she said tersely. She never wanted to hear that name again.

He sighed. “Well, I do want to talk about her. And who else can I talk to? You’re the only one I’ve got.”

She felt at a loss. She didn’t want to talk about this. To hear him talk about Diana and how much he felt he was missing out on would be torture. But how could she refuse him? He was her friend, and he needed her to listen.

Mulder saw some emotion creeping back into her eyes, but she appeared to be bracing herself for things she didn’t want to hear. But he had to get this off his chest. It was eating away at him.

“Scully, you were right about her. Everything. All of it. She collected data and supervised experiments on MUFON women. And who knows what else. She’d been working for Cancer Man the whole time. You were right all along.”

Her eyes grew wide and she stared at him. “How do you know? When did you find this out?”

Mulder sighed. “I started to realize back in May on the day Diana came for me in that stairwell at American University and she took me home. I could hear it. And then when I was in the hospital, I knew for sure.”

She looked doubtful. “Not that ‘reading minds’ thing again.”

“Scully, I’m telling you the truth. I should’ve realized much sooner, like you did. But I let anger get in the way.”

“Anger? What were you angry about?” she asked.

Mulder hesitated. “I was angry about a lot of things, Scully. I was angry at the FBI for taking the X-Files away from me. Everything I’d worked for, poured my heart and soul into, had been taken from me and I was stuck investigating literal piles of shit. But… mostly…”

She looked at him questioningly, but he was staring at his hands on the table. “Yes?”

He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “I was angry at you, Scully. I was angry that you didn’t back me up in front of the OPR panel. I was angry at you for denying what had happened in Antarctica. I was angry that we were suddenly tip-toeing around one another and bickering all the time. I was angry that you didn’t believe me when I said Diana was doing what was best for the X-Files. I was angry that you would throw trust in my face and would seemingly try to force me to choose between you. I was angry that you went behind my back to gather information on her and confronted me, not in private, but in front of the Lone Gunmen. I didn’t know what you expected of me.”

“Mulder…”

“No, let me finish. But when we sat in Kersh’s office and you stood by me, despite being upset over my own actions, telling Kersh not to bet against me… I knew what you had expected of me all along: to stand by you, no matter what. You weren’t asking me to choose because, in reality, there should’ve been no choice to make. I should have acknowledged your right to voice your suspicions of Diana even if I didn’t agree with you, instead of trying to silence you or dismissing your opinion out of hand. By ignoring your concerns, I ended up forcing you to question my loyalty to you. At the end of that meeting with Kersh I felt so relieved to finally have the X-Files back, but when I turned to you and saw how sad you looked, the feeling of relief was gone as I saw the chasm that laid between us. Scully, I’m sorry about Diana, about my behavior. I should have listened to you. You were right. She played me like a fool.”

She sat there, stunned. He was once again staring at his folded hands. How different he was on this Friday night compared to the Friday night three weeks ago when they had sat eating ice cream at this same table. Gone was the silent broodiness, and here was Mulder actually expressing himself. Scully reached across the table and held onto his hand. He looked up and stared at her.

“So, my family is getting together this Sunday. Would you like to come to brunch with us?”

Mulder grinned at her. “Is Bill Jr in town?”

Scully smiled. “Nope.”


	17. “Don't you ever just want to stop? Get out of the damn car? Settle down and live something approaching a normal life?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully investigate a case. And then they spend some time at Mrs. Scully's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natasha Bedingfield - "Wild Horses"
> 
> I feel these four walls closing in  
> My face up against the glass  
> I'm looking out  
> Is this my life, I'm wondering  
> It happened so fast  
> How do I turn this thing around  
> Is this the bed I chose to make  
> There’s greener pastures I'm thinking about  
> Wide open spaces far away
> 
> All I want is the wind in my hair  
> To face the fear but not feel scared
> 
> Wild horses, I wanna be like you  
> Throwing caution to the wind, I'll run free too  
> Wish I could recklessly love, like I'm longing to  
> I wanna run with the wild horses, run with the wild horses
> 
> I see the girl I wanna be  
> Riding bareback, carefree along the shore  
> If only that someone was me  
> Jumping head first, headlong without a thought  
> To act and damn the consequence  
> How I wish it could be that easy  
> But fear surrounds me like a fence  
> I wanna break free
> 
> All I want is the wind in my hair  
> To face the fear but not feel scared
> 
> Wild horses, I wanna be like you  
> Throwing caution to the wind, I'll run free too  
> Wish I could recklessly love, like I'm longing to  
> I wanna run with the wild horses, run with the wild horses
> 
> Recklessly abandoning myself before you  
> I wanna open up my heart, tell him how I feel
> 
> Wild horses, I wanna be like you  
> Throwing caution to the wind, I'll run free too  
> Wish I could recklessly love, like I'm longing to  
> I wanna run with the wild horses, run with the wild horses

Just after 8:00 am on Saturday, August 28th, Mulder showed up back at Scully’s place. She opened her apartment door, still wearing her pajamas, wondering why he was there so early, especially since he didn’t leave her place the night before until well after midnight.

When Mulder had left, she'd felt a huge sense of relief. He wasn’t hung up on Diana, except maybe still a little angry at himself for being so blind. But he hadn’t loved her. He hadn’t wanted her. And as Mulder stood in her doorway, seeing her in her pajamas and her hair a mess, she smiled as she thought of the night before…

“I know it must’ve been hard for you, to have such strong feelings about her and then learn of her betrayal. And with the Smoking Man, of all people,” Scully said softly, still holding Mulder’s hand across her table.

He started to play with her fingers. “Scully… I obviously had feelings for Diana years ago and having her around again was certainly awkward. But I had no thoughts of picking up where we’d left off or hoping for anything like that.”

She watched their fingers entwine. “Why didn’t you?”

Mulder looked at her thoughtfully. “Because that was so long ago. Thankfully, I’m not the same person I was when she left. I just wish I had known where her true loyalties lied. I wish I had been able to confront her about it. Now I just feel stupid.”

Scully nodded sympathetically. “But she still helped me save you. And she paid with her life. Even though her motives were… questionable, I guess she was still a friend to you, in some ways.”

He shook his head. “No, Scully. Diana had her reasons for doing what she did, but everything she did was working against me and the truth. _You_ are my friend. You’re the only real friend I’ve ever had.”

She stared at him and gave him a small smile. She felt the pain dissipating. She no longer cared about Diana Fowley or believed she still had some kind of hold on Mulder. She wanted to tell Mulder how she truly felt, tell him that she loved him. But she could feel the fear and doubt rising up. He thought of her as a friend. He’d made no inclination that he thought of her any other way. She waited for Mulder to make that move, to make that step that crossed the line between them. He had to be the one to do it.

Mulder’s heart pounded in his chest and his stomach filled with butterflies. He wanted to take her in his arms. He wanted to run from the room. He wanted to grab her up onto the table, shove her robe aside and sink his rock hard member into her hot, wet center. He wanted to leave her apartment immediately.

He pulled his hand from Scully’s. “Thanks for the beer. And thanks for listening to me. I should go, it’s getting late.”

She walked with him to her apartment door. They said goodnight, and made plans to see each other for brunch on Sunday in Alexandria.

…Mulder walked past her and into her living room. “Get dressed, Scully, and pack a bag. We’ve got to go to Arizona.”

“Arizona?” She looked at him, puzzled. “Why?”

“Special Agent Pysnack of the Phoenix field office called about an hour ago. Last night someone went on a shooting spree in the small town of Ajo, Arizona and killed six people. A suspect, one Harold Kennedy, was apprehended about an hour later by the local police, who then called the FBI field office. The FBI sent a team down to look into it, and apparently Mr. Kennedy is saying he has no memory of killing those people because aliens abducted him and took control of his mind.”

Scully stared. “Well, the man is obviously crazy.”

“Maybe he is. But is he crazy-crazy? Or did the alien abductions _make_ him crazy?” Mulder replied.

She arched an eyebrow at him.

“He’s offered some very specific information about his abduction experiences, including tests, metal implants, lost time. The Phoenix field office wants us to handle it.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” she quipped, dryly.

“Come on, Scully. We’ve got to get out there,” Mulder said hurriedly.

She frowned. “But it’s the weekend, Mulder.”

He stared. “What’s your point?”

She shot an incredulous look at him.

“Scully, when was the last time we worked a real case? Come on, let’s get going. Our flight leaves at 9:20.”

She sighed. Was this really what her life had become? Never just standing still for a moment, and enjoying a simple existence. Was she forever going to be running, chasing, searching? And then coming home to an empty life, a life without a family of her own? Coming home to an empty apartment, and no one to share her life with? Would Mulder ever want to stop and just spend some real time with her, time that didn’t involve monsters and aliens and nefarious government organizations? She thought about refusing him, about finally putting her foot down and demanding some kind of normalcy for herself.

“Scully, the Phoenix field office requested our help. I don’t want to go out there alone.”

She looked at his puppy dog expression, and her resolve weakened. Dammit. She wanted to refuse him, but she knew she couldn’t. She knew she’d follow him anywhere.

*****

After an hour layover in Houston, they had arrived in Arizona around 12:50 pm local time. After collecting a rental car, they met with Agent Pysnack at the FBI field office who gave them all the information he had on Harold Kennedy as well as briefed them on the background information on all six victims. Kennedy was currently being held in the jail of the Pima County Sheriff’s Department in Ajo.

A two-hour drive south of Phoenix brought them to Ajo, Arizona, a town with a population of less than 3,500. Before heading to the county jail, they went directly to Kennedy’s home on West 9th Street. Agent Pysnack had told them that the local police had confiscated several assault rifles from his backyard shed. Mulder wanted to gather as much information about Kennedy as he could before interviewing him. It was a small, one-level single family home with sparse landscaping and three bedrooms that Kennedy had bought several years ago for only $16,000. Kennedy wasn’t married and he had no children. The house looked lived in and empty at the same time. There were no photos, or other personal touches around the house.

As Mulder and Scully walked into the home office, they were greeted by walls covered in newspaper clippings and magazine articles about the occult, aliens, abductions, reports of satanic cult activities. The book shelves contained post-apocalyptic novels, non-fiction books about Area 51 and the history of UFO crashes, America’s top secret military projects, extraterrestrial encounters, and reported satanic cult killings.

She held up the book _Demonic Conspiracies throughout History_ to show Mulder, and gave him a blank stare. He shook his head.

“He’s definitely crazy, Scully,” he said while looking through the bookshelves. She sighed, shaking her head and closing her eyes. She couldn’t believe she was spending her precious Saturday in this room.

They found a box filled with VHS tapes and took it out to the living room. They proceeded to watch several tapes with Kennedy recounting his experiences of being abducted by aliens. One video was something he’d recorded of himself outdoors at night because he felt the alien implants were directing him to a secret satanic ritual somewhere out in the desert.

“This just looks like a knockoff of _The Blair Witch Project_ , Mulder.”

He sighed. “Time to go see Mr. Kennedy.”

It was almost 5:30 pm when Scully and Mulder got into their rental car and headed to the county jail. The interview of Harold Kennedy didn’t go over very well. One minute, he was claiming that alien mind control took over him and told him to start shooting out in the open street upon unsuspecting citizens. The next minute, he claimed he had been a victim of satanic cult abuse and had been possessed by the Devil. Of course, there was no actual proof of any of this. Mulder even used a wand metal detector, but no implants could be detected. By the time Kennedy had changed his story to aliens and satanic cultists being in cahoots, Mulder had heard enough. He informed the Phoenix field office that there wasn’t anything for him to do and the local police could handle it.

Mulder and Scully sat in their rental car in the parking lot of the Sheriff’s department. She sat, shaking her head. What a waste of a perfectly good weekend. He cleared his throat. “Okay, so he was actually crazy. For real crazy. Do you think the Phoenix bureau called me as a joke?”

Scully sighed, clicked one of the overhead lights, and opened the file on her lap. “He was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia in July 1990. He stopped taking his medication eight months ago.”

Mulder sighed and looked at the clock on the dashboard; it was 9:17 pm. He pulled out his cell phone and called headquarters about getting a flight back to D.C. After a few minutes, he hung up and turned towards her.

“The next flight out with two seats available isn’t until 1:25 am and doesn’t get into D.C. until just after 1:00 pm on Sunday. There’s a three-hour layover in Charlotte.”

Scully looked horrified. She hated long layovers. She hated red eye flights. They always left her exhausted and her body clock screwed up. “When’s the next flight?”

“It leaves at 5:00 am and gets into D.C. at 3:15 pm with a one-hour layover in Denver. But there’s a 7:00 am direct flight available that gets into D.C. at 2:05.”

Scully thought about it. There goes church and brunch with the family, but maybe they could meet up for an early dinner. “Okay, let’s take the 7:00 flight. But right now I’m starving. Let’s find somewhere to eat.”

Mulder and Scully found an authentic Mexican café that was still open and they sat at an outdoor table. The tables inside with the air conditioning were all filled up. The outdoor seating area was lit with small red and green Christmas lights strung along the patio awning. Mexican folk music could be heard playing from speakers that were hung up in the corners.

When their waitress came over, they each ordered two chile verde tamales and ice water. Mulder removed his tie, unbuttoned the top several buttons of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. “It’s hotter than hell out here, Scully. And it’s dark out now. Night has fallen. And have you looked at the thermometer over there? It’s 87 degrees.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m sweating to death over here.”

When their food arrived, they ate in comfortable silence. After Scully had finished her last bite of her second tamale, she groaned in appreciation. “Mulder…”

“I know. They’re fucking delicious.”

“This was worth coming all the way out here,” she said, wiping her mouth with her napkin.

Mulder looked at her. “So you don’t wish you’d stayed home?”

She smiled at him. “No.”

He smiled in return.

Mulder found a motel close by where they decided to stay the night and get a few hours of sleep. It was after 10:30 pm. They decided get up early and drive to Phoenix in the morning. They checked in and were given two rooms. Mulder stood outside while Scully unlocked her motel room door and stepped inside.

She took one look around the room, and then turned an annoyed look on him. The room had stained, faded orange carpeting that clashed with the glaringly bright-colored paisley-patterned comforter on the bed. The room was hot and the air inside felt stifling.

“For just once, Mulder, can we not stay in a place that has hourly rates?”

He grinned at her. “We gotta stay within the FBI’s allotted accommodations budget.”

Scully groaned as she shut the door behind her, while Mulder walked next door to his own room. He turned on the A/C unit in the room and it started blowing hot air. Hopefully it would only take a minute to start cooling. He took a cold shower, and then pulled on a pair of gym shorts. When he walked back out to the room, the air was just as hot as ever. He went over to the A/C unit and tried fiddling with it, but no cool air was coming. He called the front desk and complained. The receptionist knew about the problem, but they had run out of coolant and wouldn’t be able to get any more until the hardware store opened in the morning. Mulder asked for another room, but they were all booked up right now. But a room might be available in an hour or two, “depending on when the occupants finish up… doing whatever they’re doing.” Mulder sighed and hung up the phone. The heat and stuffy air of his room was unbearable. He tried to open the windows to let some air in, but they were bolted shut.

He went back outside and knocked on Scully’s door.

“Who is it?”

“Um, Scully… is your A/C working?”

“Yeah. Isn’t yours?” she asked through the door.

“No, it’s only blowing hot air,” Mulder replied, exasperated.

“Do you want to stay in here with me?” Scully asked.

“Really?” He was surprised that he didn’t have to ask and that she didn’t hesitate to offer.

Scully chuckled. “Yes, of course. You won’t get any sleep in a hot room. Go get your stuff.”

Mulder smiled. “Go team,” he said through the door.

She laughed.

Mulder went next door to grab his things. When he came back she had unlocked the door, and he stepped inside. As he shut the door and locked it behind him, dropping his bag on the floor next to him, he closed his eyes and leaned back against the door, feeling the immediate relief of the cool air.

“Beautiful,” he sighed.

He opened his eyes and saw Scully standing there, looking like she’d just showered herself, wearing ankle socks, black cotton shorts, and a white tank top. He noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra. Beautiful. Um… maybe this was a bad idea.

As Mulder kicked off his sneakers, she stared at him and blinked. He was only wearing shorts and a pair of socks. She stared at his long legs, his firm and flat stomach, his sculpted chest with the perfect amount of soft curls, his collar bones and up to his neck. She could feel her face burning.

She turned around to look for the TV remote, anything to distract herself. Mulder made his way over to stand in front of the A/C unit. He watched Scully move around the room, watched her smooth legs and watched her breasts moving freely underneath her tank top. He wanted to touch her so badly. He felt his cock twitch beneath his shorts. _Calm down, you worthless fuck._ Bad idea. This was such a bad idea.

Scully turned on the TV and then set the remote down on the left bedside table. She loosened up the sheets from the corners and fluffed the pillows. She had pulled off the ugly comforter and laid it in a pile across the floor at the foot of the bed. She walked around to the right side of the bed, in front of where Mulder was standing by the A/C, and lay down, pulling the sheet over herself and turning so her back was to him. Her stomach was filled with butterflies. She wanted to have a real talk with Mulder, tell him how she felt, tell him what she wanted. But she was afraid; afraid of rejection, afraid of acceptance. She wished she could find the courage to speak up.

“Um, Scully. I think I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“The floor is disgusting, Mulder. But it would serve you right for picking this shithole for us to stay in.”

He chuckled and nodded his head. He shut off the lights, and walked around to the left side of the bed. He lay down on top of the sheet, stretching his legs out in front of him, and shut off the TV.

“Don’t you want to watch TV?” Scully asked, sleepily.

“Nah.”

“But don’t you usually fall asleep with the TV on? I don’t mind, really.”

“Yeah, but I don’t need to have the TV on now,” he said. “Because you’re here.”

Scully smiled to herself in the dark. “Will you talk to me until I fall asleep?” she yawned.

Mulder turned to lie on his right side and face her. “Sure. What do you want me to talk about?”

“Tell me your story about the Queen Anne and the Nazis and Thor’s Hammer and how I saved the world. I’ll be out like a light in no time.” She started giggling.

He stared at her, trying hard not to grin. “Very funny, Scully.”

She kept giggling. But it was infectious and soon he was laughing too. His laughter was the last thing she could remember hearing before drifting to sleep. When they awoke to the alarm sounding off just four hours later at 3:30 am, they were in the same position they had fallen asleep in, each lying on their sides and facing each other, except at some time during the night Mulder’s hand had found Scully’s and he was holding it tight.

*****

Thankfully, their flight had no delays and they arrived on time in D.C. at 2:05 pm on Sunday. Mulder had agreed to drive Scully to her mother’s house in Alexandria. Charlie and Jennifer and their kids were there. When they arrived at the house, Mrs. Scully came outside and invited Mulder to stay. To Scully’s happy surprise, he accepted the invitation and followed her into the house.

“I’m sorry about keeping Dana from church and brunch today, Mrs. Scully,” Mulder said as he entered the house.

“Oh, that’s okay, Fox. I’m sure it was important.”

Scully made eye contact with Mulder and smirked, her eyes laughing. He gazed at her and fought hard to stop himself from grinning.

“Yeah, we were checking out a case in Arizona,” Mulder replied to Mrs. Scully.

At this, Charlie walked into the room and held out his hand toward Mulder. “Anything exciting?”

He shook Charlie’s hand. “Just some lunatic that went on a shooting spree.”

“Oh yeah, I think I saw something about that on CNN,” Charlie said.

Charlie then walked over to Scully and gave her a hug. “Jennifer and the boys are in the backyard.”

Mulder watched her and her mother make their way to the kitchen. “Can I get you a beer, Mulder?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks,” he replied.

Mulder and Charlie sat at the kitchen table and talked, while Mulder occasionally looked out the window to the backyard and watched Scully sitting at the picnic table with her mother and sister-in-law. He saw that the two boys, Ben and Jack, were racing remote control cars around the yard. Mulder also noticed that Jennifer’s pregnancy was showing.

A couple hours later, they all sat around Mrs. Scully’s dining room table. She had baked her famous lasagna and meatballs. Scully listened to Charlie and Jennifer talk about getting things ready for the upcoming school year; back to school shopping for the boys, meeting with the parents of her new kindergarten students, meeting with the players from last year’s basketball team and their parents. They talked about PTA meetings, the pregnancy, planning a nursery, planning for Jennifer’s upcoming maternity leave. They talked about their neighbors and dealing with a tree that had fallen into their yard. She listened to them talk about all the small things that combine to make up their life together.

Scully also listened to Mulder talk about the X-Files cases they’d worked on together with just as much enthusiasm as her brother and sister-in-law talked about their simple life. The boys would gasp or laugh at Mulder’s stories, unable to believe what they were hearing, sometimes breaking into Mulder’s commentary with their own exclamations of how cool or gross something was. Mulder would just smile. Charlie and Jennifer listened intently to him, asked questions, laughed, made disgusted or shocked faces, and basically just seemed genuinely interested in his work.

As Scully sat listening to both parties discuss their lives, she realized that neither life interested her in the long-term. To leave the X-Files to live a mundane life in the suburbs where the only exciting thing to happen was a neighbor’s tree falling into your yard would be boring as hell. How could she ever go back to a normal life after everything she’s done? The life Mulder leads would never really be boring, even if their investigations turned up nothing, like the one in Arizona. She liked being with Mulder, and it really didn’t matter what they were doing (although the accommodations could be better). But the thought of always living alone, without a family and without love, with absolutely nothing going on in her life other than some weird thing Mulder wants to investigate isn’t the life she wants either.

But a combination of the two might not be so bad. Having an exciting life filled with purpose, filled with strange and new discoveries, saving lives and administering justice; that was at the same time the opposite of lonely, that was a life filled with love and personal satisfaction – this was the life she wanted. But was it the life Mulder wanted? Would she always be alone? Would she ever strike up the courage to tell him how she feels? Or would Mulder ever want her and then do something about it? Is this really it? Is this all her life will ever be? _Stop it, Dana._ Scully reprimanded herself, telling herself that she'd be happy to accept whatever Mulder was willing to give her. If that didn't include love and sex, then so be it. She had to come to terms with the fact that friendship was the best she could hope for.

But would she forever be going home to an empty apartment, with no one there who loves her? No child of her own? Was motherhood really lost to her forever? Sometimes she still found it hard to believe.


	18. “Why didn’t you tell me, Mulder?” … “I never expected this. I thought I was protecting you.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully goes to her doctor's appointment, and then learns about something Mulder should've told her years ago. She's not happy about it.
> 
> Here we begin inserting the flashback scenes from the Season 8 episode "Per Manum," which will carry on through the next few chapters. If you haven't seen the episode, I suggest you watch it first. Or you can watch it in conjunction with the story. Whichever lol.
> 
> Disclaimer - The dialog from the "Per Manum" scenes does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz. They belong to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snow Patrol – “Make This Go On Forever”
> 
> Please don't let this turn into something it's not  
> I can only give you everything I've got  
> I can't be as sorry as you think I should  
> But I still love you more than anyone else could
> 
> All that I keep thinking throughout this whole flight  
> Is it could take my whole damn life to make this right  
> This splintered mast I'm holding on won't save me long  
> Because I know fine well that what I did was wrong
> 
> The last girl and the last reason to make this last for as long as I could  
> First kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything  
> The weight of water, the way you told me to look past everything I had ever learned  
> The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was love
> 
> We have got through so much worse than this before  
> What's so different this time that you can't ignore  
> You say it is much more than just my last mistake  
> And we should spend some time apart for both our sakes
> 
> The last girl and the last reason to make this last for as long as I could  
> First kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything  
> The weight of water, the way you told me to look past everything I had ever learned  
> The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was love
> 
> And I don't know where to look  
> My words just break and melt  
> Please just save me from this darkness

On Monday afternoon, August 30th, Mulder and Scully walked into Skinner’s office.

“You wanted to see us, sir?” Scully asked, as they walked through the door.

“Yes, take a seat,” Skinner replied.

Mulder and Scully sat in the two chairs facing Skinner’s desk.

“A couple things I wanted to talk to you about,” Skinner said as he grabbed a manila envelope from the right side of his desk and set it down in front of him. “First, the field office in Phoenix sends their thanks for getting a confession out of Harold Kennedy.”

He gave Skinner a skeptical look. “I was under the impression that I did absolutely nothing worthwhile out there.” He glanced sideways at Scully, and saw she was chewing her bottom lip and staring at her entwined hands in her lap. He furrowed his brows. Did he say something wrong?

“On the contrary,” said Skinner. “When they arrested Kennedy he told them he had no memory of anything over the previous 12 hours due to… uh… alien mind control.”

She rolled her eyes. He snorted.

“The boys called you in and Kennedy started singing like jailbird,” Skinner continued. “Early on Sunday morning they found the murder weapon, an assault rifle, under a sewer grate just five blocks from the crime scene. His prints were all over it. Kennedy is set for arraignment in Arizona Superior Court in Pima County.”

He nodded his head.

Skinned sighed. “And speaking of court, the District of Columbia v. Bernard Oates trial is set to start next Monday, unless there’s another postponement. The prosecution wants to meet with you both again this week. I suggest you review your report on the attempted bank robbery and the death of Pamela Hamilton. And the prosecution requests that you make no more references to _Groundhog Day_.”

He pursed his lips.

“Is there a problem, Agent Mulder?” Skinner asked, tersely. “The prosecution wants to win this case. Bernard Oates is guilty. He needs to be put away, and they don’t want you ruining your credibility as a witness by getting on the stand and saying that Pamela Hamilton was stuck living that day over and over again. That’s not even relevant to Oates’ guilt.”

He sighed. Scully glanced at him sympathetically.

“Anyways, they’re not sure how long the trial is going to last,” said Skinner. “Oates pleaded not guilty and so far he’s resisted any attempts at a settlement. He wants a full-fledged trial by a jury of his peers. So I suggest that you two not take any more cases for the time-being, until your part in the direct and cross examinations is concluded.”

Mulder balked. He felt like he hadn’t accomplished anything since he’d come back to work from medical leave. He felt stuck, like he was running around in circles and never getting anywhere.

Skinner eyed him thoughtfully. “I had a department head meeting this morning. The Deputy Director wasn’t very amused with the gift you sent to his office.”

Mulder smirked. “Why? I just felt that the Deputy Director should know that his decision to send us on that team building retreat yielded good results.”

Scully glanced down at her lap and smiled to herself.

Skinner glared at Mulder. “But did you have to send him the trophy wrapped in pink tissue paper and tied with a ribbon?”

Scully’s mouth flew open in shock, and she started laughing in disbelief (“Oh, my God.”), and then covered her face with her hand while she shook her head. Mulder shot her a sideways look and grinned, before returning to stare resolutely at Skinner.

Skinner sighed. “Mulder, are you purposely trying to piss off the wrong people? Don’t pull another stunt like that again.”

He glowered at Skinner, and Scully glanced nervously between them.

“You may go now, agents,” Skinner said brusquely.

Mulder and Scully walked out of Skinner’s office in silence. When they got out to the hallway, he stared pointedly at her. “You sure were quiet in there.”

“What was I supposed to say?” she asked, as they walked down the hallway toward the elevator.

Mulder shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, defeated. Scully chuckled. “Did you really wrap the trophy in pink tissue paper?”

“Yep, and I tied it with white ribbons. You know... the gift wrap kind with the curls.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “The Deputy Director is going to get you back for that, I hope you know. But no one can ever say that you don’t have balls, Mulder.”

He grinned down at her. She smiled back.

They stepped into an empty elevator, and Mulder pressed the ‘B’ button. The elevator stopped on the third floor, and some agents and administrative staff stepped on. Scully stepped to the side to stand in front of him to make room for the others in the now packed compartment. As the elevator resumed its descent, he glanced around and noticed a couple of male agents, in their mid to late 30’s, staring at Scully. One of them leaned over and whispered something to the other. They both chuckled under their breath, and then returned their gaze back to her. He scowled.

When the elevator stopped on the first floor, everyone in the elevator, apart from Mulder and Scully, started to exit. As the two agents started to make their way out, one of them turned and asked “How’s life in the basement treating you, Spooky?”

Mulder noticed Scully tensing up and her posture going stiff. But she stared firmly at the elevator panel in front of her. He turned to look at the agent and glared.

His companion, the other agent, glanced at Scully again. “I’d say it’s going pretty good, wouldn’t you? I sure wouldn’t mind being down there under certain circumstances. It must have its privileges.”

They smirked at Scully as they exited the elevator, but she refused to look at them. After the doors closed, she looked back at Mulder and rolled her eyes. But he wasn’t taking it all in stride as she was doing. He felt flooded by too many emotions at once; anger, annoyance, guilt, shame. What had he done to her, her career and her reputation? He suddenly felt sick of himself, and fervently hoped that she didn’t feel the same.

*****

Just before 8:00 am on Tuesday morning, Scully arrived at Capital Women’s Care for her annual pelvic exam. She started to fill out the familiar questionnaire about her medical history, sexual activity, and menstrual cycle. It served as a shitty reminder each year of the state her life was in; the only reason she was cancer-free was because of that chip in her neck, she was barren and couldn’t remember when her last period was. Two months ago? Maybe three? And she wasn’t having any sex. Three cheers for Team Scully.

After the pelvic exam, pap smear, and clinical breast examination concluded and she got dressed, her gynecologist Dr. Patricia Rausch sat down with her in the exam room.

“Okay, Dana. I just wanted to go over the results of your blood tests you had done at the lab yesterday morning.”

Scully nodded.

“Your key hormone levels are all normal; your progesterone, FSH, LH, E2, and AMH levels all look good. So that’s great news. Amazing news, really.”

Scully gave a puzzled look. “Why is that?”

“Well, you were diagnosed with premature ovarian failure two years ago, but in fact it says here in your chart that you believe this had actually first occurred back in November 1994.”

“Yes.”

Dr. Rausch gave her a pointed look. “You’ve had POF for almost five years now and it seems as though you have yet to experience the onset of premature menopause. Are you experiencing any mood changes, hot flashes or night sweats? Vaginal dryness? Decreased interest in sex?”

Scully sighed. “No.”

Dr. Rausch looked at her carefully. “Hmm. As you know, due to your POF we also have to test for any signs of osteoporosis, hypothyroidism, Addison's disease and other auto-immune disorders, and heart disease. But your blood tests all came back fine. It appears that you are in perfect health, despite the fact that your ovaries no longer produce eggs.”

Scully furrowed her brows. “Is that strange?”

“Well…,” Dr. Rausch paused. “not exactly, no. But I can’t possibly begin to explain why your ovaries have failed without any signs of the usual causes or the fact that after five years you don’t have any of the adverse symptoms that accompany the diagnosis of POF.”

Scully shook her head slightly and sighed. “I can’t explain it either.”

Dr. Rausch gave her a small smile. “Okay, well that’s all I have for you. Before you leave, make sure you schedule your six-month appointment.”

Dr. Rausch left the room. Scully grabbed her bag. She always felt irritated that she had to return six months later just to have her blood pressure taken and her urine tested. She walked out to the waiting area and stood at the receptionist’s desk. A woman in her early to mid 40’s with curly blond hair and brown eyes pushed aside the glass partition. She noticed that her name tag said “Connie.”

“You need to schedule your six-month?” Connie asked, greeting Scully with a big smile.

“Yeah,” Scully replied.

Connie made a few clicks on her computer. “February is all booked up. How about March?”

“That’s fine.”

“Is there a day of the week that you prefer?” Connie asked.

“Not really.”

“How about a time?”

“As early in the morning as possible,” Scully replied.

“How about Monday, March 6th at 8:00 am?” asked Connie.

“That works,” Scully said.

“Okay, we’ll see you then!” Connie said brightly.

Scully blinked, and then gave Connie a halfhearted smile before walking out of the office. She had planned on hailing a taxi, but it was a beautiful day and she started walking. It was only a 30 minute walk to FBI headquarters from Capital Women’s Care on K Street.

As she walked down Pennsylvania Avenue and around the President’s Park towards the Hoover Building, she grew more and more depressed. She thought of her long phone call the night before with Tara, who was excited over the twins. She had found out she was having two girls and was gushing over baby clothes, nursery designs, names, and all the little things expectant mothers think about and plan for. Tara and Bill had tried for years to get pregnant, and finally Matthew arrived. But the road to his arrival had been difficult and emotional. Tara wasn’t up for more years of struggle, and so she tried in vitro this time around. She was immediately blessed with two daughters who would be arriving in just two short months.

She thought of Charlie and Jennifer, who had tried a long time ago for a third child, but it had never happened and after two years of trying, they stopped. They decided that a third child just wasn’t meant to be, and they were content with their two beautiful boys. Then suddenly, without trying or even thinking about it at all, another baby was on the way. In the years after Melissa was killed, Scully would sometimes have vague, fleeting thoughts of hoping to name a daughter after her sister someday. The same had been true after her father’s death, and her hopes for a son in some unknown future that lay ahead of her.

But all that had changed two years ago when she learned she’d never be able to conceive a child. Now, when Scully thought of the future, there wasn’t much hope or security there. Several months ago, she had told Phillip Padgett that loneliness was a choice. But whose choice was she living? Did she choose to be lonely? Or did Mulder choose for her? Deep down, she craved unconditional love and was tired of being alone. She didn’t want to be lonely, but she was.

Scully then thought of Kresge, and knew that she didn’t have to be lonely. She could easily find sex and companionship whenever she wanted it. But she didn’t want just sex or just anyone to fill up her time. She wanted Mulder. There was no one on earth more perfect for her than him. She'd never be happy with anyone but him. So she’d rather be alone than have anyone but Mulder. And so, yes, she supposed loneliness was really a choice she herself had made.

*****

At 8:15 am on Tuesday morning, he unlocked the basement office door and walked over to his desk. He checked his emails and voicemail. There was a message for Mulder and Scully from the U.S. Attorney’s office informing them that the prosecutor for the Bernard Oates case, Assistant U.S. Attorney Ms. Stephanie Speno, would be coming by headquarters that morning at 10:00 am to meet with them. Mulder sighed.

Just after 8:30 footsteps could be heard in the hall approaching the office and Mulder smiled. But after a couple seconds he knew the footsteps couldn’t be Scully. It was a courier with the inter-departmental mail. The young woman handed Mulder the familiar yellow envelope and left the office. Mulder opened it and read a notice from the Finance Division informing them that the reimbursement form from their trip to Arizona had been sent to the Phoenix field office for verification. Blah, blah, blah. Where was Scully?

Mulder got up and pulled the file on Bernard Oates and Pamela Hamilton from one of the filing cabinets, and sat back down at the desk. While reading the case report, every couple minutes he’d glance at his watch and then at the clock at the wall. He drummed his fingers on the desk. He leaned back in the chair and sighed. The clock read 9:12 am. Where in the world was Scully? Mulder picked up the phone and dialed her cell phone. Straight to voicemail. He then called her at home. No answer and got the machine. Mulder hung up the phone and sighed again. He hoped she would show up by 10:00, but it's not like her to be so late. Mulder started to feel panic slowly rising in his gut, and he left the office to go look for her.

He rode the elevator to the fourth floor and walked to Skinner’s office. He asked Skinner’s secretary Kimberly if she had seen Scully at all that morning, but she hadn’t. Mulder walked back out to the hall and checked his watch; it was 9:26 am. He called her cell phone and her home phone again. No answer. Mulder stood there thinking with his hands on his hips. He remembered that last fall, when they were stuck working under Kersh, she had gotten kind of friendly with Agent Natalie Black who worked in the FBI bullpen on the third floor. She had occasionally met up with Natalie for coffee. He thought they might’ve even gone out to lunch a couple times. Mulder walked back to the elevator and pushed the down button.

He walked into the third floor bullpen and scanned the room for Agent Black. He was trying to remember what she looked like. He chided himself on not paying enough attention at the time.

“Agent Mulder?”

He turned to see a very pretty woman smiling at him. Mulder thought she couldn’t be older than 25 or 26. With her high heels on, she was just a couple inches shorter than him. Her long dark brown hair was held back from her face by an elastic band and was splayed across her shoulder. Her chocolate brown eyes obviously looked very happy to see him. Mulder remembered her now.

“Agent Black.”

“That’s me,” she said, still smiling, and stepping closer until she was standing just inches in front of him. Mulder had to take a step backwards. “But I told you to call me Natalie. What brings you down to the bullpen? Or should I say up? I haven’t seen your face around here in a long time.” She was still smiling at him.

He gave her a blank stare. “Um, yeah… have you seen Agent Scully? I can’t find her.”

Agent Black frowned. “No, I haven’t seen Agent Scully since a few weeks ago. I told her to say hello to you for me. I hope she remembered.” Agent Black was smiling again.

Mulder blinked. “Okay, well, thanks anyways. If you see her, tell her I’m looking for her.” He turned and quickly walked away back to the elevators. He pushed the down button to head back to the basement.

*****

Scully walked through the employee entrance to FBI headquarters, and then downstairs to the basement. The office door was locked. She went inside and set her bag down. Mulder wasn’t around. She noticed the file on Bernard Oates lying open on the desk. She picked up the phone and checked their voicemail. After listening to the message from the U.S. Attorney’s office, she hung up. She glanced at the clock, it was just past 9:30. Maybe Mulder had gone to see Skinner before their meeting with the prosecutor. She locked the office behind her and walked to the elevator.

She rode the elevator to the fourth floor and made her way to Skinner’s office. When she walked in, she was greeted by Skinner’s secretary who told her that Mulder was looking for her.

“Is Agent Mulder in with AD Skinner?” Scully asked.

“No, Agent Mulder left,” Kimberly replied.

“Okay,” she said, and turned to leave.

“Oh, Agent Scully,” Kimberly said, raising her voice slightly. Scully turned back to face her. “The meeting with the Assistant U.S. Attorney has been pushed to 10:15. The Assistant Director said that conference room 4-C down the hall will be available for your use.”

“Okay, thank you,” she replied, and walked out of the office.

Scully walked back to the elevator and pushed the down button.

On her way back down to the basement, the elevator doors opened on the third floor. Mulder turned around at the sound of the elevator, and greeted her with a look of relieved surprise.

“There you are. I've been looking all over for you,” he said, getting onto the elevator.

“Hi. Um… I'm sorry," she replied, averting her eyes from his gaze. "I had a doctor's appointment and… um… I don't know, I guess time just got away from me."

Mulder looked down at her, slightly worried. “Is anything the matter?”

“Nothing,” Scully said, still not looking at him. “No, I just… uh… went for a walk.”

He could tell something was bothering her, and he didn’t want to press her too hard into talking about whatever it is, but he felt that panicked feeling returning. “Hmm… then what’s wrong?”

She sighed. She had always tried to avoid this subject with him, and with everyone, really. But why? He was her dearest friend. Maybe she should take steps to share more of herself with him. She wanted them to be closer. She wanted things to change. But that would never happen if she was forever holding back.

“I'm sorry I haven't told you,” Scully said after a pause. “I don't know why I haven't. I mean, you were always there for me during my illness, but… um…”

Mulder was trying not to panic. She wasn’t making eye contact with him. His brain started coming up with horrible implications. What had the doctor told her? Was she sick? It couldn’t possibly be cancer again, could it? She was cured. What could it be? Something was definitely wrong. He leaned in closer to her, and spoke softly, not wanting to alarm her with the storm of anxiety that was now raging in his mind. “Don’t make me guess.”

“I was left unable to conceive with whatever tests that they did on me,” Scully quietly replied. “And I am… not ready to accept that I will never have children.” She couldn’t even look at him as she said the words. She wished it wasn’t so hard to open up and share her real feelings. It left her feeling embarrassed. She had always felt she had to be the strong one. She didn’t want Mulder to pity her.

He stared at the floor. The panicked feeling was gone, but had been replaced with guilt flooding his stomach. He thought of the Lombard facility where the Kurt Crawfords had showed him the stored ova. He thought of sitting in front of that judge almost two years ago to speak for Scully so she could gain custody of Emily. He remembered something that he had never told her. She deserved to know.

The elevator doors opened to the basement. He stepped out and turned to look at her. “Scully, there's, um… there's something I haven't told you either and I hope you… uh… forgive me and understand why I would have kept it from you.”

“What?” She couldn’t possibly guess what he was talking about. Her stomach was in knots. She had known for years that Mulder was prone to being secretive at times, to keeping things from her and only telling her parts of the whole.

“During my investigation into your illness I found out the reason why you were left barren. Your ova were taken from you and stored in a government lab.”

“What?!” Scully replied. “You _found_ them?” She knew that her ova had been taken from her during her abduction. He had said as much when Emily had been discovered. But he had never told her that he had actually found her stolen ova.

“I took them directly to a specialist who would tell me if they were okay,” Mulder said. He could see she was getting upset. He had never wanted to tell her. He had wanted to protect her.

“I don’t believe this,” she said. How could he have kept something like this from her?

“Scully, you were deathly ill and I... I couldn't bear to give you another piece of bad news.” The guilt was crushing him. She didn’t deserve to suffer any more than she already had. He should’ve told her before. Or maybe he never should’ve opened his mouth. Now he was just reopening wounds. He's a worthless piece of shit.

She could feel the tears welling up. She didn’t want to cry in front of him, make him pity her any more than he already did. “Is that what it was? It was bad news?”

“The doctor said that the ova weren't viable.” Mulder wanted the earth to open up and swallow him.

Scully seethed. She wanted to scream at him for keeping secrets, for not telling her something so important. And where had he been keeping her eggs all these years? In his freezer next to the frozen peas? For fuck’s sake.

She glared at him. “I want a second opinion.” Who knows what quack he had taken her ova to? She pushed the button for the fourth floor, and the doors started to close.

Mulder reached out and threw his hands to the elevator doors to stop them from closing. He didn’t know what to say. She was angry. He looked at her imploringly. He needed her to forgive him. But she could barely even look at him. He let go of the doors and let them close.

The meeting with the Assistant U.S. Attorney had been extremely uncomfortable. Scully refused to look at or speak to Mulder, and he wanted to be anywhere but in that conference room. He knew that she had been angry with him before, many times even. But this was different, he could feel it. He could sense her indignation as though it was seeping from her pores. After the meeting, he started to make his way to the elevator to head back down to the basement. He sensed that Scully wasn’t with him, and turned to see her walking into Skinner’s office without saying so much as a word to him. He thought it was the perfect time to take his lunch break. He walked to his favorite deli and bought a sandwich and a coke, but he couldn’t eat. His stomach was in knots.

How could he make this right? He should apologize again. Tell her again of why he couldn’t tell her the truth before. He couldn't stand to see her in pain. He wished nothing or no one would ever be able to hurt her. He wanted to keep everything evil and painful in this world as far away from her as possible. He loved her, and it broke his heart to see her suffer. He wanted to tell her all this, but maybe it would make her even angrier. She always balked at his protection, accusing him of not believing her to be capable. He knew she could take care of herself. He knew she didn’t need him, and she’d probably never want him now. He's one sorry son of a bitch.

When Mulder returned to the basement office after sitting at the deli for an hour, not eating, he found it empty. Maybe Scully had decided to take her lunch too. Maybe she waited until she knew he was in the building, so she could avoid him when she left. The office phone rang, and he picked it up.

“Hello.”

“Agent Mulder?” spoke a familiar female voice.

“Yes?”

“Assistant Director Skinner would like to see you as soon as possible.”

He now recognized the voice as belonging to Skinner’s secretary. “Sure thing. Tell him I’ll be right up.”

Mulder made his way back to the fourth floor and to Skinner’s office. When he walked in, he was half expecting Scully to be there, but no one was there besides Skinner and himself. Skinner directed him to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

Skinner eyed him, and paused. “Agent Scully stopped in to see me after your meeting with Ms. Speno. She left for the day, and she’s decided to take some personal time. She’ll be out the rest of the week. But she said she’d have no problem being at the district court on Monday for the start of the Bernard Oates trial.”

He stared. He felt panic rising in his gut again.

“Are you alright, Agent Mulder? I’m sure you’ll be able to handle things by yourself for the rest of the week. Right?”

He blinked. “Yeah. Fine.”

He then got up and walked quickly out of the office, ignoring Skinner’s calls for him to come back. When he arrived back in the basement office, he noticed he had a voicemail on the office phone. He picked up the receiver and pressed the button that was lit up with a small red light.

“It’s me. I’m taking the rest of the week off. I just need some time to myself. It’s probably good that we spend some time apart, anyways. I’ll be at the courthouse on Monday morning. Oh, and could you call me back and give me the name of that specialist who’s been in possession of my stolen ova for the past two and a half years? I won’t answer the phone, so just leave a message with the name.”

Mulder hung up the phone, and sat at his desk with his head in his hands. _‘Spend some time apart?’_ The panicked feeling was giving way to nausea. He couldn’t lose her over this, could he?


	19. "The truth has caused me nothing but heartache; I don't want the same thing for her."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully starts looking around for a second opinion, and then decides to confront Mulder, forcing them to talk some things out. Kind of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snow Patrol - "Run"
> 
> I'll sing it one last time for you  
> Then we really have to go  
> You've been the only thing that's right  
> In all I've done
> 
> And I can barely look at you  
> But every single time I do  
> I know we'll make it anywhere  
> Away from here
> 
> Light up, light up  
> As if you have a choice  
> Even if you cannot hear my voice  
> I'll be right beside you, dear
> 
> Louder, louder  
> And we'll run for our lives  
> I can hardly speak, I understand  
> Why you can't raise your voice to say
> 
> To think I might not see those eyes  
> Makes it so hard not to cry  
> And as we say our long goodbye  
> I nearly do
> 
> Light up, light up  
> As if you have a choice  
> Even if you cannot hear my voice  
> I'll be right beside you, dear
> 
> Louder, louder  
> And we'll run for our lives  
> I can hardly speak, I understand  
> Why you can't raise your voice to say
> 
> Slower, slower  
> We don't have time for that  
> All I want's to find an easier way  
> To get out of our little heads
> 
> Have heart, my dear  
> We're bound to be afraid  
> Even if it's just for a few days  
> Making up for all this mess
> 
> Light up, light up  
> As if you have a choice  
> Even if you cannot hear my voice  
> I'll be right beside you, dear

On Wednesday morning, September 1st, Scully made her way to the Columbia Fertility Specialists on M Street in downtown D.C. After waiting in the reception area for close to 20 minutes, she was met with a Dr. Rafat Khan. She followed him back to his office and sat in a cream-colored chair in front of his desk.

“Okay,” Dr. Khan said, after sitting down, and began reading off a clipboard that was in front of him on the desk. “I have your information here. We received the already-frozen vial of your ova on February 8, 1997. I verified that the frozen ova weren’t viable for insemination and IVF. Mr. Fox Mulder, your partner, asked that we store them with our egg bank. I told him it wasn’t necessary to store them, as the ova couldn’t be used for anything. But he insisted.”

She sighed. “And you still have them?”

“Of course we do,” Dr. Khan sniffed. “Anyways, you said that you wanted a second opinion.”

She noticed that he seemed affronted by her question. She didn’t mean to imply they were incompetent. “Yes, I’d like to have another doctor look into it. See if there’s any chance the ova can still be used.”

Dr. Khan looked at her carefully. “Ms. Scully… Columbia Fertility Specialists is constantly ranked as one of the top fertility centers in the country. Our physicians are board certified in the full spectrum of reproductive medicine, and we have spent years mastering the latest technologies and techniques available so that all of our patients can achieve parenthood. I don’t see how a physician from any other practice will look at your ova and give you a different answer than the one we’ve given you and your partner.”

She nodded. “I just don’t want to miss out on the chance to find out if there are still other options out there.”

Dr. Khan sighed, and looked at her sympathetically. “Well, okay then. We’ll just need you to inform us of the name of the physician you and Mr. Mulder will be using and then we can make arrangements to transfer your frozen ova to their facility.”

Scully blinked. Dr. Khan obviously thought her and Mulder were life partners. “Okay, I’ll let you know as soon as possible.”

She hadn’t found another doctor yet. She was glad to have taken the week off from work so she could devote her time to this. She wanted to be sure she found the right doctor.

Dr. Khan then walked her back out to reception. Right before she was about to say goodbye, Dr. Khan interrupted. “Ms. Scully… Dana, I hope you know that I wish you all the luck in the world. I hope that, if the time comes, you’ll consider coming back to us. We have a wonderful donor egg program here. I know it’s never anyone’s ideal to use an egg from an anonymous donor, but everyone deserves to have their dreams of parenthood come true.”

Scully swallowed. She felt her throat constricting.

Dr. Khan sighed. “I wish you’d seen the look on your partner’s face when I told him the ova weren’t viable. He looked heartbroken. I just want you both to know that there _are_ options available for the two of you.”

Scully blinked back tears. “Thank you, Dr. Khan.” She turned to go, but suddenly thought of something and turned back to the doctor.

“Dr. Khan, what about the fee? How much do I owe you for the ova storage?”

He gave her a puzzled look. “I think your partner already paid August’s bill,” he said before glancing down at the clipboard and lifting the top sheet of paper. “Yes, we got the check on August 14th. There will be no September bill if you transfer your ova by the 6th.”

She didn’t know what to say to this, so she just nodded and said goodbye before turning and leaving the building. Mulder had been paying all this time? He wrote out a check every month for her ova storage in the Columbia Fertility Specialists' egg bank and never once did he think to actually tell her of her ova’s existence? She didn’t know whether to feel touched or angrier than ever.

When she got home, Scully called Capital Women’s Care and asked to speak with her gynecologist, Dr. Rausch, but she wasn’t available. She left a message, and then decided to devote the rest of her day to cleaning her apartment. She scrubbed and polished and vacuumed until she couldn’t scrub, polish, or vacuum anymore. At 1:38 pm, Dr. Rausch was returning her phone call. Scully requested a list of the fertility specialists she recommended to her patients, and Dr. Rausch agreed to mail her the recommendations list by the end of the day.

As the sun set and twilight set in, she showered and sat on her couch. Mulder had made no attempts to contact her other than his brief message on her answering machine Tuesday afternoon telling her he’d used Columbia Fertility Specialists. She thought of everything Dr. Khan had said earlier that day. Maybe she should call Mulder. She was still angry, but she’d rather be angry and telling him she was angry, instead of not talking to him at all. Scully then bolted off the couch, slipped on a pair of shoes, and grabbed her car keys.

*****

Mulder was sitting in the dark on his couch, not bothering with turning on any lights. The television silently displayed images on the screen, but he didn’t try to comprehend what he was actually watching. He’d spent all day at work without Scully and he hated it. She hadn’t called him, not that he really expected her to. Every time he picked up the phone to call her, he reminded himself that she wanted him far away from her. What if over the course of the week she really started thinking? About her life and what he’d done to it? About how her career went down the toilet? Her sister’s murder, her cancer, her infertility? The various psychos and dark government forces who have threatened her life more times than he could count? What if she finally figured it out that he’s not worth it and he never was?

There was a knock at the door. He looked at the clock; it was 8:16 pm. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Instinctively, he grabbed his gun from his top desk drawer and walked towards the door.

Another knock. “Mulder, it’s me.”

He hesitated, but then opened the door to see Scully standing there with damp, wavy hair, and wearing black pants with a purple shirt. He stared at her.

“Can I come in, or what?” she asked testily.

Mulder sighed. “I’m not fit company.”

Scully pursed her lips. “I didn’t come here for company.”

She walked towards him, forcing him to step aside, and into the apartment. He sighed again as he closed his door.

She looked at her surroundings, and saw that no lights were on and the television was on mute. She looked back at him and saw the gun in his hand. Her eyes flew to his face.

Mulder furrowed his brows. “Scully, calm down. I only took the gun out when you knocked.” He walked back over to his desk and set the gun back in its holster, closing the drawer.

She flipped a light switch. There was nothing on the coffee table. She looked at his desk and only saw the computer, telephone, and some books. She glanced into the kitchen and there was nothing on the counters or the stove.

“Mulder, when was the last time you ate something?”

He thought about it. “I had a slice of pizza from Jerry’s at lunch.”

She knitted her brows. “But that was, like, eight hours ago.”

He sighed and sat on the couch. “So?”

She shook her head, and walked into his kitchen. She opened his fridge, rolled her eyes, and then closed it. She then walked over to the desk, sat down, and picked up the telephone.

“Hi, I’d like to place an order for delivery,” she said after she dialed a number.

“I don’t want to eat, Scully,” Mulder said in his dead tone.

She ignored him. “Yeah. One drunken noodles, one Bangkok fried rice with chicken, one papaya salad, and two spring rolls … Mulder … 2630 Hegal Place, #42 … 555-9355 … Okay, thank you.”

Scully hung up the phone. She turned in the chair so she could face him. He was bent over on the couch, his elbows on his knees, and staring at his entwined hands. She sighed, and looked at the floor. They sat like that, in complete silence, for the next 10 minutes. She was waiting for him to speak up, but then it became clear he would not be initiating conversation.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the ova, Mulder?”

He looked up at her. “I told you. You were sick. You were in that hospital in Allentown. Penny Northern had just died. I couldn’t bear the thought of telling you.” She’s still angry. God help him.

Scully nodded. She was trying to control her emotions. She didn’t want to fight. “But then I got better, Mulder. When I found out two years ago about my ovarian failure, you were the first person I told. I didn’t even tell my own mother until months later. Why didn’t you tell me then?”

He swallowed, and looked back at his hands. “I don’t know. I felt guilty, I guess.” Please just kill him now. He didn’t want to talk about this.

She stared at him, anger starting to blaze. She's gonna need a better reason than that _._ Then she continued, her voice becoming heated. “And when we learned about Emily, you came to San Diego and sat there and told that judge that during my abduction I was subjected to experiments that extracted all of my ova. Something I had no idea of until then, since you had kept that from me. _And still_ , you wouldn’t tell me that you had actually _found_ them, had them _tested,_ and had been paying a bill _every month_ to keep them stored in an egg bank for some unknown reason!”

He couldn’t even look at her. He's a real fucking piece of work. God, what could he say? How could he even put it into words?

“Well?” She had raised her voice now. “Are you going to explain yourself? How could you keep something like that from me? I mean, it’s unbelievable! And for over two years?! How _could_ you, Mulder?!”

He bounded up from the couch. “Scully!” he said, panicking. Then it all came pouring out before he could help it, and he was yelling back at her. “Scully, I couldn’t tell you! I didn’t _want_ to tell you! Because telling you would make it _real!_ And the thought of motherhood being taken away from you because they had abducted you to punish me makes me want to fucking stab myself! The idea of you never being a mother was just too painful! I didn’t want to _think_ about it! I didn’t want to _talk_ about it! I _hate_ myself over it! Is that what you want to hear? Is that explanation enough for you?!”

Mulder fell back onto the couch, elbows once again on his knees, burying his head in his hands. Scully’s eyes filled with tears, and she sat there in stunned silence.

She quickly wiped away her falling tears. She didn’t want him to blame himself. What could she ever say to make him not feel that way? “Mulder,” she said softly, almost a whisper. “It’s not your fault.”

_Like hell it’s not._

She waited for a reply, but none came. “Mulder, if the doctor told you that the ova weren’t viable, why would you pay to keep them?”

He sighed, still bent over with his elbows on his knees, not looking at her. “I didn’t want to tell you that I’d found ova that were useless. I thought if I worked hard enough, I’d find the answers to what they did to you and I could fix it somehow. The chip cured your cancer. Maybe there was something out there that would cure your infertility. I wanted to be able to tell you that you could still be a mother.”

Scully’s tears were now starting to flow freely. She got up from the desk, and moved to the couch to sit by Mulder. She snaked her left arm around his right, running the palm of her left hand slowly up his arm until it found his right hand, and threaded her fingers with his, leaning her head against his shoulder, and cried silently.

“I don’t deserve you, Scully,” he whispered.

“Mulder, don’t talk like that.”

“Scully, it’s true. The X-Files are _my_ life. You deserve so much more than that.”

She wiped away her tears with her right hand. “You deserve the same things I do, Mulder. Isn’t there anything you want out of life that isn’t in the X-Files?”

His stomach went into knots. Should he tell her how much he wanted her? How much he needed her? How he couldn't live without her? How much he wanted to make her happy? How much he wanted to fall asleep next to her every night and wake up next to her every morning? How much he wanted to hold her in his arms and feel her skin pressed against his? How much he wanted to please her? Should he tell her how much his heart aches at the thought of losing her, as if his heart would rupture and he’d bleed to death if she ever went away? How he’d do anything to prevent that from happening, even if it meant never taking what he wanted from her?

Mulder sighed. He's a goddamned coward.

A knock at the door signaled their dinner had arrived. He extricated himself from Scully and walked to the door, paid the delivery guy (“You better give him a decent tip, Mulder,” she called out from the couch), and set their dinner on the coffee table. He walked into the kitchen and pulled out two beers from the fridge, then grabbed two plates and silverware, and returned to the living room.

He picked up the TV remote and put the volume back on. “What do you want to watch?”

“Something funny,” she replied. She thought they could both use some laughter.

The clock had just struck 9:00 pm, and Mulder put the television on _The Drew Carey Show_. “I’m not sure if this qualifies, but I guess it’ll do,” he smirked.

While they ate and watched TV, Scully thought of her question to Mulder and his non-answer. Did he really want nothing else out of life than whatever was in the X-Files? Could she live like that? Forever? She wanted to leave, to go home and cry her eyes out. But she stayed, because maybe she'd come here for company after all. Because maybe she’d rather be miserable and be with Mulder, than be miserable and be at home all alone.


	20. “Well, just find yourself a man with a spotless genetic make-up and a really high tolerance for being second-guessed, and start pumping out the little Uber-Scullys.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully finds a fertility doctor. Mulder and Scully overhear a conversation, and awkwardness ensues. Mulder Angst. Scully gets shocking news.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog of the flashbacks from the episode "Per Manum" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coldplay – “X & Y”
> 
> Trying hard to speak and  
> Fighting with my weak hand  
> Driven to distraction  
> It’s all part of the plan  
> When something is broken  
> And you try to fix it  
> Trying to repair it  
> Any way you can
> 
> I dive in at the deep end  
> You become my best friend  
> I wanna love you  
> But I don't know if I can  
> I know something is broken  
> And I'm trying to fix it  
> Trying to repair it  
> Any way I can
> 
> Ooooohhh ooooohhh
> 
> You and me are floating on a tidal wave  
> Together  
> You and me are drifting into outer space  
> And singing…
> 
> Ooooohhh ooooohhh
> 
> You and me are floating on a tidal wave  
> Together  
> You and me are drifting into outer space
> 
> You and me are floating on a tidal wave  
> Together  
> You and me are drifting into outer space  
> And singing…
> 
> Ooooohhh ooooohhh

On Thursday morning, September 2nd, Scully received the list of recommended fertility specialists from Dr. Rausch. Columbia Fertility Specialists were at the top of the list. _Figures_ , Scully thought. Next on the list was the Parenti Medical Group in College Park, Maryland. It was a very large OB/GYN practice, with two medical directors, a board certified PhD specializing in andrology and embryology, six physicians with F.A.C.O.G. credentials, and two licensed clinical social workers, one specializing in fertility and the other in family planning/termination/adoption. Scully picked up the phone and dialed the office number.

After being informed by the receptionist that there were no appointment openings for a consultation with any of the physicians until the 23rd, Scully informed her of her situation with her frozen ova being stored with the Columbia Fertility Specialists and needing to transfer them by the 6th to prevent being billed for another month.

The receptionist placed her on hold, and upon returning after a few minutes, informed Scully that they would fax a transfer request to Columbia Fertility Specialists that day. Dr. James Parenti had agreed to evaluate her ova once they received the transfer. The receptionist also informed her that Dr. Parenti said he had a brief window available on the 10th at 12:30 pm to meet with her.

Scully bit her bottom lip. She would very likely be in the middle of the Bernard Oates trial next Friday. But she couldn’t pass this chance up. She couldn’t wait until the end of the month to find out. To hell with it. As Scully’s stomach filled with butterflies, she told the receptionist she’d be there.

The next morning, Scully was awoken by her phone ringing. After picking up her watch from the bedside table and noticing the time was 7:17 am, she grabbed her phone.

“Hello?” she said groggily.

“Agent Scully?”

It was Skinner. She sat upright in bed. “Yes, sir?”

He sighed. “I know you had asked for the entire week off, but… would you mind coming in to work today? Stephanie Speno wants to meet concerning the Bernard Oates trial.”

Scully rolled her eyes. “Again?”

“Well, she doesn’t want to meet with you, exactly. She’s nervous about putting Mulder on the stand, and she wants to run through everything again before the trial starts. She’s afraid questions are going to come up in the cross examination about how Mulder knew Oates had a bomb; why he asked you to bring Pamela Hamilton inside the bank. She’s concerned that Oates’ defense lies in the fact that Pamela Hamilton never would’ve died if Mulder hadn’t told you to bring her inside. Ms. Speno wants to be sure his testimony isn’t… cluttered… with his theories. She wants you to be there to make sure Mulder is, uh… cooperative.”

Scully sighed and shook her head. “I’ll be there, sir.”

“Thanks, Scully,” Skinner said before hanging up.

*****

She walked into the basement office just after 8:30 am to find Mulder sitting at the desk, checking emails on the computer. He looked up at her in surprise.

“Scully! What are you doing here?” Mulder gave her a small smile, but then his face fell. He hadn’t seen or spoken to her since that emotional Wednesday night. He felt sadness clench at his heart.

She could tell he still felt bad about what happened, and she suddenly felt a little awkward. “Skinner called me earlier. Stephanie Speno wants to meet with us again.”

Mulder shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I know. Looks like the trial isn’t going to get another postponement. Everything’s set to start Monday morning at 9:00 am.”

Scully nodded, and sat in the chair in front of the desk. She wanted to tell Mulder about the Parenti Medical Group, but maybe bringing the subject up again wouldn’t be such a good idea right now.

“What time will Speno be here?” she asked.

“Not until 10:00 am,” Mulder said, glancing at his watch. “Did you eat breakfast?”

She shook her head. “No, I didn’t have time.”

Mulder smiled, and turned off the computer. He wanted things to go back to normal after the past few difficult days they’ve had. He felt like something had torn between them, and he needed to fix it. “Let’s go.”

He got up from the desk, and Scully followed. They walked to a coffee house just a couple blocks away from the Hoover Building. Downtown Coffee and Tea was a favorite among a lot of the federal agents, as it had an outdoor patio outside and dim lighting inside, and so usually he avoided the place like the plague. But he knew that she was partial to their muffins.

As Mulder and Scully entered the coffee shop, they were greeted by the familiar dim lighting, hunter green walls with sparse artwork, dark brown oak hardwood flooring, black leather sofa and arm chairs facing the front window, and several high-backed dining booths on the right-side wall made out of the same dark hardwood and perfect for privacy.

Mulder ordered a coffee and a sausage, egg, and cheese bagel sandwich for himself as well as a green tea with honey and a low-fat blueberry banana nut muffin for Scully. After retrieving their order, they walked to the very last booth, and he sat on the side that was against the rear wall and facing the front of the coffee house. He slid all the way over to the right-side wall and glanced upwards at the booth in front of him, reminding himself that the top was well over his head. Scully smirked. Mulder obviously didn’t want to be seen by anyone, particularly any fellow agents. She got into the booth and slid over towards the wall so that she was facing him.

An awkward silence then pervaded over the table. Scully didn’t really know what to talk about. She wanted to talk to Mulder about transferring her ova to the Parenti Medical Group, discuss it with him. But she felt embarrassed. He probably didn’t want to talk about it ever again. Then she scolded herself for clamming up, when she really should be working on opening up. _Do it, Dana. Just tell him. Intimacy is a two-way street._

She pulled off a piece from her muffin and started to chew it. He sat drinking his coffee, and taking bites of his sandwich. She swallowed.

“So…,” Scully paused. “I found a doctor who said he’d take a look at the ova.”

Mulder’s eyes quickly met hers. He didn’t know why he felt surprised; she had told him she wanted a second opinion. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want her to get her hopes up, only to be crushed. But he knew he had to be supportive. He had to make things right between them.

“What’s the doctor’s name?” Mulder asked.

“Dr. Parenti. He’s one of the medical directors of the Parenti Medical Group in College Park. They came highly recommended by my OB/GYN.”

He nodded. “Well, I hope you get good news.”

Scully didn’t know why, but she felt like Mulder wasn’t completely sincere in that wish. Or maybe he didn’t believe that she would hear anything different from this doctor, and thought that getting a second opinion was a fool’s errand. She sighed.

Several loud female voices dropped into the booth behind Scully.

“Natalie, how could you refuse a date with Agent Morehouse?” said a high, loquacious voice.

The smooth, musical voice of Agent Natalie Black responded. “I’m just not interested.”

“Kelly, you should know that Natalie goes for the more strong, silent types,” another woman said. “And the _spookier_ the better.”

At this, Mulder and Scully locked eyes. He pursed his lips. She snorted and bit her bottom lip, trying to stop herself from giggling.

“Come on, Michelle,” said Natalie, slightly annoyed. “He’s not spooky.”

“Who are you talking about?” Kelly asked, puzzled. “Natalie, your face has gone all red.”

“Agent Mulder,” answered Michelle. “Natalie’s had the hots for him for almost a year.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Natalie sighed. “I tried almost everything, apart from blatantly throwing myself at him. He just doesn’t like me.”

“Who is Agent Mulder?” she asked, sounding confused.

“Come off it, Kelly,” Michelle responded, exasperated. “Everyone knows who Spooky is.”

“What do you mean, ‘spooky’?” asked Kelly. She then slightly lowered her voice. “Like, weird? As in, kinky?”

“Oh, I bet he is,” quipped Michelle. “All the weird ones are. I’m sure Natalie wouldn’t mind being tied to Agent Mulder’s bedposts, isn’t that right?”

“Michelle!” Natalie exclaimed, accompanied by nervous laughter.

Mulder sat wide-eyed, staring intently at his coffee cup on the table. Scully could feel her face reddening, and she covered her mouth with her right hand.

“Ooh, yeah, Agent Mulder,” said Kelly, in a tone of realization. “He worked in the bullpen for a while. His partner is the redhead, the really pretty one. Oh, yeah, he’s the agent that Stacey used to constantly bitch about.”

Mulder and Scully exchanged puzzled looks.

“Stacey? Stacey who?” Natalie asked.

“Kersh’s secretary,” Kelly responded. “The tall blonde.”

“The bitchy one,” Michelle added.

Mulder and Scully nodded at each other, not surprised. He knew that Kersh’s hatred of him had long since extended to his administrative staff.

“She doesn’t like Agent Mulder?” Natalie asked.

“Not since he fucked her and then, like, never spoke to her again,” Kelly answered bluntly. Michelle gasped, and started laughing in disbelief.

Scully stared at Mulder in shock. He vigorously shook his head and silently mouthed “No” over and over.

“What?!” Natalie exclaimed, sounding upset. “What did she say?”

“I believe she used the words ‘tiger in the sack,’” said Kelly.

“See? What did I tell you? Kinky.” Michelle kept laughing.

“Stop it, Michelle,” Natalie said edgily. She sighed. “This sucks, you guys.”

“He obviously prefers the bitchy type,” said Michelle. “I mean, he’s stayed with the Ice Queen all these years.”

Scully wanted to run from the table; she wanted to be anywhere but in that booth, listening to this conversation.

“Michelle, knock it off,” Natalie said firmly. “Dana is really nice. Don’t go around calling her that. It just makes it okay for the assholes around here to say it, and they only call her that because they know they can’t get in her pants.”

“Well, she’s probably got her hands full with Mulder,” quipped Michelle. Natalie sighed.

Mulder closed his eyes and hung his head.

“Hmm…,” said Kelly. “I didn’t get the impression that they were, you know, a thing.”

“I don’t know,” Michelle said, as though teasing. “What do you think, Natalie?”

“Well, most of the time there didn’t seem to be anything going on between them,” Natalie paused. “But then, sometimes I’d see Agent Mulder looking at her, and… I understood why he never paid any attention to me.”

“Well, maybe he’s not into agents,” said Michelle. “Maybe he’s just into secretaries.”

Natalie sighed.

“Uh… we have to get back, you guys,” Kelly said.

The three women quickly left their booth and headed out the door.

*****

Mulder pursed his lips. She stared at him, speechless.

“Scully, I did not sleep with Kersh’s secretary,” he said insistently. “I promise.”

She sighed. Of course he didn’t. “I know, Mulder.” Didn’t change the fact she’d been going around telling people he did, though.

Scully wasn’t into mind games, and she certainly didn’t want to play them with Mulder. But she was curious about his feelings, if things weren’t changing between them because he didn’t feel that way about her or if he just had no interest in having a personal life at all, with anyone.

“Maybe you should ask her out,” she said, looking at him thoughtfully. “She likes you.”

He gave her a confused look. “What do you mean, Scully? She obviously hates me.”

“No, Mulder. Not Kersh’s secretary. Natalie.”

He stared at her. She couldn’t possibly be serious. Why would she want him to go out with another woman? “She’s not my type, Scully.”

She gave him a dubious look, and then got out of the booth. “What are you talking about, Mulder? She’s exactly your type.”

He sighed, and exited the booth. While leaving the coffee house, he supposed that technically she was correct. His high school prom date, Christine; Lisa, his college girlfriend at NYU; Phoebe; Diana; they were tall brunettes. Even his casual encounters, very few and far between as they were, had all been tall brunettes. But on the other hand, Scully was wrong. The tall brunette was no longer his type. His type was Dana Scully, and there was only one of those. And it didn’t matter if she was tall, short, fat, thin, blonde, brunette or redhead, just as long as she was Scully. Other women weren’t even a consideration.

As they walked back to work, Mulder wondered if she really believed him about Kersh’s secretary. He hoped she did. Looking back, he’d always felt he had to explain himself whenever Scully found him in a compromising position with another woman, as though he was a defensive husband. He’d never understood, at the time, why he felt he had to defend himself or explain the situation, despite the fact that she never demanded explanations and tried to act like she didn't care. And what if he really had slept with Kersh’s secretary? He and Scully were not romantically involved, and he had every right to a sex life, which, technically, wouldn’t even be her business. But yet, he had this keen sense that getting involved with another woman would be a betrayal. For years it was something he couldn’t explain, and so he avoided thinking about it.

Mulder’s mind went into overdrive as he walked. In all honesty, he never really understood, until now, why he’d felt so betrayed by her one night stand with Ed Jerse; why he’d loathed Phillip Padgett as much as he did and in a way that had nothing to do with his normal detest for violent criminals: he had, unwittingly, entered into a committed relationship with Scully.

As Mulder and Scully approached the employee entrance of FBI headquarters, he wondered if she realized this too, and didn’t know whether he wanted her to or not. He wanted to love her, to show her how he felt, but how could he do so without harming her? Without harming their partnership? Without harming her reputation even more than he already had? What if their relationship did become physical? The FBI would gladly latch on to any valid reason to split them up, and they’d be handing one over on a silver platter. Not to mention the dark forces within the government that could potentially do much worse if they wanted to.

He and Scully had a relationship that, from the outside, appeared to be nothing more than an FBI partnership between two friends and colleagues, but in fact, was the most intensely devoted relationship he’d ever been in. Whatever he felt in his past relationships didn’t even come close to what he had with Scully. But what did he have with Scully, exactly? They were partners, they were friends. But it also wasn't that simple; it was more complex than that. How could he even possibly begin to define what they were? It was beyond definition. It was a relationship without any of the physical benefits, and yet he felt more deeply connected to Scully than any of the women he’d ever shared his bed with. His yearnings to share his bed with her were starting to create a dull, aching pain that was becoming a constant in his life, as he unsuccessfully tried to keep those feelings at bay.

*****

Over the course of the next week, Mulder and Scully sat in court for the District of Columbia v. Bernard Oates trial, and watched the jury selection process as well as the opening statements by the prosecution. As the Friday morning session came to a close on September 10th, she became increasingly more anxious. She was supposed to drive to College Park, Maryland to meet with Dr. Parenti at 12:30. This meeting could possibly affect her entire future. She tried hard not to think of how exactly her future might change. She didn’t want to get her hopes up. In reality, she was more than likely to get the same answer from Dr. Parenti that she got from Dr. Khan of the Columbia Fertility Specialists.

The judge called for a recess for lunch at 11:55 am and announced that court would reconvene at 1:30 pm with the opening statements by the defense.

“Where do you wanna go for lunch?” Mulder asked her.

Scully hesitated. “Um… I can’t go for lunch today. I have to drive to College Park to meet with Dr. Parenti.”

Mulder stared at her. He felt an indescribable sinking feeling. “Do you want me to come with you?”

She paused. Did she want Mulder there? What if she got good news? Or what if she found out it was hopeless? She didn’t think she wanted him around for either scenario. “No, Mulder. That’s okay. I’ll see you after lunch when I get back.”

Scully arrived at the Parenti Medical Group building on Oakhurst Avenue in College Park. As she sat in the waiting room, her stomach had gone into knots. She tried to prepare herself for the worst, and to remind herself that the worst was a reality she’d already been living with for the past two years. She sat there trying not to get her hopes up, but the thought that her future might not be as lonely as she thought it was going to be was proving too difficult to resist.

A door opened, and a doctor with gray hair and a dark goatee walked towards her, smiling.

“Ms. Scully?” he said as he approached her. “Got a good report for you. I've looked at the ova you've given me, and consulted with some of my colleagues. We all feel that with the proper approach we might be successful. Got a good chance to get you pregnant.”

 _Oh, my God._ She was stunned. She couldn’t believe it. Did Dr. Parenti really just say what she thought he just said?

She could feel tears welling up. “Oh... it's too good to be true.”

Dr. Parenti smiled. “I don't want to lay odds, but it's not out of the realm of possibility if we start soon.”

Scully looked up at Dr. Parenti in amazement. “We can start right away?”

“Well, you need a father, of course,” Dr. Parenti replied. “I can get you genetic counseling on finding an anonymous donor if that's what you want, unless you already have someone in mind.”

“Yeah... I, uh...,” she hesitated. “I just have to figure out how to ask him.”

Scully had been thinking about this for the entire 30 minute drive from the courthouse. But, deep down, she’d really been thinking about it ever since Mulder had told her about her ova. She knew this would be required, if there was any hope that her ova were viable. She knew she’d need the other half of the equation, the XY chromosome. And she knew the only person she could ever imagine asking was the other half of herself.


	21. “Now we all have a natural instinct to propagate.” … “Do we?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully requests something of Mulder. He makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glasvegas – “Euphoria, Take My Hand”
> 
> Heartbreak, I'm not holding your hand anymore  
> Why can't you understand?  
> Euphoria, take my hand  
> Euphoria...
> 
> Your ways, my ways  
> Never, always  
> The future, the past  
> The first, the last
> 
> Heartbreak, I'm not holding your hand anymore  
> Why can't you understand?  
> Euphoria, take my hand  
> Euphoria...
> 
> Right time, wrong line  
> Myself, I'm alien  
> I swear to God, lies and bad thoughts  
> 1, 2, 3, 4, let go
> 
> Heartbreak, I'm not holding your hand anymore  
> Why can't you understand?  
> Euphoria, take my hand  
> Euphoria...
> 
> I wish upon a falling star  
> I feel, never felt hurt, I hit  
> You hit me, sunshine a liking to our evil evening
> 
> Heartbreak, I'm not holding your hand anymore  
> Heartbreak, I'm not holding your hand, let me go  
> Why can't you understand?  
> Why can't you understand?  
> Why can't you understand?  
> Euphoria, take my hand  
> Euphoria, take my hand  
> Euphoria, take my hand
> 
> Euphoria...  
> Euphoria...  
> Take my hand
> 
> Euphoria...  
> Take my hand

Scully cried the entire drive back to D.C. from College Park. She was overwhelmed by too many emotions; anxiety, doubt, fear, excitement, hope. What had looked like a dark lonely future looming in front of her, now suddenly was growing brighter. But maybe it was too good to be true? Maybe she shouldn’t get too excited because it could all be for nothing. She tried to control her thoughts, not let herself get swept away by the possibilities.

But there was now a spark of hope when she pictured what her life could look like in a year, ten years, twenty. The chance to have a home with someone who loved and needed her, the chance to have a life that was real and meaningful, the prospect of having comfort and joy in her old age, the chance to possess unconditional love; this blossoming hope carried her all the way back to D.C. She left her car at the FBI parking garage, making sure to grab her umbrella as the light sprinkles of the morning had turned into heavier rain, and hailed a taxi for the quick ride to the courthouse entrance. She wished she’d worn a jacket; the temperature had fallen about 10 degrees since she’d left her apartment that morning.

At 1:28 pm, Scully was speed walking through the doors of the fourth floor courtroom. At the sight of Mulder, standing in their usual spot on the end of the third row and speaking to Ms. Speno, this blossoming hope gave way to fear. How was she going to ask him? What would she say? And what did she want from him, exactly? Just his sperm? If a child was going to be the end result of this, what she did want Mulder’s role to be? Did she want him to take some kind of responsibility? No. She could never ask that of him. How could she? She had no right to. But what would she tell this possible child about his or her father? Would she want Mulder’s name on the birth certificate? Or would he only be known to her child as the man that she worked with?

Deep down, Scully knew what she wanted. She knew what she wanted her life to be like. She knew who she wanted there. She knew that even if she was blessed with a child, if this new part of her life did not involve Mulder, it wouldn’t be whole. A deep sense of sadness suddenly engulfed her, and she blinked back tears. As the Honorable Warren Bender entered the courtroom and everyone began sitting in their seats, she watched Mulder turn a concerned expression to the doors of the courtroom. Her eyes locked with his, and she held his gaze for some seconds. Scully watched Mulder’s expression turn sorrowful as she hurriedly approached their row just as Judge Bender called court to session.

*****

Over the next three hours, Mulder grew more and more distressed. Scully would barely look at him. He struggled to pay attention to the opening statements made by Bernard Oates’ defense lawyer, Alexander Catalano. He thought that he never should’ve told her about the ova. She had gotten her hopes up, only to have them defeated. It seemed to him that he did nothing but cause her pain. Every awful thing that had ever happened to her was all because of him.

Mulder didn’t know what to do. He wanted to tell Scully to get as far away from him as she could. She could move somewhere, maybe to Baltimore or San Diego to be closer to her brothers and nephews. But who was he kidding? He was way too selfish for that. He would never seriously tell her to leave him. He needed her too much. Who would he be without her? Sometimes he could barely remember the person he was before she walked into his life.

That person was an empty shell of a man, going nowhere and accomplishing little to nothing. Scully had filled his life with purpose. Mulder thanked his lucky stars that they sent their “spy” to work with him. Instead, they gave him the best ally he could have ever asked for, the best friend he could’ve ever hoped for. They had no idea of the threat they were creating by sending Scully to him. And when they found out, they hurt her. They hurt her in order to hurt him. Because they knew. They knew how much he needed her. They knew he’d very likely give up without her. She endangered her life every day by staying with him, and yet she did stay, and never hinted at any plans to leave.

At 4:15 pm, the defense finished its opening statements. After a quick sidebar with Ms. Speno and Mr. Catalano, Judge Bender briefly addressed the jury, and then court was adjourned for the day. Mulder and Scully walked out of the courtroom and waited outside in the hall for Ms. Speno.

“Agent Mulder?” Ms. Speno said as she approached them.

Mulder and Scully turned to see her walk towards them carrying a briefcase, throwing her red trench coat over her left arm, and then running her hand through her shoulder-length golden brown hair.

“I’ve decided to make a slight change,” Ms. Speno continued as she came to a stop about a foot in front of them. “I think I want you to present your testimony first, instead of Agent Scully. Whatever happens in the cross examination with Catalano, and we can expect him to lay blame on your actions, Agent Scully’s testimony will then add more weight and credibility when she backs up what you’ve already said.”

Mulder nodded. “Okay.”

Ms. Speno eyed him. “This means you have one less day to prepare, as I’ll be putting you on the stand first thing Monday morning. I just need you to be clear on what you’re going to say and how you’re going to say it. Will you have time tonight to go through the direct examination again? The team is going to be pulling an all-nighter at FBI headquarters with the appointed attorney from the OGC. I believe Dave Shapiro is very interested in how you will portray the FBI on the witness stand.”

Mulder stared at her. Scully leaned to the right, and lightly bumped her elbow against his left arm.

“Yes, of course,” he replied, sighing.

Ms. Speno threw an annoyed look back and forth between Mulder and Scully. She shook her head as she started to walk away.

“Oh, Agent Mulder,” Ms. Speno said, turning back. “We’ll be meeting up at 5:30 pm.”

He glanced over at Scully. “Um, I don’t think I can make it by 5:30. I’ve got plans. But I can be there later.”

Ms. Speno pursed her lips. “How much later?”

He glanced over at Scully again. “Um… I’m not really sure. Depends on how long it takes.”

Ms. Speno once again looked between Mulder and Scully, her facial expression going from leery to comprehending. “Hmm... I see,” she said curtly. She rolled her eyes and walked away, mumbling “You’ve got to be kidding me” under her breath in annoyance.

“What was that about?” Scully asked him.

Mulder shook his head and sighed. “Who knows?”

They stood there for a few seconds, not talking and not meeting each other’s eyes.

“I suppose we should head back to the office,” she finally said.

*****

At 4:50 pm, Mulder and Scully were walking through the door to the basement office. She sat down in her usual chair while he sat at the desk, logging onto the computer to check his email.

“I got an email from Danny,” he told her. “Something weird from Ellens.”

“Ellens Air Force Base?” replied Scully. Ugh, not that place again. “Why was Danny even out there?”

“He wasn’t,” Mulder replied. “He just has a buddy who is stationed there. Anyways, the NSA informed the big boys up at Ellens that Zarya and Unity picked up on some strange signals being directed at the Arecibo Ionospheric Observatory in Puerto Rico. The NSA has so far failed to crack the codes of these signals and no one can determine from where they originated.”

She blinked. “Zarya and Unity… you mean, the International Space Station?”

He gave her a knowing look. “Yep.”

Scully stared at him. “If you think I’m going to Puerto Rico, think again.”

He snorted.

“And if you think you’re going to Puerto Rico again, Mulder, or back to Ellens Air Force Base, you can just change your mind right now.”

He leaned back in the chair, clearly frustrated. “Scully, this could _be_ something!”

She shook her head in disbelief. “We barely got out of there alive the last time, Mulder!”

At this, they heard a knock on the office door, and they looked to see Skinner standing in their doorway. Mulder quickly grabbed the computer mouse and closed his email.

“Hello, sir,” said Scully. “What brings you down here?”

Skinner looked around the office for a second. “Oh, just wondering how the trial went today.”

Mulder sighed. “It was okay, I guess. I mean, it’s court. So, not exactly mentally stimulating stuff.”

Skinner frowned and looked at Scully. She shrugged. She knew Mulder hated the trial process of the job, and he felt like sitting in a courtroom all day was a huge waste of his time.

“Anyways,” continued Skinner. “The real reason I came down was to let you know that you’re both being given a Public Service Award for preventing Bernard Oates from blowing up that bank. I know this seems last minute, since the ceremony is coming up on the 2nd, but the Bureau feels this is a good idea with the trial going on right now.”

Scully turned a surprised smile on Mulder. He nodded, giving her a half smile in return.

“So I expect you both to attend the FBI Community Service Awards Banquet next month.”

Skinner watched Mulder roll his eyes, and shot him a stern look. “And it’s mandatory. So get a tux.”

Scully grinned at the scowl on his face as he watched Skinner leave the office. “It doesn’t hurt to be social once in a while, Mulder.”

He scoffed. “I am social, Scully. I’m social with you. That’s all the human interaction I need.”

She rolled her eyes. Suddenly, her stomach filled with butterflies as this made her think of what she’d learned from Dr. Parenti earlier. Mulder was so solitary, and maybe a child was something he’d want absolutely no part in.

She swallowed. She had to tell him. Just tell him. What was the use? “So, you told Ms. Speno that you had plans and couldn’t meet up at 5:30. What plans are these?”

Mulder smiled at her. “I’m taking you out for dinner. Your stomach was growling all afternoon, Scully. You didn’t eat lunch, did you?”

She thought about it. “Oh, yeah… no, I didn’t get a chance.” She had barely got back in time from College Park as it was.

He turned off the computer, and then they made their way out of the office, Scully grabbing her umbrella and Mulder putting on his trench coat, locking the door behind them.

*****

At 5:32 pm, Mulder and Scully arrived at her favorite Friday-night restaurant in Georgetown, Doug’s Fish Fry. It was only two blocks from her apartment building. Sometimes on Friday evenings, when going for a run in her neighborhood, she’d inevitably wind up at Doug’s for her dinner. Mulder and Scully each ordered the fish and chips special upon arrival. Years ago, she always ate her fish and chips with tartar sauce. But then he introduced her to using just simple salt and vinegar with a splash of lemon, something he’d said he picked up during the three years he’d spent at Oxford earning his master’s degree in psychology.

Scully stood and watched Mulder sprinkle salt and squirt malt vinegar onto his basket of fish and chips immediately after receiving it at the counter, and then squeezing his lemon wedge over the food. She wondered what he had been like at Oxford. He rarely talked about it, and she had a sneaking suspicion it was because of negative associations brought on by Phoebe Green. She then wondered what his life would’ve been like if she’d been friends with him at Oxford, wondered if Phoebe would’ve still happened to him. Maybe, but maybe not.

Mulder and Scully took their baskets of food to one of the pub tables. While she crunched on her dill pickle, she was having an inner battle with herself on whether to bring up the news she got from Dr. Parenti. She still had no idea how she was going to ask him, and she was nervous that he would ask her what the doctor said. She was now thankful that Danny had sent him that email because it was all he seemed to want to talk about at the moment.

“Scully, this could get us going in the right direction.”

She sighed. “Mulder, it’s too dangerous. By the time you got down there to the observatory, there probably wouldn’t be anything left to find except guns pointed at your head. And I’m sure Ellens Air Force Base has developed a way of being alerted to your presence at the very moment you set foot in Idaho. Besides, we can’t skip town. Think of the Bernard Oates trial. Think of how Speno is counting on you, Mulder. Think of the Public Service Award that would go down the toilet.” Scully’s tone had taken on a phony sense of severity. She then grinned at him, and winked.

Mulder tried to keep a straight face, but he found her eyes, twinkling with mischief, too irresistible. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. He dropped the subject of strange International Space Station transmissions and Ellens Air Force Base. Despite Mulder and Scully now eating in comfortable silence, gazing at each other and smiling, underneath the surface she was one raging storm of anxiety and doubt, while another storm of guilt and desire raged inside him.

*****

Mulder drove Scully home, parking on the street across from her apartment building.

“Well, I suppose I should head back to headquarters for that all-nighter with Speno and friends,” he quipped. “I’m already an hour late.”

Scully nodded, but she didn’t make any move to leave the car. The sensation of butterflies had so flooded her stomach that she thought she might be sick. She had to tell Mulder. She had to bite the bullet and ask him. _You are not getting out of this car, Dana, without asking him. Do it. Do it NOW._

“Scully?” he asked, slightly confused. “You weren’t planning on spending the rest of your Friday night stuck at work, were you? You don’t have to be there.”

“Yeah… I know, Mulder.” God, why was this so hard? Why couldn't she just speak her mind? She shouldn’t be scared, it’s only Mulder. But… that’s precisely why this was so scary.

He was staring at her, but she couldn’t look at him and stared at her hands. “Um…”

“Scully…,” he spoke softly. “What happened when you went to College Park?”

She sighed, but she still remained silent. She knitted her brows, and stared fixedly at her hands in her lap. _DO IT NOW, DANA. TELL HIM._ But... how could she ask him?!

Mulder’s hand reached into her lap, taking her hand and holding it in his palm. “Tell me, Scully.”

She took a deep breath. “Dr. Parenti said that… it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility… that… the ova could be viable… and a successful pregnancy could be possible.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not,” she said with nervous laughter, and finally looked up at Mulder.

“That’s… that’s incredible, Scully.” She saw he was looking at her in wide-eyed amazement.

She swallowed. “The thing is, Dr. Parenti said I should start as soon as possible.”

“So I guess Puerto Rico is really out of the question now,” Mulder grinned.

She snorted, and looked again at her lap. “But, um…” _Oh, God._ “Dr. Parenti offered to set me up with genetic counseling to choose a donor but, um…” _Good grief, pull it together._ “I was thinking… I don’t really want to use an anonymous donor if I don’t have to. And so I was wondering… if you’d consider… donating your, uh… genetic material.”

Silence pervaded the car. “Scully, are you asking me for my sperm?”

She sighed, and covered her face with her hand.

He gave a short, breathy laugh, and pulled her hand away from her face. “Scully, I…”

She looked up at him. “No, Mulder, please don’t answer right now. Just… take some time to think about it? Okay?”

He nodded. Scully pulled on the handle, and opened the car door. “I’ll, uh… talk to you later. Oh, and thanks for dinner.”

Mulder gave her a half smile, and she got out of the car.

*****

They were all gathered in a fifth floor conference room at FBI headquarters to make sure that Mulder’s testimony didn’t feature any of his crazy ideas and that he portrayed himself as an exemplary representative of the FBI. The room was abuzz with legal talk and strategic planning. But as he sat in this room with Stephanie Speno and her legal team as well as Dave Shapiro, an attorney with the FBI’s Office of General Counsel, his mind was a million miles away. Actually, it was about 2.8 miles away in Georgetown, at 1419 31st Street NW, apartment #5.

He went through his testimony spiel for what felt like the hundredth time, answering all of Ms. Speno’s direct examination questions exactly as she expected him to. Her legal team threw different curveball questions at him, in an effort to guess how Bernard Oates’ lawyer would perform the cross examination. He cooperated and answered every question in a way that seemed to satisfy everyone else in the room. Mulder didn’t care about any of it. There were more important things on his mind.

At 8:50 pm, the prosecution team agreed to take a break, and they sent someone to get Chinese takeout for the group. Mulder excused himself, and headed downstairs to his office. He sat at his desk, pulling up the email from Danny. He planned on sending him a short reply, to ask him for more information if he ends up getting his hands on any. But he sat there staring at the screen, his mind on something else. He leaned over, resting his arms on the desk.

What if it really happened? What if Scully had a baby? It would mean an end to the X-Files, he knew it would. A baby would change everything. She would no longer be so courageously willing to enter into dangerous situations. She’d no longer be able to drop everything at the last minute and fly with him across the country to Nevada to check out an anonymous source. She’d be a mother. She’d have another life to consider. He couldn’t do this without her. He didn’t even want to. How far would he get? Not very. What would he accomplish? Not much.

But was he ready to walk away? There were still answers to find. There were still truths out there he’d yet to uncover. What about that spaceship? And the chip in Scully’s neck? He’d yet to fully expose the dark underbelly of the government, their secrets and lies, bring them to justice for their crimes against the American people. The Smoking Man was still out there somewhere, slithering in the tall grass like a snake, waiting to strike. What about the alien virus? The vaccine, a cure for whatever might be coming in the future?

What about Samantha? He still had no clear idea of the circumstances surrounding her abduction, or where she’d been taken, or where she was now. Cancer Man had showed him glimpses, but was anything that man ever said the truth? Were any of those women his sister? Or were they just clones? Alien-human hybrids? A poor man’s substitute for his real sister.

If Scully were to have a baby, and his work in the X-Files ceased, he’d never find Samantha. He knew that for certain. Was he ready to give up searching? Would he regret it if he did? He would live out the rest of his life not finding the answers. He would most likely go to his grave never knowing what had really happened to her. Would he be okay with that? He wasn’t sure.

Suddenly, Mulder remembered The Dream. The Dream where he deserted his quest for creature comforts; a life in the suburbs, with a wife and children; a place where everyone spoke lies to him. But he had Samantha. He had found her, and she was alive, and happy. The one thing he’d wanted every single day since the moment she’d been taken away from him almost 26 years ago, the one thing he’d been searching for, he’d finally found. But he’d betrayed and abandoned Scully in order to do so, and the end result was disastrous.

And so Mulder made his decision. Deep down, he knew that Scully had become the priority above and beyond his quest for the truth, his quest for his sister. He didn’t exactly know when that had happened, but he should have faced up to the truth when he traded his sister (or what he thought was his sister) for Scully on that bridge in Bethesda, Maryland over four years ago. Two years later, he once again traded the prospect of finding his sister to cure her cancer. And he still couldn’t admit it to himself: Scully had become more important.

She had sacrificed so much for him, and without ever blaming him for the hardships she’d endured. He couldn’t continue to force her to live a lonely life, a life where she was regularly endangered, for the sake of finding Samantha. Scully was unhappy, and he knew it. He’d known it for a long time, but chose to ignore it for his own selfish reasons; for the sake of the work, of the quest. And where did that get him? Mulder could find the answer to every single question he’d ever asked, but he knew he’d never be happy if she was miserable.

But if Scully was never in pain and never suffered, if she was never in danger, he could have some peace of mind. He was tired of being miserable himself; tired of the guilt, tired of the heartache. He was tired of the FBI and its bullshit. And Mulder suddenly could see a future that looked different from what it had looked like before. Most of the time, he tried not to think about the future in a personal way. But now he could see one start to unfold. The picture was cloudy and obscure, but he sensed that happiness might be within his grasp. If Scully was happy, if she acquired what she wanted out of life, it was possible that he could be reasonably happy too.

And Scully wanted to be a mother. He realized he held the power in his hands to make her happy. And so Mulder made his decision. He shut off the computer and got up from the desk, put on his trench coat, and headed to his car.


	22. "Take my hand. I am your father."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder informs Scully of his decision. Mulder goes to Connecticut to visit his mother.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from the "Per Manum" episode does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz, and belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Smiths – “Last Night I Dreamt Somebody Loved Me”
> 
> Last night I dreamt  
> That somebody loved me  
> No hope, but no harm  
> Just another false alarm
> 
> Last night I felt  
> Real arms around me  
> No hope, no harm  
> Just another false alarm
> 
> So tell me how long  
> Before the last one?  
> And tell me how long  
> Before the right one?
> 
> This story is old, I know  
> But it goes on  
> This story is old, I know  
> But it goes on

During the 10 minute drive from FBI headquarters to Scully’s apartment in Georgetown, Mulder started to feel a twinge of doubt and fear. A baby would change the dynamic between them, as the majority of Scully’s attentions would be directed elsewhere. He realized that he didn’t even know what Scully wanted from him, in the long term.

Would Scully’s child grow up not having a father? What if, God forbid, someone like Kresge swept in and took her away? Another man could potentially raise this child. Mulder hated the thought, it turned his stomach. But she had made no indication that she wanted anything other than a donor. Did he want to be a part of this child’s life? Did she even want him to be? Would the child know who he really was? Or would he only be known as “Uncle Mulder,” mommy’s friend from work? The thought filled him with dismay. He never really thought he’d have family of his own, too many bad memories from his youth. But… if a family were to include Scully, it might not be so bad. Mulder quickly pushed the thought away, before his insecurities and doubts could crush him.

And what if the opposite happened? What if the ova weren’t viable after all? Or what if his boys didn’t pass genetic muster and Scully was forced to use an anonymous donor? How disappointed would she be? And how awkward could things become? Would she hold it against him? But even if these factors all worked out, what if the process still failed? The possible heartbreak caused a pained expression to come over his face has he turned onto Scully’s street. Mulder was suddenly gripped by fear. What if this ended up causing friction between them? Either scenario had the potential to divide them.

Mulder sighed as he shut off the engine and sat in his car in front of Scully’s apartment building. He then thought of everything that had happened over the years, how numerous outside forces had tried their damnedest to separate them, and all proving unsuccessful. Now that he thought about it, the idea of a pregnancy, or a failed attempt at one, doing what the darkest forces imaginable hadn’t yet been able to do seemed absurd. But as he got out of the car and walked toward Scully’s building, nervousness filled his stomach.

*****

Scully had just finished cleaning the kitchen, and was walking out to the living room, when there was a knock at her door.

She opened her door to see Mulder standing there. She found that she wasn’t at all surprised to see him there, even though she knew he was supposed to be at work. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Mulder said, smiling.

“Uh… come on in,” Scully said, backing away and opening the door wider for him to walk through, before closing it. “Can I take your coat?”

“No, I can’t stay,” he replied. “I gotta get back to the office for a while.”

Mulder glanced at her awkwardly, appearing to not know what to say, how to begin the conversation. She decided she should probably take the lead here. “Obviously you've had some time to think about my request.”

“Um, it’s…,” he replied, looking her in the eyes. “It’s not something that I get asked to do every day. Um…”

Scully closed her eyes. Oh, no.

“But I am absolutely flattered. No, honestly.”

He’s trying to make light of the situation, his classic defense mechanism. God, this was so embarrassing. “Look, if… if you're trying to politely say ‘no,’ it's okay,” Scully said, averting her eyes from his face. “I, I understand.”

“See as weird as...,” Mulder paused. “This sounds, and this sounds really weird, I know, but I, I just wouldn't want this to come between us.”

“Yeah,” said Scully softly, her voice becoming almost a whisper, and looked down at her hands. “I know… I, I understand. I do.”

She knew it was too good to be true. What was she thinking asking him for something so personal? Oh, God, she's going to cry in front of Mulder. No, no, no. Don’t look at him. Scully knew Mulder could obviously see the disappointment. It was written all over her. But she was trying desperately to hide how hurt she really was. Scully saw his hand coming toward her face, and looked up to see him still staring intently at her.

“But… the, the answer is ‘yes.’” Mulder had an indescribable look on his face. She thought he looked happy. She couldn’t tell, exactly. But she could see that his eyes were full of tenderness.

Wait, what? _Oh, my God._ Did he really say “yes?" She couldn't believe it. He would really do this for her?  _Oh, my God._

Tears were now welling up in Scully’s eyes. She stepped forward and threw her arms around his neck, and felt his arms wrap around her back and hold her. She didn’t think she had ever loved Mulder more than at this moment.

She let go of him, but didn’t really know what to say to express how happy she felt. She had a fleeting notion of just coming out and telling Mulder that she loved him, but quickly squelched that idea. She felt awkward enough as it is, and she lacked the courage.

“Um... well, I'll call Dr. Parenti and...,” Scully looked at Mulder, who was nodding and smiling at her. “I assume that he'll want to meet you and go through the, uh, the donor procedure.”

“Oh, at that part, I’m a pro,” he quipped, as he turned toward her door.

 _Right._ Scully smiled, somewhat shyly. Mulder gave her a small smile before leaving.

Scully sat on her couch, and cried tears of joy. But after a minute or two, she started to reign in her feelings; reminded herself that this could all be for naught. There was still a huge chance that nothing would come of this. She had to remind herself that her chance for a successful pregnancy was likely a very low percentage.

Then Scully thought about Mulder’s crack before he left her apartment. What did he mean exactly by “at _that_ part” he’s a pro? What other parts to this was he not a pro at? Scully realized that she had never even had a conversation with him about what exactly she was asking of him, what her plans would be if it worked, and about how involved he did or didn’t want to be. Yet, he’d agreed to it, without knowing any real details. She wondered what Mulder expected.

*****

Over the weekend, Scully debated whether she should inform her mother about her plans to try IVF. In the end, she decided not to. She would only tell her mother if the procedure proved to be successful. She’d hate to see the looks on her family’s faces if she told them all what she was doing, and then it failed. Scully also knew that telling her family about attempting IVF would induce questions about the sperm donor and his involvement, and she wasn’t sure how she would handle that. How could she answer their questions when she didn’t even know herself? If, in the rare chance, it was successful, she still had no idea what kind of arrangement she would make with Mulder. It was something they definitely needed to talk about.

Early on Saturday morning, Mulder called Scully to tell her that he was driving up to Connecticut to visit his mother for the weekend. Scully guessed that Mulder probably just wanted to get away from Stephanie Speno and her prosecution team. This assumption proved to be correct when Speno called her around 11:30 am on Saturday, wondering where Mulder was because she had told him that they were going to be holed up in the U.S. Attorney’s offices all weekend preparing. Scully told her that something had come up and Mulder had to drive up north to see his mother. Speno was obviously irritated. Scully hung up the phone slightly amused.

Later that night, as she stood in the bathroom brushing her teeth before bed, the seed of an idea crept into her mind, took root, and sprouted. As she slowly lowered her toothbrush to the sink, she stared at her reflection in the mirror with strange sense of dawning realization. He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t! Oh yes, he would. She walked quickly into her bedroom, and after picking up the phone, called Mulder’s cell.

“Hello?”

“Mulder?”

“Hi, Scully. What’s up?”

“Mulder, where are you?”

“I’m at my mother’s house, Scully. Where else would I be?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Puerto Rico, maybe. Or Idaho.”

Mulder gave a breathy laugh. “Scully, I’m in Greenwich. Would I ever just run off somewhere without telling you first?”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Okay, so maybe I have done that in the past… once or twice. But I really am in Connecticut. How about you hang up, and then call my mother’s home phone number.”

Once or twice, huh? Good lord. “It’s after 11:00, Mulder. I wouldn’t want to wake her up.”

“That’s okay. I’ll pick up on the first ring.”

Scully sighed. “No, Mulder, it’s… Never mind, I believe you.”

He chuckled.

“So how’s your mother doing?” Scully turned down the bed, and got in, sitting up against her pillows.

“Um… she’s okay now, I guess.”

Scully grew worried. “What happened? She’s not sick, is she?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. Her health seems fine, really. But, um… we had an unpleasant conversation earlier.”

“What about?” Scully’s face fell. Mulder’s situation with his parents always made her feel unhappy. She sometimes wished that he had had the happy childhood that she had. But then again, Mulder is who he is because of exactly what happened in his childhood. And for all his faults, she wouldn’t change him.

“Samantha. My dad.”

Scully closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mulder.”

He sighed. “Scully, can I make a confession?”

“Um… of course.” Where was this going?

He hesitated. “I hate it here.”

“Oh, Mulder,” Scully pouted.

“I wanted to get out of the city, and I knew I hadn’t seen my mother since the 4th of July weekend. This is the only place I have to go, just my mother’s. I don’t have anyone else.” Mulder sighed. “I wish you were here, Scully. Actually no, you wouldn’t want to be here either. I wish I was there with you.” He chuckled.

She wished he was there with her, too. She gave a small smile into the phone, but said nothing.

“Well, I should let you go,” he said. “I’ll see you Monday morning.”

“Goodnight, Mulder,” Scully said before hanging up the phone.

*****

_Mulder was walking down the beach. He came upon the familiar large sand UFO. The boy was there, and for the first time in months, he wasn’t crying. He wasn’t afraid. He was happy. He knelt down on the sand and helped the boy sculpt the UFO. Suddenly a breeze stirred, and he could smell something sweet, like vanilla or maybe clover. Scully. She was here somewhere. He had to hold her, he had to touch her. Mulder stood and looked around, but couldn’t see her anywhere. The boy smiled and pointed to the woods._

_He walked a path that had become familiar to him since that first day he’d found Scully in these woods, wearing that yellow sundress. He’d walked this path countless times since that day. All of a sudden, night had fallen and he came upon a cabin, the cabin he’d been coming to almost every night to be with Scully. The scent of sweet clover was stronger. Mulder knew she was just inside the door.  
_

_Mulder opened the door, and was greeted with a warm glow. Scully was there, wearing powder blue silk pajamas, standing next to a warm fire burning in the hearth. There were candles on the bedside tables. She turned to look at him, and the radiant brilliancy of her electric blue eyes filled him with elation. She smiled wide, and rushed towards him. His arms were around her, touching, groping, kneading whatever he could get his hands on. She was franticly pulling his shirt over his head, while he ripped her clothes from her, buttons flying to the floor._

_Suddenly they were on the bed, and she was spreading her legs for him. He settled between them and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight to her. She whispered in his ear, “I love you, Mulder.” He groaned, frenziedly jamming his hard member into the wet heat of her center. Every night was the same, as though he’d never experienced such a sensation before in all his life: the slick, warm softness combined with a tight pressure that made him feel like he would either cry or burst into flames. She was moaning his name, and panting “give me a baby, Mulder… you’re the only one who can” in his ear. “But I don’t know how,” he told her. Her eyes brightened, and she smiled, saying “yes, you do… you're the only one who can do it.” He thrust harder; pure ecstasy was within his reach, he was almost there.  
_

_The fire went out in the hearth, and a wind that seemingly came from nowhere blew out the candles. Everything darkened. **No. No, no, no, no, no, not again. He can’t take her!** The Smoking Man was in the cabin, pulling her away from him. Mulder tried to move, to lunge from the bed and attack him, but he was frozen. Cancer Man was sneering at him, saying “she wants a baby, Mulder.” Scully was frantically struggling against his grip, but Mulder couldn’t move. He locked eyes with Mulder, touching the scar at the back of her neck with his forefinger, saying “I’d love to be a grandfather.” Scully’s loud screams filled the cabin._

Mulder awoke in a cold sweat, panting hard. He bolted upright in the bed in his mother’s guestroom, hot tears filling his eyes. He grabbed for his cell phone on the bedside table.

*****

A loud ringing sound jarred the still night air, and Scully woke with a start, reaching for her cell phone underneath her pillow. The clock on her table read 4:22 am.

“Mulder?”

She could hear heavy breathing, and then a stifled sob. “Scully…”

She sat up, and turned on the light. “Mulder, what’s wrong? Is it your mother?”

The only response she got was more sobs. Fear sunk its teeth into her heart. “Mulder, do you need me to come up there?”

“Scu… Scully,” he cried, struggling to speak. “Are you… sure… that you… want me?” He continued to sob into the phone.

She didn’t know how to answer that. “Mulder, what… what are you talking about?”

“But you don’t know,” he cried. “You don’t know.”

“What don’t I know, Mulder?” She got out of bed, and started mentally making preparations in case she needed to leave for Connecticut.

“My DNA… is bad, Scully,” he said miserably. “You don’t… want it. It’s… poison.”

What in the world? She walked to her closet and grabbed her weekender bag. “Mulder, tell me what’s happened.”

He started to reply, but his voice became choked with continued sobs.

“Mulder, I need you to calm down and take a deep breath… Come on, breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.”

Scully listened as his breathing became slower, controlled. His sobs soon halted.

She sat back down on the bed. “Okay, Mulder. Talk to me.”

“Scully… the Smoking Man, he’s my father.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. “Mulder, why would you think that?”

“I don’t ‘think’ it, Scully. I know it. He is. Remember, a few years ago, I started to retrieve those suppressed memories from my childhood. He was there, when I was a kid. He was around. I saw him with my mother, and I just know it’s the truth.”

She sighed. “Yes, I remember. But, if _you_ remember, Mulder, you were also drilling holes in your head, so you really shouldn’t trust those memories.”

“Scully, he told me himself when he took me from the hospital. He’s my father. If you have a child, Scully, it will be tainted. I have his DNA. You don’t want that. You don’t want me.”

She closed her eyes and sighed, rubbing her fingers across her forehead. Did this really change anything? Mulder seemed to think it would. But did it really matter to her who his biological father was?

“Okay, well, you have his DNA. Do you believe that you are tainted by it, Mulder? Because I don’t.”

He sighed into the phone.

“Mulder, you are nothing like him, at least not in the ways that truly matter in life. He’s a coward and a liar, who would selfishly save his own skin at the expense of the rest of the world. He is cruel and deceitful, and there is not an ounce of love or decency in his heart.”

He made no attempt at a reply, and just sighed again.

“And Mulder, you… you are the best man I’ve ever known.”

Silence. “Scully, I’m gonna drive home later this morning, after I try to get a few more hours sleep. I should be back in D.C. by mid-afternoon. Do you have plans for today?”

“Well, I have church in the morning,” she paused. “But I’ll be back home after lunch. Why?”

“You’re going to church, Scully?”

“Yes,” she replied. “You told me not to count out God, remember?”

He snorted. “Right. Okay, well, when I get back, um… can I hang out at your place?”

Scully smiled into the phone. “Of course, Mulder.”

“Great. Speno might be watching my apartment to see when I get home. I’ll, uh… see you later, then. I’m going back to bed.”

“See you later,” Scully said, before hanging up the phone. As she shut off the light, and lied back down in bed, she wondered what could’ve gotten Mulder into such a state. She then remembered he had mentioned an unpleasant conversation he’d had earlier with his mother. She often wondered how Mulder had turned out so brilliant when he was raised by such ineffectual parents. Maybe DNA did play a small role in his make-up, but she didn’t think she could ever begin to explain how someone as exceptional as Mulder developed from such ignoble roots.


	23. “You were here today, looking for truth that was taken from you, a truth that was never to be spoken, but which now binds us together in dangerous purpose.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully has her IVF procedure. Her and Mulder keep busy while they await the results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aqualung - "If I Fall"
> 
> Swept away  
> By the wonder of it all  
> So amazed  
> Never saw it coming  
> Left me dazed  
> And I don't know where to turn
> 
> Here and now  
> Seems I'm standing on the edge  
> Looking down  
> I can clearly see your face in the crowd  
> Makes me feel I'm not alone
> 
> If I fall, if I fall, if I fall, will you catch me?
> 
> Seems to me  
> I'm exactly where I dreamt  
> I would be  
> And the view from here is something to see  
> But I need a hand to hold on to
> 
> If I fall, if I fall, if I fall, will you catch me?  
> If I fall, if I fall, if I fall, will you catch me?
> 
> If I fall, if I fall, if I fall  
> (Will you catch me, make it alright, 'cause I'm standing, on the edge now, see your face and)  
> Will you catch me?
> 
> If I fall, if I fall, if I fall  
> (Will you catch me, make it alright, looking down I, see your face, yeah, if I fall now)  
> Will you catch me?
> 
> If I fall, if I fall, if I fall... will you catch me?

At 4:05 pm on Sunday afternoon, September 12th, Mulder arrived at Scully’s apartment after his drive back from Connecticut. He sat in her kitchen while she cooked dinner for them; penne with vodka sauce. He helped her set the table, and then grabbed the bottle of white wine from her fridge and two wine glasses.

“Oh, Mulder,” said Scully. “I can’t drink.”

He gave her a puzzled look, and then understood. “At all?”

“Not during the IVF process, no,” she replied.

He put the glasses and the wine away.

“You can still have wine, if you want, Mulder.”

“Nah,” he shrugged. He walked to another cabinet and pulled out two acrylic water glasses.

Mulder and Scully sat down to dinner, each wanting to broach the subject of the IVF attempt, but not quite knowing how. So they talked about everything but. Fear held them back; Scully’s fear that he wanted no personal involvement if she became pregnant, Mulder’s fear that she didn’t want him involved. They were afraid to find out, and this fear was so overpowering it prevented them from even asking the question.

In reality, the fear stemmed from something else entirely, from what was buried beneath the surface: their real feelings for each other. Deep down, Scully’s subconscious directly connected Mulder’s decision about how involved he’d be in the potential pregnancy with his feelings about her. If he wanted no personal involvement, then it was clear how he really felt about her. She was his friend, and any thoughts of her becoming more than that were foreign to him. In turn, Mulder felt that if Scully didn’t want him to have any part in the life of her child, she didn’t feel the same way about him as he felt about her. The idea terrified them, and so they’d rather not know, yet still knowing full well this conversation loomed ahead of them if the IVF procedure were to succeed.

On Monday, Mulder and Scully were once again in the fourth floor courthouse in one of the D.C. district court buildings. Stephanie Speno’s direct examination of Mulder in the morning went by without any hiccups. When Judge Bender adjourned court for lunch recess, Scully once again drove back to College Park, Maryland to meet with Dr. Parenti.

“Okay, Ms. Scully,” Dr. Parenti said to her as she sat in an exam room. “Now, with normal IVF procedures, we start by giving the woman hormones for ovarian stimulation, so that we can collect viable eggs. However, your ova have already been collected. But, you clearly haven’t ovulated in a very long time and it’s been over two months since your last menstrual cycle. Even though your hormone levels are good, I’m going to start you on a 10-day treatment of estrogen and progesterone to strengthen your uterine lining before we begin embryo transplantation.”

Scully nodded. “Okay.”

“I also spoke with your partner this morning and he’ll be coming in this Wednesday evening, on the 15th, to give us a sperm sample.”

She felt her face redden slightly, and she nodded.

“On the 17th, we’ll perform insemination. Hopefully, in four days’ time we’ll have at least three healthy embryos to choose from and on the 20th we can perform the embryo transplantation."

Scully gave a small smile, feeling herself get excited. But she then chided herself. This could all be for nothing. _Don’t get your hopes up._

“Then, after 12 days, we’ll have you come in and we’ll give you a pregnancy test.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay. Thank you so much, Dr. Parenti.”

He smiled warmly at her. "I can’t say the chance is very high that your ova will produce enough healthy embryos, but it’s far from impossible and it’s definitely worth a try.”

Scully nodded, feeling herself getting nervous.

*****

On Wednesday, another long day in court ensued. This time Scully was put on the stand and she gave her testimony concerning the events that had occurred on that day back in February at Cradock Marine Bank. At 4:45 pm, court adjourned for the day. Later that night, Mulder called her when he returned home from College Park.

“Well, Scully… I, uh… deposited my sample.”

She laughed nervously. “I’d ask you how it went, but I won’t.”

He chuckled. “It was painless.”

“Uh-huh,” she said. God, this was so embarrassing.

Scully didn’t really want to think about Mulder masturbating. Usually, this thought only made her sad. There were times over the years when she’d come by his apartment in the evening, unexpectedly or earlier than anticipated, and she could hear through the door what was unmistakably an adult film playing in his living room. She’d knock on the door, and then she could hear him scrambling, possibly tripping over furniture or his shoes, the sound from the TV silenced, and Mulder calling out that he’d be right there. Thankfully, this hadn’t happened at all in recent memory. But the thought of him, sitting in his living room alone and touching himself, when he easily could have the real thing anytime he wanted, had always made her feel sad. She wasn’t really sure why it made her feel that way, but then she’d quickly push that feeling aside before she could think about it too much.

Now, the thought of Mulder touching himself to orgasm made her feelings a jumbled mess. Sure, she still thought it was kind of sad, but she was also overcome with a desire to watch him do it, making her feel very uncomfortable. She desperately tried to push the images that her mind was producing far away from her as Mulder spoke on the phone about everything Dr. Parenti had explained to him about the IVF process.

On Thursday morning, the 16th, Dr. Parenti called Scully on the phone to tell her that they’d decided to inseminate seven of her eggs in hopes to have one to three healthy embryos for implantation. She could feel the excitement growing in the pit of her stomach, despite her inward battle with herself to not expect too much.

Also on Thursday, Bernard Oates’ defense began its presentation of evidence. To everyone’s chagrin, his defense laid in the supposition that Mulder was a crazed man with weird ideas who dragged Pamela Hamilton into the bank, forcing her to get shot by Oates. To Mulder’s extreme displeasure, he was once again called to the stand. Fortunately, Oates’ defense lawyer, Catalano, didn’t have much ground to stand on as Judge Bender frequently threatened him with contempt for continuing to mention Mulder’s “crackpot” history on the X-Files as a way to prove that his actions in the bank were questionable and that Pamela’s death could’ve been prevented. Each time the judge threatened contempt, Oates became increasingly distressed. At the end of the day, Ms. Speno mentioned to Mulder and Scully that Oates was now requesting a deal. He thanked his lucky stars that the trial would soon be over.

*****

Early on Monday evening, September 20th, Mulder drove with Scully to College Park. She hadn’t asked him to come along, and he hadn’t mentioned to her that he wanted to go with her. But after leaving the basement office and walking to the parking garage, he followed her to her car instead of making for his own vehicle and driving home. He didn’t say a word and she didn’t question it.

Upon arriving at the Parenti Medical Group shortly before 6:00 pm, Dr. Parenti then greeted Scully and Mulder in the waiting area and brought them back to his office.

As they sat down at Dr. Parenti’s desk, he threw a warm smile in their direction. “I have some very good news for you.”

Scully went wide-eyed, her mouth falling open, and her hands started shaking in her lap. Mulder reached over and held one of her hands in his. She couldn’t look at him. She thought that if she looked at him, she would burst into tears.

Dr. Parenti smiled at them. “Two of the inseminated eggs have become healthy embryos. So if you’re ready, we can do the embryo transfer now. Then we’ll have you come in on Friday, October 1st after you get out of work, and you’ll take a pregnancy test.”

“Oh, my God,” Scully breathed, blinking back tears. Mulder held her hand tighter. She turned to look at him, and he was smiling at her, his eyes full of emotion. She smiled in return, and then turned back to the doctor.

“I hope you’ve been drinking a lot of water today,” Dr. Parent smiled at her, getting up.

“Uh, It’s important to have a full bladder to allow ultrasound guidance for the transfer,” he said to a confused Mulder. He nodded his comprehension.

Scully chuckled. “Yes, I have.”

“Good,” he replied.

They followed Dr. Parenti out of his office. Mulder went to the waiting room, while Scully was directed to a medical exam room.

*****

The next 12 days proved to be excruciating. Anxiety, doubt, and fear were constants within the minds of both Mulder and Scully. They still hadn’t had a conversation about what they wanted, or what their plans were, if they found her to be pregnant. He supposed this was a good thing, in case the IVF failed. Why plan for a future that may never come?

Fortunately, they could use work to take their minds off the waiting game. Mulder was called in by the Behavioral Science Unit to act as a consulting analyst on a high profile case. A serial killer had emerged on the streets of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and had killed several young men, their bodies found with signs of torture and mutilation. Upon the discovery of the seventh victim in as many months and virtually no suspects, the FBI had been called in to take over the case from the state police. The FBI investigation had ended up taking on the atmosphere of a manhunt, but with no man to hunt down. An eighth victim was found in the dumpster behind an abandoned apartment building. The FBI still had no suspects.

Mulder assumed that it was out of desperation that the Behavioral Science Unit called him for his help, almost pleading with him to come to Pittsburgh. Scully told him that underneath the derision he may receive from his peers, deep down they knew he was brilliant and would stop at nothing to find the truth. And that’s why many scorned him, because they believed he was wasting away his talents, and he could do amazing things if he buckled down and got some career ambition. He'd scoffed at her, but he did go to Pittsburgh, and it was his criminal profile that helped SAC Gary King and his investigative team find the killer and make an arrest before a ninth person could fall victim to his crimes.

Scully was also keeping busy. Another criminal investigation had discovered a mass grave in rural Virginia. Twenty seven bodies, male and female, young and old, had been found in Culpeper County on the 145-acre property of one Jerome Baker, the leader of a small independent church called “The Adoration of the Inevitable Promise.” Jerome Baker was found two hours later attempting to fly to Mexico out of Dulles International Airport. All 27 bodies were then sent to Quantico to be autopsied, and the head pathologist requested Scully to assist them with the workload.

On Friday afternoon, October 1st, she could still be found at Quantico deliberating with the other pathologists on their autopsy reports for all 27 victims. At 4:13 pm, her ringing cell phone told her Mulder was on the line.

“Hello.”

“Scully?”

“Hi, Mulder.”

“I’m at the Pittsburgh airport, boarding my plane now, and on my way back to D.C. I should be arriving at Dulles just after 5:30. I can meet you at College Park.”

She hesitated. “Mulder… I’m only going to take a pregnancy test. It’s only going to take a few minutes. There’s no point in rushing from the airport to meet me there when it’ll be over by the time you get there.”

“Well, then I can meet you at your apartment,” he said.

Scully bit her lip. She didn’t know if she wanted him around when she learned the news. If it was bad news, she’d want to be alone with her grief. She didn’t want to break down in front of him.

“Mulder, you’ve been working nonstop for the past 10 days. Just go home, and I’ll call you when I get back from College Park. Okay?”

He sighed. “Sure, Scully.”

She hung up the phone. She fervently hoped she would get positive results from the pregnancy test, but also dreaded the opposite. Scully had a feeling that her life would change, either way.


	24. “One day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1: Scully finds out the results of her IVF procedure.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from the episode "Per Manum" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> I originally wrote this as all one chapter, but it was just way too long. So I had to split it into two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Active Child (feat. Ellie Goulding) – “Silhouette”
> 
> Giving this world everything I've got  
> Running through the woods  
> Running through these shots, trying to survive a day  
> And all I want is that you extend your hand to me
> 
> Sitting outside waiting for the world to come  
> Living my life trying to do what's right  
> In the hope of a better day  
> And all those words you wrote me brought me to my knees  
> But all that I'm saying is
> 
> You, you'll never be alone  
> You, you'll never be alone  
> You, to be alone  
> You, hope you find your way home
> 
> Sitting outside waiting for the world to come  
> Living my life trying to do what's right  
> In the hope of a better day  
> And all I want is that you extend your hand to me
> 
> Show me where it hurts  
> Will you make it okay?  
> Tell me that you'll stay  
> Even when I'm far away  
> My voice will carry through  
> Until the end it's me and you  
> We can make it if we try  
> But all that I'm saying is
> 
> You, you'll never be alone  
> You, you'll never be alone  
> You, to be alone  
> You, hope you find your way home
> 
> You're never gonna be alone  
> You're never gonna be alone

Scully was a bundle of nerves as she drove from Quantico, Virginia to College Park, Maryland late on Friday afternoon. Over the past 12 days, she hadn’t felt much of a difference in her body, and this concerned her. She had been hoping there would be some sign, that she’d be able to sense if the IVF worked. But she didn’t experience any cramping, sore breasts, increased urination, or heartburn. As the days went by, she couldn’t feel anything. But she knew 12 days was a very short period of time and that many women may not experience pregnancy symptoms for several weeks.

She also knew that she’d done everything Dr. Parenti had directed her to after the embryo transplantation: she took three doses of progesterone daily, she drank Gatorade all day (despite not finding any flavor she could really stomach), she ate more protein, and she took it easy. She stopped going for runs or any other exercise, and she requested a student assistant to help her at Quantico so that she didn’t have to do anything strenuous during the autopsies she performed. She spent a lot of time sitting whenever she could while at work, and relaxing when at home.

Despite all this, Scully spent the entire hour-long drive putting up walls around her heart in an effort to protect her from the heartbreak of hearing bad news. If she expected the worst, then maybe the worst wouldn’t be so devastating. By the time she’d pulled into the parking lot of the Parenti Medical Group at 6:13 pm, she was still trying to convince herself that she’d been hoping in vain and she couldn't possibly be pregnant.

*****

Mulder was a bundle of nerves the entire hour-long flight from Pittsburgh to D.C. He walked off the plane and exited through the Arrivals doors a few minutes before 5:30 pm, hailed a taxi, and by the time he’d arrived at his apartment 30 minutes later he was sick with anxious anticipation. He walked into his bedroom, tossing his navy blue suit jacket on the bed. He unbuckled and removed his belt, and took off his pants, also laying them on top of the bed. He then reached into the third drawer of his dresser and pulled out a pair of dark jeans. After putting them on and sticking his wallet in the right back pocket and his keys in the front, he went to his closet and picked out a long-sleeved shirt, pulling it over his white undershirt.

He spent a few minutes bouncing his basketball around his living room until his downstairs neighbor started pounding his ceiling beneath his floor. Mulder then spent 10 minutes pacing his apartment, walking between the living room and the kitchen and back again, his mind racing, and staring at his telephone.

What if it worked? What if it really worked? What if Scully’s pregnant? Would she quit the X-Files? She’d have to. Maybe. Yes, she’d have to. It would be too dangerous. Maybe he would go back to the Behavioral Science Unit. They could still be partners. Or maybe back to the Violent Crimes Unit. Ugh… he guessed it wouldn’t be terrible if he had Scully with him. But would she even want to work with the VCU? Hmm… maybe she’d just go back to teaching at Quantico; that wouldn’t be so bad. Or maybe she’d quit the FBI altogether and get a job at one of the hospitals in the city. Oh, God… did he even want to work at the FBI without her? Did he make enough money to pay child support? Damn. He never asked her if she wanted him to pay child support. Knowing Scully, she probably wouldn’t accept it from him anyways. Would the kid even know who he is? Was he going to be a father? Would the kid call him ‘dad’? Would they be a family? If she did quit the FBI, he guessed they could actually all live together under one roof. Nope, don’t think about that. But would Scully even allow him to be the father? He didn’t know what she wanted. Oh, no, what if she doesn’t? Don’t think about that. _God… what if Scully is pregnant? Oh, man… what if she isn’t?_

Mulder pushed that painful thought away and looked at the clock: 6:20 pm. He thought he should wait for her at her place, and then reminded himself that she clearly didn’t want him there, and probably wanted to be by herself. But he couldn’t stand being alone in his apartment, pacing the floor, for one more minute. Fuck it. Mulder put on his sneakers and grabbed his jacket before heading out the door.

*****

Scully was greeted by a nurse in Dr. Parenti's office waiting room on the sixth floor of the Parenti Medical Group building, was given a cup to provide a urine sample, and then instructed to leave the cup on the bathroom sink. After this was done, she was ushered into Dr. Parenti’s office. As she sat in one of the beige chairs in front of his desk, waiting for him to come in, she thought she could throw up at any second.

“Dana,” Dr. Parenti said as he walked into the office. “Hello.”

“Dr. Parenti,” Scully said as she started to stand up, but he motioned for her to keep sitting. He sat down at his desk, with his clipboard.

“Okay… yesterday morning you had a blood test done at Lifecare Medical Associates in D.C. and they sent us the results this afternoon. We also just tested your urine.”

Her stomach was doing somersaults and she started to brace herself for the bad news.

“I’m afraid both tests showed that you are not pregnant,” Dr. Parenti sighed. “I’m sorry, Dana.”

She didn’t know what to say. Scully took some deep breaths to remain calm. She didn’t want to break down. She was strong. She could handle this. She'd already been barren for two years, she thought. It’s not like this was shocking news to her. She stared down at her hands in her lap, blinking back tears.

“Dana, this was just the first try. Many women go through several IVF cycles before one succeeds.”

Scully looked up at him. “What… what do you mean?”

“Did you think that I was only going to try once and then give up on you?” Dr. Parenti asked, his voice empathetic and kind.

She chewed her bottom lip, tears welling up in her eyes.

“You do want to try again, don’t you? We have your remaining frozen ova. We froze the remaining sperm sample. Of course, our preference is to work with fresh sperm when possible. I’m sure your partner wouldn’t mind providing another sample at a later date. And there are other techniques and methods that we haven’t even explored yet. We’re far from exhausting all of your options.”

Scully sighed.

“Dana. I’m not giving up on you and I’m not going to let you give up on yourself.”

She nodded. But did she have the heart to go through this again? She didn’t know.

“With an unsuccessful IVF attempt, you can expect to get your period any day now. But after your following menstrual cycle, hopefully just a month from now, we can start the process again. Okay? Don’t give up, Dana.”

“Okay,” she sighed. Scully tried to remain positive, but she felt grief and fear seizing hold of her as Dr. Parenti began to explain to her how the next process could go, and the different methods they could try.

*****

Mulder arrived at Scully’s apartment at 6:49 pm, unlocking her door and stepping inside. He turned on a couple lights. He’d been alone in her apartment before, waiting for her, but this had a completely different feeling. He hoped she’d be home soon. He paced the floor between her kitchen and living room, he turned on the TV and turned it right back off; he then went to the bathroom to empty his bladder, and he saw the open doorway to her bedroom.

He could count on one hand the number of times he’d been in that room. He remembered one night, waiting for her, sitting in there in the dark. He stopped and stared at it. He wondered why she kept it open. His was always closed, even though a bed had mysteriously appeared in there a year ago and he’d actually started using his bedroom for the first time since Diana left him all those years ago. Yet, the door was always shut, whether he was inside the room or not. And here was Scully’s bedroom door, left wide open, and she wasn’t even home. Mulder’s psychology degree kicked in, but he pushed it away before he could start to analyze himself too much.

Mulder felt anxious and his throat felt parched. He grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and drank the whole thing in under a minute. He then checked his watch: 7:16 pm. Where was Scully? He didn’t know if the longer she was gone meant good news or bad news.

He grew tired of pacing, and sat on the couch. His mind was no longer racing and his anxiety started to dissipate somewhat. Mulder suddenly felt tired, and stretched himself out on the couch, putting two pillows under his head. He shut his eyes, and drifted off.

*****

Scully pulled out her keys and to unlock her apartment door. She wished she could just call Mulder in the morning, but she knew he was just as anxious as she’d been to find out, and she couldn’t make him wait until tomorrow. Besides, she knew he would just end up calling her if he thought he'd been waiting too long to hear from her.

As she unlocked the door and stepped inside, closing the door behind her, Mulder awoke to the sound and turned his head back to see her standing inside the door.

“Scully?” he said, getting up off the couch.

Of course he’s there. She found that she was not surprised in the least to see him there. But she didn’t know how to tell him. She didn’t want to say it out loud.

“I must’ve dozed off,” he said, blinking himself further awake. “I was waiting for you to get back.”

As Scully walked toward him, Mulder looked at her with a sinking heart. _Oh, no_. “It didn’t take, did it?”

“I guess it was too much to hope for,” she replied, her chin quivering. As much as she was trying to fight them, Scully could feel the tears welling up, and her throat constricting. To speak the words out loud was so painful.

Mulder shook his head and reached for her, and she moved towards him, wrapping her arms around him and letting him hold her.

“It was my last chance,” Scully cried over his shoulder, and he gripped her tighter to him.

Mulder closed his eyes and felt his heart breaking. He couldn’t help feeling that this had been his last chance, too, but didn’t want to dwell on that thought. He knew she needed him to be the strong one now. He had always been the believer to her skeptic, and he thought that if there was ever a time when Scully most needed the strength of his beliefs and convictions, now was that time.

He pulled away from her slightly, his hands moving from her back to caress her arms, and kissed her forehead as Scully gave a shuddering sob. He then pressed his forehead against hers and moved his right hand to hold her waist.

“Never give up on a miracle.”

Mulder was the second person tonight to tell her not to give up. What would she ever do without him? She raised her right arm over his shoulder, and moved her other arm around his back, as she brought her face to his and kissed him near his mouth, and then his neck. He then wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to him.

"Please stay," she said, her voice breaking. "Don't go."

He smiled into her hair. "I'm not going anywhere, Scully. I'll stay for as long as you want me to stay."

She was now glad that Mulder had completely disregarded what she told him to do, and showed up at her apartment anyway. She was glad she wasn’t alone. But she was alone, really. She'd always be alone. Scully felt fresh tears welling up in her eyes and she once again began crying into his shoulder.

“I hate being all alone, Mulder,” Scully sobbed.

He felt his heart sinking into his stomach.

She was going to grow old and die alone. With no one who really loved her, with no one who needed her; old and unloved with her dried up, barren womb. Scully continued to cry.

Mulder thought that he had never felt sadder in all his life than at this moment. But… she wasn't alone. Why did she think that?

“Scully, you’ll never be alone. You’ve got me.” But to his dismay, instead of these words being a comfort, they only made her cry harder. He sighed. “Scully, come on… come sit on the couch.”

He moved his hands to her jacket, unbuttoning it, and then pushed the jacket down and off her arms. He wrapped an arm around her and guided her to the couch, laying her jacket over the back of it. He then walked into the kitchen, grabbing her kettle and adding water to it, before setting it back down on the stove and turning on the burner. He went to a cabinet and pulled out a mug, before grabbing a chamomile tea bag from its box on top of the counter. Mulder turned a concerned glance back into the living room to see Scully still sitting on the couch, staring at the empty fireplace, before returning to the kitchen.

Sadness overwhelmed Scully as she sat on the couch, but eventually her breathing calmed and her tears stopped. She could hear Mulder behind her in the kitchen, but she wasn’t paying enough attention to comprehend what he was doing in there. She thought she might’ve heard him opening her cabinets. He had told her she wasn’t alone because she had him. But did she? Really? Not the way she wanted. The pain was back; not the pain of her barrenness and crushed hopes, but the pain of loving Mulder.

Why was her fear so debilitating? She wanted love, needed love. But why was she so afraid to ask for it? To show it? She thought of the twisted psychos that she’d looked into the eyes of, bravely fought against for her very life; she thought of the commanding respect, and maybe even fear, she received from her superiors and her peers. They knew she was tough, she was someone who wouldn’t compromise her standards; she was someone who would never apologize for her intelligence just because she’s a woman. Ice Queen, as if. She's fucking mush inside, and she knew it, so she put up these ever-moving, maze-like brick walls to protect that soft mush because she knew from a young age that she did could not cope very well with pain and loss.

But Mulder, unknowingly and unintentionally, had stealthily made his way through that maze around her heart, and embedded himself into the soft mush. And Scully knew that meant he was never getting out, which only caused her pain and heartache over what would never be hers. Sometimes it caused her unending frustration that Mulder couldn’t see what she needed from him. Sometimes she felt like her feelings were written all over her, and that he’d find out any second. She cursed the commanding respect, and the fear, because she received those things from Mulder too. And she wondered if he would ever be able to disassociate who she was as an FBI agent from who she was as a woman, if Mulder would ever look beyond her badge and her sensible suits to see the caged fire underneath that was desperate to be set free. As Scully sat on her couch, she felt stuck, and hopeless.

Mulder stood in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil, guilt and shame flooding his stomach. This was all his fault. All of it. He thought of everything that had been taken away from her, but he knew she was young enough to still be able to attain some of those things. Sure, she had him, but he couldn’t keep her chained to him anymore. She deserved better. She deserved more. He couldn’t make her go on like this. It wasn’t fair. She was unhappy, and he was the cause of it. This had gone on long enough. He had to draw the line sometime, and he was going to do it right now, even if it meant ripping out his own heart and banishing the rest of his life to miserable darkness.

The kettle started whistling, and he quickly grabbed for it and poured hot water onto the chamomile tea bag inside the mug. He then went searching through her cabinets until he found what he was looking for. He grabbed a spoon from the silverware drawer and stirred two tablespoons of honey into the tea. He stood there, watching the tea steep. He was frozen in that spot, trying to will himself into walking out to the living room and doing what he’d decided to do. Mulder knew that when he left the kitchen, his life would change.


	25. "Like a switch has been flicked somewhere."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2: Mulder attempts to force Scully out of his life, but she's not going without a fight, so to speak.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Active Child (feat. Ellie Goulding) - "Silhouette"
> 
> Giving this world everything I've got  
> Running through the woods  
> Running through these shots, trying to survive a day  
> And all I want is that you extend your hand to me
> 
> Sitting outside waiting for the world to come  
> Living my life trying to do what's right  
> In the hope of a better day  
> And all those words you wrote me brought me to my knees  
> But all that I'm saying is
> 
> You, you'll never be alone  
> You, you'll never be alone  
> You, to be alone  
> You, hope you find your way home
> 
> Sitting outside waiting for the world to come  
> Living my life trying to do what's right  
> In the hope of a better day  
> And all I want is that you extend your hand to me
> 
> Show me where it hurts  
> Will you make it okay?  
> Tell me that you'll stay  
> Even when I'm far away  
> My voice will carry through  
> Until the end it's me and you  
> We can make it if we try  
> But all that I'm saying is
> 
> You, you'll never be alone  
> You, you'll never be alone  
> You, to be alone  
> You, hope you find your way home
> 
> You're never gonna be alone  
> You're never gonna be alone

Mulder walked out to the couch with the tea, and handed the mug to Scully. She smiled, and thanked him. He was relieved to see she had stopped crying. He sat down on the couch, and she felt disappointed that he had sat himself nearly out of arm’s reach. He watched her drink the hot tea, watched her sigh with satisfaction as it warmed her insides and calmed her mind. By the time she’d drank the entire mug, leaving only the dregs, her eyes were no longer bloodshot and the red blotchiness of emotion was gone from her face.

“What did Dr. Parenti say, Scully?”

“I don’t want to talk about that right now, Mulder.” She turned to see his furrowed brows and worried expression. “I’m sorry, Mulder. I promise I’ll tell you, but maybe tomorrow or in a couple days. I just don’t want to think about it right now.”

He nodded.

“How was Pittsburgh?” Scully asked.

Oh, God. Why remind him? “Uh… it was horrible, but we caught the guy. I don’t really want to talk about it. I’d like to forget it, actually.”

“I’m sorry for bringing it up,” she sighed, giving him a sympathetic look. She’d like to forget those 27 dead men, women, and children that had been found in Virginia, victims of a megalomaniacal cult leader.

“That’s okay, Scully.” _Come on, you worthless fuck. Speak your piece and get it over with._

She smiled and said, “Thanks for the tea,” before setting her empty mug down on the coffee table.

Mulder nodded at her, and then bent over, putting his elbows on his knees, and stared at his entwined hands. Scully’s eyes flew to his posture, knowing full well it meant that the conversation was about to turn unpleasant. She shifted on the couch, moving closer to him, and turning sideways to face him, with her right leg bent under her and the other draped over the side, her left foot barely touching the floor.

He closed his eyes and swallowed. He couldn't do it, he couldn't. He couldn't live without her. _You fucking piece of shit. You selfish fucking bastard._ He owed her everything, and he could start making it up to her by letting her go.

Mulder sighed. “Scully. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, not just tonight or in the past couple weeks, but several months, really…”

She went wide-eyed, and her stomach twisted into a knot of fear. She didn’t like his tone of voice. She didn’t like his posture, and the fact that he was speaking to his hands and not her face. She didn’t like where this was heading. In her experience, every conversation she’d ever had that started off with “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking” never, ever ended well. She suddenly got an overwhelming feeling that she was about to get dumped, a feeling she hadn’t experienced since high school.

“Scully… you deserve a real life. You deserve to be happy. You deserve the successful career you’d always wanted, your family always wanted for you. You deserve the big house in Fairfax or Falls Church, with all the other affluent families. You deserve to have the loving marriage to a successful, respectable husband, and as many children as you want. These things… they’ve been taken away from you: your chance to be a mother, your sister, your health, your safety. They’ve all been sacrificed to me, and my journey, my quest, whatever you want to call it. I can’t let you do it anymore.”

“Mulder…”

“No, I’ve made up my mind. You’re done with the X-Files, Scully. I’m going to talk to Skinner first thing Monday morning. And then you can do whatever you want. Go back to Quantico, or start practicing medicine. I’m sure any hospital in the country would fall all over themselves to hire you.”

“Mulder.”

“I’m not finished, Scully. I’ve done nothing but drag you down. Look at the lives of your brothers and their wives, their kids. That could’ve been your life, too. Look at the life and the promise you had in front of you when you walked into my office that first day. God, Scully, you were only 29 years old. Look at all the shit that’s happened to you since. It makes me sick. I had no right to involve another person, to endanger you all these years and wind up with nothing. Have I found my sister? What have I accomplished, exactly? None of it was worth what you’ve sacrificed. I put you through hell, Scully. I put your family through hell. Your life would’ve been so much better if we had never even met. So… I’m drawing the line here, Scully. It’s over. Go be a doctor. Go live your life. Find some happiness. That’ll only happen if you keep as far away from me as you can.” _I want to die._

She blinked back tears. “If we had never even met?” What if she’d never been assigned to work with him? Where would she be now? She might still be with the FBI, maybe not. She might be working in a hospital, or have her own practice. She might’ve found some man somewhere who she finally allowed herself to stay with for longer than a year, and maybe gotten over her fear of commitment, settled down into suburbia and had some kids. The thought filled Scully with horror.

As she watched him sitting there bent over with his elbows on his knees, it dawned on her that not once during that whole speech had his eyes left his hands. Scully knew Mulder well enough to know that if he had really and truly meant everything he said, he would’ve said it straight to her face, like that night at his apartment when he was yelling his reasons for keeping her ova a secret from her. He’d looked her in the eyes and spoke the truth. What wasn’t he telling her? What was he hiding? The reason why he had to say it to his hands, why he couldn’t look her in the eyes. But… what was it? She was determined to find out.

“Mulder… you’re right.”

He closed his eyes. He's lost her. It’s over now. The deed was done.

Scully watched Mulder’s hands tighten into fists. She knew she was heading in the right direction.

“I could’ve had a husband. Maybe he’d be a doctor, or some FBI agent or police officer, maybe a stock broker or a politician. I could’ve had the big million-dollar house with the white picket fence, lots of kids, and a dog. I could’ve had the life my family wanted me to have, the life I always had expected myself to have. I might’ve been happy, but that’s not always the case with marriages and families, is it? But, yes, I could’ve been a mother, spent my years loving and caring for my children. And all that was taken away from me the moment I stepped into your office over six years ago. I missed out on a lot of things.”

Mulder felt like his heart was shredding into a million little pieces. He wanted to die... he wanted to die.

Scully watched him as she said all this. He was still bent over, not once looking up at her; his brows were furrowed, his eyes closed, his fists clenching, his jaw grinding. How could she make him understand without thoroughly embarrassing herself and saying something she shouldn't? Like, 'I love you.' Ugh, she couldn't. Those words wouldn't even cover it, anyways.

“Mulder…”

He started to feel panicked. He had to get out of there.

“Mulder, look at me.” Scully’s eyes welled up with tears, her voice breaking.

He sighed, and then sat up straight, opening his eyes, and turned to look at her. Scully could see that his eyes were shining with unshed tears. Mulder could see that she was staring fiercely at him, as if willing him to maintain eye contact; willing him to understand, to believe what she’s going to say.

“I wouldn’t trade the past six years with you for six years spent elsewhere. Mulder, I wouldn’t trade you for the biggest house, the highest-paying job, or the best husband.”

He blinked at her. What was she saying?

“Mulder… I wouldn’t trade you for a dozen children.”

He stared at her. What… what did she just say? Mulder saw something in Scully’s eyes, in her face. Desire? Affection? Both? Her eyes were pleading with him. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. But this was the exact opposite of what he was trying to do. He was trying to make her leave him. Not want to stay. But, oh God, she kept looking at him like that…

Scully saw the same look come over his face that he’d had when he told her “yes” to her request to help her get pregnant. His eyes filled with tenderness, and his face softened. She saw something there in his eyes, but couldn’t define it. His face… he was looking at her like… she didn’t know. He'd never really looked at her like that before, this was new to her. She noticed that his breathing had gradually quickened and his pupils had dilated slightly.

In that moment Dana Scully realized three things.

1) She had to make it clear that in no way, shape, or form was Mulder ever getting rid of her. 2) Mulder was never going to be the one to act on feelings or impulses and she was wasting her time waiting for him to do so; it had to be her. 3) She could finally grow a spine and ignore that voice in her head who was always telling her that Mulder had no feelings for her other than the platonic love of friendship or, she could end up a bitter old woman looking back on this night, wishing she’d been braver.

And in that moment, Dana Scully made a snap decision. She pushed off the floor with her left foot, lifting herself up above the couch cushion with her right knee, and launched herself forward toward Mulder, landing on his lap and straddling him.

Mulder’s arms had instinctively reached out for Scully’s body, as though he was reaching out to catch a baseball flying at his face. And before he could truly comprehend what was happening, she was pressed up against him and her mouth was on his, softly moving her lips against him. He held her to him, and then slowly returned her kiss.

Scully sighed into his mouth, moving her hands to his hair, causing him to wrap his arms tighter around her back, pressing her into his chest. He was trying to tell himself what a bad idea this was and this could be a huge mistake, but his brain had gone fuzzy and every mental reprimand was beaten back by the movement of her soft lips against his mouth. And when Scully darted out her tongue, slowly brushing across Mulder’s bottom lip, his groin tightened and he groaned, opening his mouth slightly, allowing her tongue to enter.

Their kissing intensified with her tongue finding his, and his hands went from her back to her hips, grinding her against the stiffening member inside his jeans. Soon they had to pull away in order to breathe. She leaned her forehead against his, panting for breath, while she continued to move her hips against his, seeking some friction for her awakening clitoris.

He started panicking. They shouldn’t be doing this. What was this? What was happening?

“Mulder?” Scully whispered. She was going to do it. She had to be the one to act. He never would.

“Hmm?” he breathed, still panting.

“Stay with me tonight.”

_Oh, my God. This can’t be happening._

“Mulder, you said you’d stay for as long as I want you to stay,” Scully whispered, continuing to rock her hips against his. They were both starting to burn, her clit coming alive and his cock now hard and bulging inside his jeans. “And I want you to stay... all night.”

He just stared at her, breathing heavy. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t believe she actually wanted him. Well, she just said tonight. This might just be a one-night thing. _Oh, God._ He don’t know how he felt about that. This could ruin everything. But wasn’t he just trying to end their partnership? He should’ve known it would be impossible. And he'd been worried IVF could come between them. This definitely could. But wasn't this what he'd wanted? What he'd dreamed about? But this could turn out so badly! But… oh God, he wanted to fuck her.

Scully looked into his dilated pupils and saw that the green of his eyes had darkened to a forest green shade or maybe it was dark moss, and she could see flecks of gold in his irises. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest. She then removed herself from his lap, standing up in front of the couch. She smoothed out her black shirt over her abdomen, and looked down at Mulder, sitting there on the couch, breathing heavily with his erect cock protruding from his lap. He was still staring at her, eyes wide. She could tell his mind was in overdrive.

And Scully held out her hand to him.

Mulder sighed, and reached out to take her hand. As he stood up off the couch, she turned and, holding onto his hand the entire way, led him through her hallway, past the closed door to her guest room and the bathroom, and through the open doorway of her bedroom. The room was dark but as their eyes adjusted to it, the room seemed lit well enough by the moon and the city lights outside the bedroom window.

Scully closed her bedroom door, and turned to face Mulder. She walked towards him, and slipped her arms around his waist, and up his back, pressing her abdomen and breasts into his body. She looked up at his face, and he bent down to kiss her, his arms snaking around her back. As his lips touched hers, she felt new waves of desire pool at her center. She started to squirm, needing relief.

But then doubts and insecurities welled up inside Mulder. Almost every night in his dreams, he held Scully in his arms and pleased her. He knew exactly what to do, and how to do it. He made her moan and come. But those were just dreams. He knew that reality was very different; it could be painfully, embarrassingly different.

“Scully…” he said, pulling out of the kiss and panting.

“What, Mulder?” she replied, also breathing hard, looking up into his face, but he averted his eyes.

He felt the insecurity begin to crush him. “Um… I haven’t done this in a really long time and, uh…”

She gave him a small smile, and shrugged. “Me neither.”

He snorted. “Yeah.”

Mulder’s eyes flew to hers, and realized that she really did want him. This was something she wanted. Something she needed. And he could give it to her. She had wanted him before, but she’d fucked Jerse instead because he couldn’t get his head out of his ass. She probably would’ve fucked Padgett too, if he hadn’t intervened. And then both those men tried to kill her. He suddenly wanted to do this, really wanted to do this. He pushed all his nagging fears, and doubts, and insecurities away. He pushed away all his reasons for why they shouldn’t be doing this. He was going to fuck Scully. She needed him. He was going to make her feel good. He could do this.

And his mouth was on hers, kissing her slowly, but passionately, mentally recording the softness of Scully’s lips and the firmness of her tongue against his. To Mulder’s surprise, he found he was in no hurry. In all his fantasies and his dreams about Scully, there was frenzied kissing and a keen sense of urgency, where they frantically ripped at their clothes and groped at each other in the dark, thrusting and grinding as if their lives depended on coming as soon as possible. But now, on this night, standing in Scully’s darkened bedroom, there was no urgency. He had no desire to rush. He wanted this to last as long as possible. He didn’t want it to be over almost as soon as it had begun.

Mulder turned them around, and walked her backwards until the back of her thighs hit the bed.

“Get on the bed, Scully,” he breathed, staring down at her, heavy-lidded.

She felt her clit throb at his words, and a fresh wave of moisture poured out from her center. She sat on top of the comforter, Mulder holding onto her hips as she scooched herself back towards the headboard. She lay down on her back, and he climbed up, lying on his side next to her and holding himself up above her with his forearm. He wrapped his other arm around her waist, and turned her slightly to the side to face him, while pushing his leg up between hers, settling his thigh against her center. Scully squirmed against his leg. Mulder grinned, before leaning down and once again devouring her lips.

Scully’s hand went to Mulder’s hair, while her other hand snaked up and inside his undershirt, languidly brushing her fingertips up and down his back. She could feel his erection prodding her hip. She then sent her other hand to the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, together with his white undershirt, in one motion. Her lips found his again, and she wrapped her arms around his bare back, running her fingers up and down his skin. Mulder’s head was swimming and his blood boiled. He didn’t want to hurry, but Scully was now rocking against his thigh.

Her clit was now throbbing unbearably and she desperately needed some relief. "Mulder," she whimpered.

He never thought he’d hear such a sound come from Scully. His groin tightened even more, his swollen cock straining painfully. He sat up slightly. He grinned at her, and then grabbing the hem of her black shirt, pulled it up and off over her head. Mulder looked down at her black lace bra, and groaned. How many years had it been since he’d seen breasts? Real, live breasts.

He leaned back down, capturing her mouth, and pressing his chest against hers. Despite her aching need, Scully started to worry. She looked nothing like those women in Mulder’s video collection. Her breasts were nothing like the large orbs planted on the chests of those women. She was petite, and she had body hair. She looked nothing like those women, with their engorged fake breasts, fake hair, fake nails, and hairless vaginas. Was that what Mulder liked? Oh, God. This was a bad idea. What if, after tonight, he didn’t want to do this again? What if he would just prefer porn and touching himself instead of the real thing? How mortifying. What if she's not what he actually wanted?

“Scully…” Mulder breathed, breaking their kiss. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He couldn’t tell if this was the truth, or her typical Scully-fine response that meant anything but. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe she’s regretting it. Maybe she wanted to stop, but felt too embarrassed to say it.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Scully?” Mulder whispered. “We can stop, if you want.”

She sighed. She didn’t want to feel insecure. She didn’t want him to have second thoughts. She wanted their brains to just shut off.

“I’m sure,” Scully whispered, raising her fingers to his lips, brushing them gently. “No more talking, Mulder. And don’t think. Just do.”

He searched her face, looking into her eyes. He saw she spoke the truth. His mouth was on hers again, probing with his tongue for a second until she opened her mouth to allow him entrance. His hands went behind her back, and unhooked her bra. As it fell from her arms, Scully tossed it to the floor.

He pressed his chest against her bare breasts, and they moaned into each other’s mouths. Mulder pulled his leg out from between hers, causing Scully to make that whimpering sound again, making his brain go to mush. She spread her legs, and he settled between them, his mouth never leaving hers, and she rocked her hips against the hardened cock inside his jeans-clad pelvis. Mulder couldn’t take much more of that, or this would all be over before they’d really started.

He broke free of her swollen lips, and moved back, trailing kisses down her neck, lowering his hips away from her squirming center.

“Mulder, touch me,” Scully said, whimpering again. She couldn’t believe she’d just said that. The muscles in the pit of her stomach were knotted, her inner voice battling between her need for Mulder and her insecurities.

He smirked at her. “I thought you said ‘no talking,’ Scully.”

She rolled her eyes. Mulder smirked again, returning his lips and tongue to her neck, and then took his hand to her soft breast, heavy with arousal, holding its weight in his palm, rolling her taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger. This elicited a guttural moan from Scully. It had been so long since a man had touched her. Mulder groaned into her neck. When was the last time he’d held breasts in his hands? His engorged cock was now unbearably painful. He couldn’t take this slow pace anymore. He needed to make Scully come.

In one swift movement, Mulder lowered his head to Scully’s breast, sucking her hardened nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue back and forth, rolling his tongue over it. Each flick of Mulder’s tongue registered on her clit, causing her hips to buck and squirm. She was moaning as his mouth moved to her other breast, continuing its ministrations around this new taut nipple.

Mulder then began to kiss Scully down her abdomen, and to her waist, reaching her pants. He sat up on his knees between her legs. He undid her pants, pulling the zipper down, and after shifting so that he was no longer between them, grabbed the waistband with both hands and pulled her pants down and off her legs. Mulder stared at her black panties, and then closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He had to muster an enormous amount of willpower to stop himself from ripping them off and burying his cock in her hot center. He hooked both thumbs at the waist, and pulled them down and off her legs too.

He once again shifted, so that he was sitting on his knees between her legs. He bent her legs, so that her feet were planted on the comforter on both sides of his hips, and stared down at her. His hands went to her hips and waist, caressing up and down her sides. Mulder momentarily dwelt on the scar that had been left by Agent Ritter's bullet, and was determined to never let Scully out of his sight. He pushed those dark thoughts away. He then shifted his gaze to stare at her soft and full and perfectly round breasts, reaching up to gently squeeze and caress them. He rubbed his hands up and down Scully’s thighs. This was a real woman in front of him. With soft, milky skin, and meaty flesh. Mulder stared at her center, at her short, trimmed auburn curls. He could see her wetness glistening in the light shining in from the bedroom window. He groaned.

Scully wondered what Mulder was thinking about. She looked nothing like those women he fantasized about while he masturbated over his adult videos. But as she looked at him, his eyes told her that he liked what he saw. He seemed mesmerized, caressing the skin of her belly, her hips, her sides, breasts, her legs. Scully was breathing heavy again and she felt more wet desire pooling from her center.

“Mulder.”

He broke his gaze from her body, and looked at her face. “What?”

“Let’s pull the comforter down.”

He blinked. “Oh, right.”

Mulder then leaned forward over Scully, and grabbed the front end of the bedspread, along with the top sheet, down and underneath her. He helped her as she scooched backwards, so that she could lay her head on a pillow in front of the headboard. He leaned back down on top of her, kissing her passionately, and fondling her breasts. She pulled her legs up around his hips, still covered up by his dark jeans.

He couldn’t wait anymore. He had to make Scully come. Now.

As Mulder trailed kisses down her neck, chest, and abdomen, heading down her pelvis, it dawned on Scully where his mouth was heading. Her mind filled with wanton lust, but also painful insecurity. Very few of the men she’d been with had actually done this, and partly because she usually stopped them when they tried. It was just so… private. Daniel was the only one who ever performed this act with any kind of regularity, and that was a very long time ago. She hadn’t allowed anyone to do it since. Her brain told her to stop Mulder before he got to his destination, but her throbbing clit overruled that idea.

As Mulder’s face reached Scully’s center, and he breathed in her arousal, his mind went swimming and he gasped, hanging his head. His hips involuntarily thrust into the mattress. God, that scent. What had he been thinking spending so many years not smelling this? So much wasted time.

Mulder looked up at Scully’s face and saw that her head was turned to the side and the fingers of her right hand were splayed across her eyes. She didn’t want to look. He wanted to make her look. He wanted to draw it out, make her squirm and force her to beg him to suck her clit. God, where were these thoughts coming from? _Get ahold of yourself._

Mulder was thankful Scully couldn’t read his mind. Gibson Praise was right, his mind was dirty. Suddenly, he worried about that dirty mind and whether this would have a negative effect on her. She was his partner, she wasn’t a porn star. He shouldn’t be thinking these things about her. She was his friend, he had to respect her and… What if there were things inside his dirty mind, embedded there from years of porn-watching instead of participating in a sexual relationship with a real person, that Scully was just not comfortable with? _Don’t think about that right now. You can think about it later._

Mulder’s lips and tongue went to Scully’s inner thigh, kissing his way to her pelvis. Her found her groin sopping wet with her juices, and licked it clean while he thrust his rock hard cock into the mattress, still straining inside his jeans. He reached down and undid the button, pulling down his zipper, desperate for some relief. Scully’s hips started to rock, and Mulder then planted his shoulders up against the back of her thighs, holding her pelvis down with his hands. She planted her feet on the mattress behind his arms, but found she couldn’t move her hips, and started whimpering again. The throbbing ache of her clit was insufferable.

He looked up at her, but found her head still facing towards the wall, her hand over her closed eyes. _Oh well._ Mulder brought his face to the heat of her center, her pretty folds drenched in her juices. His tongue moved out at her center, starting at the bottom of her slit, working its way up through her folds, but stopping before he reached the swollen bud. Scully started moaning, and then whimpered again when his tongue stopped short of where she wanted it the most. As Mulder stared at her engorged clit, he started thrusting into the mattress again.

Scully could not stop squirming. Her head was swimming and her blood was burning, her skin was on fire. She felt like she could cry from insatiable need, but she still kept her eyes shut tight and couldn’t look at him.

And then Mulder’s mouth was on her swollen bundle of nerves, sucking and flicking and rolling his tongue around her clit.

“Oohhh, fuuuck,” Scully moaned.

Mulder stared at her in shock. He didn’t know how to reconcile everything he knew about Scully to what was happening right now. His cock was painfully engorged with his own aching need. He thought about the fact that she hadn’t done this in a long time too. He didn’t want to hurt her. He thought he should keep her as aroused as possible. That sense of urgency now hit him.

His mouth returned its ministrations on her clit, and she was rocking against him, eyes still slammed shut, and moaning incoherently. Mulder removed his right hand from her pelvis, gripping her hips tighter with his left, and brought it down near his mouth. He turned his hand palm up and inserted his index finger into her dripping wet cunt. Scully moaned and writhed against him. He looked up at her, but her face was still off to the side, eyes shut tight. Dammit.

Mulder stroked her inner walls, tight around his finger, as his tongue now set a rhythmic pace against her clit. He could feel Scully’s body tense up and go rigid. _Thank you, Jesus._  He removed his finger, before pushing back inside along with his middle finger, curving them slightly upwards. He found the slightly rough, spongy pad inside her front wall. Mulder started to stroke his fingers against the pad in the same rhythmic pace as his mouth sucked her clit.

Scully felt an unbelievable tension building and building, her muscles clenched, and then she was coming, grinding her hips against him, moaning loud incoherent speech, her hands flying to grip the bottom sheet, but unable to find decent purchase. Mulder pulled his fingers out of her pulsating cunt, raising up both hands toward her, and she gripped them tight with her own, riding out the waves of pleasure coursing through her brain.

As she started to come down off her high, she gently pushed his face away from her over-sensitized nerves. He lifted himself up to look at her. She was lying on her back, face forward looking up at the ceiling, eyes open, and with her hands at her face, nervously giggling.

“Oh, my God… oh, my God… oh, my God…”

At that moment, for the first time since mindfuck extraordinaire, Phoebe Green, had walked out of his life all those years ago at Oxford, Mulder was thankful that she’d actually walked into it and turned him from a naïve 22 year old boy into a man who knew things.

Scully, feeling wild with arousal and craving penetration, sat up and started reaching for Mulder’s erection, protruding from inside his heather gray boxer briefs, as the waistband of his jeans had steadily been pushed down his hips from all the movement.

“Scully, wait!”

She knitted her brows. “Why?”

“Because I’m about to explode, and if you touch me, I will, and this will all be over. I just…” Mulder took a deep breath. “I just need to calm down a little, think about something else for a minute.”

Scully grinned, biting her bottom lip, and laid back down. She listened as he took a few more steadying breaths, and then she watched him pull his jeans down the rest of his legs, taking his socks with them. Mulder caught her eye. She was licking her lips.

“You’re driving me crazy, Scully,” he whispered. She smiled, nervously bringing the back of her right hand to her mouth.

He watched Scully’s face as he pulled down his boxer briefs, watched her eyes go wide and her mouth fall open. She was nervously giggling again. Mulder wished he hadn’t wasted so many years not hearing that sound, but quickly pushed that sad thought away.

He moved up Scully’s body, hovering over her. She spread her legs, raising them up around his hips, and he settled between them. His engorged erection prodded her wet center. It took another feat of willpower not to come on her right there instead of inside her, where he wanted. Mulder then realized he had no condom. Normally, this would've panicked him. Every single other sexual encounter he'd ever had, from the few one-night stands to his nearly five-year relationship with Diana, he never fucked without a condom. Never. He had never wanted children, and he'd spent his entire sexual history making damn sure he never had any. And he saw the irony of the moment, that now when he would most welcome a child, condoms were unnecessary and Scully couldn't give him one. Mulder wasn't sure whether the pain he felt was for her or for him, and as his swollen cock prodded the hot, slick folds of her entrance, he prayed for that miracle.

Mulder then leaned down further, pressing his abdomen against hers, feeling her bare skin underneath him. He fervently hoped that the first time wouldn’t be the last, but knew full well that Scully could wake up tomorrow and freak out, saying it was all a mistake and they never should’ve acted on such hormonal impulses, and that things would be much better if they pretended like it never happened. But was it hormonal impulses? Was it simply nothing more than a sexual impulse that sent Scully flying into his lap on the couch? Somehow he didn’t think so.

Mulder looked into her face, bringing his hand up, brushing her cheek, and her jawline. Scully felt like he was searching her face for something, like an answer or permission, maybe. But his eyes blazed, and she saw not just arousal, but love, affection, devotion. And her heart swelled, full to bursting.

At that precise moment, Mulder’s other hand guided his engorged cock, throbbing with need, into her cunt, her dripping wet walls greeting him with their warmth and pressure.

“Aahh, fuck, Scully… this isn’t going to last long.”

She smiled up at him, she didn’t care. The feeling of Mulder on top of her, his skin pressed against hers, his hard member inside her inner walls, Mulder looking into her eyes with affection, it was all overwhelming.

After several thrusts, Mulder started moaning. _Thank God_ , thought Scully. She had always strongly disliked sex with men who did little more than grunt a couple times at ejaculation. She liked men who were vocal, the sounds of their pleasure always registering with her clit.

Mulder’s frantic thrusts into Scully’s wet heat sought the ecstasy he could never achieve in his dreams. As he looked into her face, he knew there was no Smoking Man here, no one to take her away from him, and in fact, there had actually been no sign of the man anywhere since he came home from the hospital. No threats, no whispers of illicit activities, nothing but silence. Mulder then thought that it had been foolish to allow fear of this evil bastard to keep him from Scully. They should’ve done this a long time ago.

He could sense his imminent release; his groin tightened, the tension in his balls building until he couldn’t take the pressure, and Mulder started mumbling wildly explicit language as his face hung over Scully’s. Her eyes widened with shock, but she liked it, as the language was littered with references to her body and her name.

Scully felt Mulder push his arms underneath her, to hold her tight to his chest, burying one hand in her hair, pressing his face into her neck; and then he was coming, moaning loudly and she could feel his hot seed flood her womb. In that moment, it all proved too much: the act itself, having been so long since she’d experienced it, the fact that this was also the first time she’d had sex since finding out she was barren, and that the person who still found her desirable was Mulder. This all sent just too many waves of emotion as she gripped him to her and cried. She wept for herself, she wept for Mulder, she wept for the children they’d never have.

He was confused, and worried. “Scully, did I hurt you?”

“No,” she cried. “You could never hurt me, Mulder.”

“What can I do?” he asked, feeling helpless.

Scully pushed him over, so that they were now lying on their sides, and she wrapped her leg around his hip, one arm around his neck and the other around his back.

“Just hold me,” she cried into his shoulder.

And Mulder held her tight, their arms and legs entangled, as she cried. After a few minutes, her cries lessened, and he leaned back to look in her face. She was still giving off shuddering sobs, trying to catch her breath. Mulder brought his hand to her face, gently stroking her cheek, wiping her tears.

Scully wanted to say the words, she wanted to say "I love you." But she couldn't. The fear was still there. The walls were still there, and she was putting them up, always in a state of self-preservation. She had no idea what this was, or what it'd mean in the long run. Maybe he wouldn't want to do it a second time. Maybe this was just a pity fuck. Maybe he'd start trying to push her out of the X-Files again. It didn't seem that way right now, with Mulder gazing at her in an affectionately sleepy way, one hand in her hair and the other one on her ass. But Scully knew that men often went to sleep in post-coital bliss, only to wake up the following morning feeling quite differently.

Despite Scully's tears, and the unknown that lay ahead of them, Mulder was happy, and possibly more content than he'd ever felt in his life. He had no clue what just happened or why it happened or if it'd happen again. He could only hope and pray that it would. And as he watched Scully succumb to sleep, Mulder smiled, following her into unconsciousness seconds later.


	26. "She worried her partner would know instinctively what she could only guess."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after. Poor communication. Awkwardness. Angst. Tension. You know how it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lykke Li - "Possibility"
> 
> There's a possibility  
> There's a possibility  
> All that I had, was all I'm gonn' get
> 
> There's a possibility  
> There's a possibility  
> All I'm gonn' get is gone with your stare  
> All I'm gonn' get is gone with your stare
> 
> So tell me when you hear my heart stop  
> You're the only one who knows  
> Tell me when you hear my silence  
> There's a possibility I wouldn't know
> 
> Know that when you leave  
> Know that when you leave  
> By blood and by me, you walk like a thief  
> By blood and by me, I fall when you leave
> 
> So tell me when you hear my heart stop  
> You're the only one who knows  
> Tell me when you hear my silence  
> There's a possibility I wouldn't know
> 
> So tell me when my sorrow's over  
> You're the reason why I'm closed  
> Tell me when you hear me falling  
> There's a possibility it wouldn't show
> 
> By blood and by me, I'll fall when you leave  
> By blood and by me, I'll follow your lead

As the light of dawn started to make its way through the window of the master bedroom in Apartment #35, 1419 31st NW in Georgetown, Mulder stirred awake, eyes slowly blinking open. And then what he saw brought a warm smile to his face. Scully was lying next to him, sleeping soundly. As he watched her face, he realized that it hadn’t been a dream. It was real. It had really happened. All of it.

He reached his hand out to softly brush her hair away from her face and behind her ear. He felt quite content to just lay there and watch her sleep as the light of morning slowly spread across the bedroom. Memories of the previous night swam in front of his eyes, some incredibly painful, most incredibly pleasurable: the softness of Scully’s skin, the delicious taste of her, her gratifying sounds, the affection in her eyes.

He fought the urge to wake her up, roll her over and fuck her again. His mind flooded with fantasies of all the different ways he wanted to have her, while hoping intensely that when Scully woke up she wouldn't regret what happened so that he would be free to make these fantasies come true. But then he started to remember all his reasons, some silly and others valid, why adding sex to their partnership could be a very bad idea.

The sillier reasons he could more easily suppress, as he didn’t honestly think that what happened last night would have any adverse effect on their working relationship and how they’d pursue or handle cases. He’d been a fool to think he could just force her to leave. Because he’s still Mulder and she’s still Scully, and that’s what made the X-Files work. Unless things became unbearably awkward and they couldn’t even look or talk to each other. Damn. That would be a problem. _Don’t think about that._

Also, judging by the stares, whispers, and smirks of his peers, Mulder assumed that most everyone at the FBI probably thought they’d been fucking already. He thought that Skinner sometimes even suspected as much. And yet, no one bothered to make any kind of outright accusation and try to separate them on grounds of the anti-fraternization policy. But they also hadn’t ever… fraternized. Until last night. Making it obvious might become a problem, when it’s no longer rumor and it became known fact. He then panicked, realizing that his car had been parked all night outside Scully’s apartment building. He knew that if this… thing… continued, he couldn't be leaving his car outside her place overnight. Someone would be bound to notice, whether that’s someone from the FBI or more dangerous characters that he’d rather not think about.

And now Mulder’s most valid reason came forward in mind, for why picking up where last night left off would be a very bad idea, a dangerous idea. It most likely wouldn’t take long for any significant change to their partnership to be noticed by certain nefarious groups within the government who considered Mulder and Scully to be persons of interest. They’d been put under surveillance too many times for Mulder to just assume that would never happen again in the future. What if they then used her, threatened her life, to manipulate him? Cancer Man could easily return from whatever hole he’s hiding in and take her from him.

As these paranoid, fearful thoughts ran through his head, Scully slowly opened her eyes, blinking herself awake. She smiled at him. He turned to look at her, and then all those negative thoughts vanished from his mind as quickly as a flame blowing out of a candle. Mulder was staring at her when it happened. Again, he could see it happening right in front of his eyes. A look of realization, and then a dark cloud came over her face, any emotion fled from her eyes and he couldn’t read them. A wall was in front of her. She was closed off to him.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” she said, not looking at him, before wrapping herself up in the cream-colored top sheet and walking across the bedroom to the bathroom door, disappearing behind it.

Mulder turned so that he was lying with his back against the mattress, and threw his hand across his forehead. _Shit._

*****

Scully stood inside the bathroom, leaning against the door to her bedroom and locking it. She then crossed to the other wall, and locked the door leading out to her hallway. She was panicking, as she remembered the events of the previous night and felt embarrassed. She’d done and said things that were making her face red with humiliation. And she’d seen the look on his face when she woke up, like a deer caught in the headlights. What if he really wanted to get rid of her now? For her own good? She ruined everything. He'd never look at her the same again. Their friendship wouldn't ever be the same now, and he probably didn't even want a personal relationship outside work. What had she expected to happen? Had she expected things to actually change for the better? He had only wanted to make her feel better last night; he pitied her. And now he probably regretted it ever happened. Oh, God. How could she have been so stupid?!

Any idea of talking about what happened was quickly crushed by the twisted knots of fear in her stomach. She didn’t want to look at him and see the regret, the rejection. Or worse, hear the words of regret and the words of rejection. She then went over to the toilet and nearly fell in. She stood up to see the toilet seat had been left up. She rolled her eyes, and slammed it shut, annoyed. After emptying her bladder, she turned on the shower and hoped that by the time she got out, Mulder would have gotten dressed and gone home; that he’d be a real friend and spare her the crushing embarrassment.

She took her time in the shower, prolonging her departure from the bathroom. After 20 minutes had gone by, she was standing in her robe in front of the bathroom mirror, combing her hair. She then lightly stepped across the floor to open the door leading into the bedroom, and cracked it open. Mulder wasn’t there. Thank God. She returned to the sink, and as she started brushing her teeth, she heard the TV turn on in her living room. She froze. He’s still there? Couldn't he go home and watch TV? _You’ve got to be kidding me._

*****

Mulder wanted to talk about what happened, or maybe he didn’t. He didn’t know what to do, what would be the best course of action. He could talk to her, and possibly hear things he really didn’t want to hear. Or they could pretend like it never happened, and allow things to go back to normal. He felt his heart sinking. How could they ever go back? There’s no going back.

He turned on the TV to ESPN and baseball coverage. Perfect way to disengage his brain. He heard Scully come out of the shower. He could hear her moving around the bedroom. He thought about going in there, but fear kept him rooted to the couch. But as he looked down, he remembered that the couch was where this had all started. He wanted to go back and relive it. It likely was the first and last time anything like that would happen. Maybe he should've done or said something differently last night, to ensure that this morning wouldn't be going the way it was. But what that was, he had no idea.

He spent the next hour sitting on the couch while noticing that she was spending a lot of time in rooms other than the one he was sitting in. He’d get glimpses of her walking between the bedroom and the hallway, going in and out of the bathroom. She was doing laundry. Then he heard the vacuum turn on and she barricaded herself in the guest room. He could hear her in the kitchen now, and she was cleaning. He thought that it had looked spotless the night before.

Apparently, she’d chosen to ignore him. Well, that’s just great. Mulder decided that he was going to force her to acknowledge him.

“Hey, Scully?” he called out from the couch.

She stopped wiping down the counter. Her guts churned with humiliation. “Yeah?”

“You hungry?” he asked. “You wanna go get some breakfast?”

Sure let’s go somewhere public so he could break it to her gently. “Um… no, I’m not hungry. Why don’t you go and get something to eat?”

He was skeptical. “What do you mean, you’re not hungry? You must be starving. You didn’t even eat dinner last night.”

“I’ll eat later, Mulder,” she brusquely replied. She wanted to be alone. Why didn’t he understand that?

He sighed. “Do you want to talk about what Dr. Parenti told you?”

She froze. She felt sadness clench at her heart. How could she ask Mulder to support her through another IVF attempt after what happened last night? Suddenly the idea of creating a child came with so many more implications that she wasn’t ready to think about, let alone talk about. “Not really, not right now,” after the long pause.

Good grief. If anyone could earn a PhD in suppressing and avoidance, she could. _Uh… look who’s talking, buddy._ He sighed. She clearly just wanted him to leave. He picked up his sneakers that he’d left by the couch the night before, and put them on. He shut off the TV and stood up, walking towards the coat stand to grab his jacket.

“Okay, so… I guess I’ll see you tonight, Scully. I’m still picking you up at 6:30, right?” he said by her apartment door, looking into the kitchen.

Why would he come back later? She had no idea what he was talking about. “What do you mean?”

“The FBI Community Service Awards Banquet,” he replied. “We’re getting a Public Service Award, remember?”

She blinked, staring down at the counter. “That’s tonight?”

“Yeah. At the Capital Hilton, 7:30. Did you forget? You asked me last week to pick you up so we could go together, remember?”

She sighed. She had completely forgotten about it. She hadn’t gone shopping for a dress. She’d made no appointments for the salon. And they’re supposed to get up on stage and accept an award, and address the room with some kind of speech. What was she going to say? What was she going to wear? She supposed she could spend her afternoon getting ready.

“You don’t have to do that, Mulder. I’ll drive myself.”

“Scully, why should we take two cars? I don’t mind picking you up. I already told you I would.”

“Because it’s not fair for you to drive home, get ready, then drive back here. I can just meet you there, Mulder.”

She wasn’t even looking at him as she talked to him. He started to feel anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

“Scully, I’m picking you up,” he said firmly. “I’ll be here at 6:30.“

He was staring at her. She was still refusing to look at him. He didn’t know what else to say. There were things he wanted to say, but he didn’t know how to. He hated her silence. He’d rather she was freaking out, and emotional, and telling him all her reasons for why last night had been the biggest mistake they'd ever made. He could at least argue with her, raise his objections, and they could hash this thing out like every other difference of opinion they’d ever had. But her silence, her distance, he had no weapons to defend himself against. It was ice cold, and it froze his heart.

“Fine, Mulder,” she replied curtly, not looking up from the kitchen counter she was cleaning.

He sighed and opened the door, and after one last painful glance at the couch, where she flew into his lap and invited him to her bed, he left.

As Scully’s elbows dropped to the counter, she hung her head, eyes filling with tears.


	27. “Mulder's ideas may be a bit out there but he is a great agent.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully attend the FBI Community Service Awards Banquet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depeche Mode – “Soothe My Soul”
> 
> I'm coming for you  
> When the sun goes down  
> I'm coming for you  
> When there's no one around
> 
> I come to your house  
> Break down the door  
> Girl, I'm shaking  
> I need more
> 
> There's only one way to soothe my soul  
> There's only one way to soothe my soul  
> Only one way  
> Only one way
> 
> I'm coming for you  
> I need to feel your skin  
> I'm coming for you  
> To stop this crawling
> 
> I'm taking my place  
> By your side  
> I'm not leaving  
> Until I'm satisfied
> 
> There's only one way to soothe my soul  
> There's only one way to soothe my soul  
> Only one way  
> Only one way
> 
> I'm coming for you  
> My body's hungry  
> I'm coming for you  
> Like a junkie
> 
> I can't stop  
> Desire in me  
> I'm not waiting  
> Patiently
> 
> There's only one way to soothe my soul  
> There's only one way to soothe my soul  
> Only one way  
> Only one way
> 
> There's only one way to soothe my soul

At 6:15 pm on Saturday, October 2nd, Scully was dressed and ready to go to the FBI Community Service Awards Banquet, her knee-length charcoal gray wool trench coat over her new dress, shoes on, and pacing her apartment waiting for Mulder to arrive. She felt nervous, embarrassed, scared, anxious, excited, hopeful. She wondered if tonight would go well or horrible. She wondered if things would go back to normal between them or if things were forever changed. At first, she had dreaded the thought of the banquet. She knew it had been awful timing, being held on the day after she’d learn the results of her IVF attempt. But now that she’d learned the IVF had failed, being in a large room full of people, most of whom she didn’t know particularly well and therefore her conversation could be limited to non-personal small talk, seemed like a good distraction from the suffocating thoughts raging in her mind.

At 6:25 pm, Mulder showed up at her apartment, and knocked on her door. Scully stood there, frozen, staring at it. A sensation of butterflies filled her stomach, but after taking a deep breath, she walked towards the door and opened it. He was standing there, wearing his trench coat, and she could see the bowtie of his tuxedo sticking out at the collar. She gave him a halfhearted smile. “Hi.”

Mulder stood there, staring at Scully. His eyes roamed down from her hair, which was shiny and pulled up and away from her face; her eyes, done up with smoky makeup; her glossy red lips; the earrings hanging from her lobes, glittering in the light; the dark coat hugging her figure; past her sheer black nylon-covered legs to her feet, shod in black high stiletto heels, and then back up. His brain went fuzzy.

“Mulder?”

He blinked, trying to focus. “Hey… Yeah, you ready?”

Scully stared at him, and Mulder thought he might've seen a momentary twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “Yes, I’m ready.”

She walked out the door, locking and closing it behind her. As she walked down the hallway towards the elevator, Mulder walked behind her, staring at the soft skin of Scully’s neck, exposed now that her hair was up, and a black seam going straight down the back of her sheer nylon-covered legs and disappearing into her heels. He groaned internally. This was going to be a long night.

A quick seven-minute drive took them from Scully’s apartment building to the Capital Hilton in downtown D.C. Upon arrival in the hotel lobby, Scully excused herself to use the ladies’ room and Mulder approached the registry table, pulling out his badge.

“Fox Mulder and Dana Scully,” he spoke to the attendant sitting at the table, a middle-aged man also dressed in a tuxedo.

The attendant glanced at Mulder’s badge, and then scanned his list of names. “Yep, I’ve got you right here. Table 13. Oh, I see you’re one of the award recipients. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” said Mulder. He then went over to the cloakroom to the right of the table and checked his trench coat.

“How’s it going, Spooky?” came a familiar voice from behind him.

Mulder turned to see the unwelcome presence of Agent Tom Conlon standing there looking at him. He stared, and before he could think of what in the world to say to the guy, he saw Conlon’s gaze shift to stare past him. Mulder turned, and gaped.

Scully was walking towards them in her black stiletto pumps and carrying a small, shiny purse, wearing a figure-hugging black spaghetti strap dress that stopped about three inches above her knees and showed just enough cleavage to make Mulder’s heart start pounding. He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he watched her approach them. Oh, God. This was gonna be a really long night.

“And here’s Mrs. Spooky,” Conlon said to Scully, albeit in a good-naturedly way.

“Hi, Tom.” She rolled her eyes. She turned her attention to Mulder, and her heart skipped a beat as she gazed at him in his black tuxedo.

“Hi, Dana,” Conlon said, grinning and waggling his eyebrows at her.

Mulder didn’t know which was more irritating, "Mrs. Spooky" or "Dana." He just knew he wanted to get away from Conlon as soon as possible.

“We’re at Table 13, Scully,” he said impatiently. She could tell by his tone that he wanted them to leave the lobby, and Conlon, specifically.

“I’ll guess I’ll see you inside, Tom,” Scully said, as she turned towards the open double doors to the banquet room.

Tom winked. “You better believe it, Dana. See ya, Spooky.” Conlon then walked away to greet some other acquaintances.

Mulder stood there, throwing an icy stare at Conlon’s back as he walked away. Dana, his ass. Scully reached out and grabbed his arm. “You ready?”

He stared at her hand, gently holding his forearm, and then looked into her face. It was the first time she’d touched him since the night before. Scully blushed, quickly pulling her hand back, and averted her eyes. She then turned, and walked into the banquet room. The room was done up in blue and silver décor, complete with a stage at the front holding up a podium with the FBI insignia and tables to seat 1,000 people.

As they walked towards their table on the other side of the large event room near the stage, Scully was hearing “Hey, Spooky” so many times her blood was starting to boil with anger. She wished that other agents would open their eyes and give Mulder the respect and admiration he deserved. He simply rolled his eyes or returned a blank stare in the direction the name was being called. He’d been hearing that name for 13 years, since the Academy. There was nothing he could do about it, and it had never seemed worth getting bent out of shape over. However, one too many male agents had said “Hi, Dana” for his liking, most of whom he and Scully didn’t even know by name or face.

As they made their way across the room, they were stopped by Skinner.

“Hey, I’m glad I caught you before this thing starts,” Skinner said as he approached them, wearing an American flag pin in the lapel of his tuxedo.

“Hello, sir,” Scully greeted him. Mulder just nodded his head.

“Listen, about this Public Service Award…,” Skinner hesitated. “The Deputy Director has decided that as the award is being given to both of you, as one unit, you don’t both need to get up on stage. And he’s asked that only one of you go up to accept the award, and say a few words.”

“And by that you mean Agent Scully,” Mulder said.

Scully turned a surprised look on him, and then turned it on Skinner. “But sir, I didn’t really do anything in the bank. It was Mulder who stopped Bernard Oates. Mulder’s the one who rendered the public service. I didn’t really do much of anything.”

“Well, the Deputy Director doesn’t want Mulder getting up there and talking about Pamela Hamilton living out the plot of a _Twilight Zone_ episode,” Skinner explained.

Mulder sighed, and shook his head. Scully flashed an angry look in Skinner’s direction, and started walking away to Table 13, Mulder following behind her.

She reached the table first, Mulder having been stopped by his friend, Agent Danny Valladeo. She was grateful there was at least one friendly face in the room for his sake. She walked around the table to find her and Mulder’s place cards, and upon finding the card with “Dana Scully” printed on it, she sat down and set her clutch on the table. She glanced to the place card on her left, to see “Peyton Ritter.” Her stomach knotted. Oh, no. It couldn't be. She looked to her right, expecting to see the place card with Mulder’s name, but instead the printed card read “Spooky.” Scully felt hot, angry tears filling her eyes. _Assholes._ Somehow this night felt like an event planned by the Deputy Director just as a way to stick it to Mulder. She grabbed her clutch, pulled out her black felt pen, turned her place card over and wrote “Mrs. Spooky.”

Mulder finally left Danny to sit at the table next to Scully. He glanced at his place card and then at hers, which had clearly been written in her own handwriting.

“What did you do that for?”

“Solidarity,” she replied.

Mulder grinned at her. “Go team.”

Scully chuckled.

*****

At just past 7:00 pm, Special Agent Peyton Ritter from the New York Bureau approached Table 13 and sat down at his seat. He stared at the empty chair next to him and then looked up to see Mulder sitting on the other side of the empty chair. He blanched. Mulder stared.

Ritter cleared his throat. “Agent Mulder. So… uh, where’s Dana?”

 _You’ve got to be fucking kidding me._ “ _Agent Scully_ is over at the Quantico tables talking with her friends.”

Ritter nodded. “And what about you? Don’t you have any friends here?”

“No,” Mulder replied. “Well no, that’s not true, I have one friend. And she’s walking around being social.”

Ritter eyed him. “Well… okay, then.”

Mulder wondered if the Deputy Director put Ritter next to Scully on purpose. The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.

“How would you like to have more than one friend here?” a familiar female voice asked behind him.

Mulder and Ritter turned to see Agent Natalie Black, wearing a red strapless cocktail dress, her long dark brown hair cascading over one shoulder. He blinked at her as she sat down in Scully’s chair, sitting sideways to face him and crossing her legs, turning her back to Ritter.

“Hi, Agent Black,” Mulder said politely.

“I thought I told you to call me Natalie,” she said. “You look great in that tux. And, uh… I _really_ miss seeing you in the bullpen.”

At this, Ritter leaned over to look around her, and arched his eyebrows at Mulder. Mulder refused to make eye contact with him.

Scully was enjoying spending time with the Quantico pathologists and laboratory staff, laughing and talking about their lives, families, work. She had known them for a long time, nine years, and she was very fond of them. They all congratulated her and Mulder on the award and told her that they’d cheer the loudest when their names were called. She felt grateful. She turned to look back at her table, to see Natalie sitting in her chair, with her legs crossed toward Mulder. Scully excused herself from her friends, and headed back to her table.

“Are you doing anything after this?” Natalie asked him.

Mulder gave her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?"

“Are you going to any of the parties?”

He shook his head. “I’m not a party person. I haven’t been to a party since college.”

“Yeah… I was thinking about skipping the parties myself,” Natalie replied. “Um… I’d still like to do something fun, though.”

Mulder nodded.

“Would you, maybe, like some company tonight? We could hang out after. Maybe… at your place?”

Mulder blinked. Ritter leaned way back in his chair and threw a wild stare at him.

“Hi, Natalie.” Scully had returned to the table.

“Oh, hi Dana!” Natalie said, smiling and standing up. “You look beautiful tonight.”

Scully smiled. “Thank you. So do you.”

“Thanks,” Natalie said. “Well, I guess I should head to my table. It’s back there somewhere.” She then squeezed Mulder’s bicep, saying “Let me know about tonight,” before walking off.

Scully turned an incredulous look on Mulder but before he could say anything, Ritter had stood up behind her.

“Dana?” he said.

She turned to face him. “Agent Ritter.”

“I’d really like it if you called me Peyton.”

Mulder seethed.

“I’d really like it if you hadn’t shot me.”

He went wide-eyed. Mulder started laughing.

Scully smirked at Ritter. “I’m just kidding.”

Ritter let out a nervous laugh. “Funny. Listen… I’m really sorry about what happened. I thought about calling you or sending you an email, but it just seemed too impersonal. I wanted to be able to apologize again in person, you know, when you weren’t laying in a hospital bed. I really am sorry. If you had…” he sighed. “I never could’ve lived with myself.”

“Apology accepted,” Scully said, smiling.

“Well, I’m not finished. I also want to apologize for the way I acted, the way I treated you when we were working the case. I was very disrespectful towards you, and I feel badly. I may not have put it in the report, because I really don’t need everyone at work looking at me like I’m a lunatic, but… you were right about Fellig. And I want to apologize for my behavior.”

She nodded. “Apology accepted again. So what brings you to the banquet?”

“Oh, I’m getting one of the Public Service Awards. We caught Matthew Eric Stern.”

Scully looked at him, impressed. “He was in the FBI Top Ten list. That was you?”

“Yep,” Ritter asked, smiling at her. “Uh… can I get you a drink from the bar?”

She hesitated. “Sure… I’ll have a glass of Chianti.”

“Coming right up,” Ritter said enthusiastically. “You look very beautiful, by the way.”

Scully gave him a half smile. “Uh… thank you.”

Mulder stared at them. What the fuck was going on here?

Ritter then walked away towards the bar. Scully sat down in her chair and turned to face her partner, who was staring at her.

“Why are you being nice to him, Scully? He shot you. He almost killed you.” He suddenly remembered Scully’s naked body in front of him and running his hand over her, to caress the scar Ritter’s bullet had left behind.

She stared at him. “Yes, Mulder. He shot me. And it was an accident. Accidents happen. I shot _you_ , Mulder. And that was on purpose!”

“Two completely different situations, Scully.”

She rolled her eyes. He grumbled to himself.

Ritter returned. “Here’s your glass of wine, Dana.”

Mulder shot him an icy glare. One more “Dana” outta him and he was gonna punch this clown in the throat.

As Ritter sat down, the other occupants of the table, fellow award recipients, took their seats as well. The program was about to begin.

*****

Two hours went by, awards being handed out and speeches being made, special videos played featuring what the FBI had done in the past year by way of charitable donations, community projects, and victim assistance programs. Mulder would’ve been bored out of his mind if Scully hadn’t been sitting next to him. She didn’t talk to him much, and she kept getting up from the table to talk to someone she knew or use the women’s room. She seemed restless. Maybe she just didn't want to be near him. He tried to push that thought away.

But Mulder could look at her whenever she was sitting next to him at the table. He watched her small hands move about the table in front of her, from her purse to her glass of wine or glass of water, her tiny wrists attached to firm, round arms, her gold watch sparkling on her left hand, the milky skin of her shoulders and neck. He fantasized kissing that neck and pushing her spaghetti straps down off her shoulders. He’d gaze at her cleavage, the tops of her breasts quivering with her movement. The thought that he’d never again be able to touch her soft, perfectly round breasts, or suck a taut, pink nipple into his mouth filled him with anguish. He wished he could read her mind. If there was ever a time when he wished he could have that ability back, this was certainly it.

Assistant Director Alvin Kersh and Assistant Director Gregory Roberts took the podium to introduce the next Public Service Award recipients. Scully turned to look at Mulder. His eyes met hers. They both gave each other looks of dismay. Of course. Of course this was going to be their award. Kersh and Roberts spoke of Cradock Marine Bank and the lives of over 35 people inside the bank that day, employees and customers, and not to mention the millions of dollars of property damage prevented, because of two agents who prevented Bernard Oates from using the bomb he had strapped to his chest. And now Bernard Oates was going to prison for a very long time.

“This Public Service Award goes to Special Agent Dana Scully and Special Agent Fox Mulder,” finished Kersh.

Roberts then broke in. “Whom I’m sure most of you are more familiar with his real name, Spooky.”

Sprinkled laughter could be heard throughout the venue. Mulder shook his head and sighed. Scully felt hot anger flood her stomach, like molten lava.

“Anyways,” Kersh continued, giving a flinty sideways glance at Roberts, who seemed pretty pleased with himself. “We’d like to call Special Agent Scully to the stand to collect the award.”

Lots of applause erupted, most notably from the group of tables everyone knew as the Quantico section, where everyone was giving Scully a standing ovation, whistling and cheering. Mulder smiled at her. She stood up. For most of the day, she had been terrified of going up there and had hoped Mulder would do most of the talking. She had no idea what she’d even say about what happened at the bank. Partly because she didn’t really fully understand herself how Mulder knew Oates had a bomb and that Pamela Hamilton was the one who could stop him. But ever since arriving at the venue, she’d gotten angrier and angrier as the night went on. And as Scully walked to the stage, she didn’t feel nervous at all. Righteous indignation was carrying her all the way.

She blew right past Roberts without even acknowledging him. Kersh then handed Scully the plaque with her and Mulder’s names engraved. _Thankfully, they’ve left “Spooky” off it_ , she thought bitterly. She then approached the podium and set the plaque down.

“Thank you. Um… I really did nothing at Cradock Marine Bank. I mean, I was there, but I only did what Agent Mulder told me to do. I had no idea why he asked me to take Pamela Hamilton from her parked car outside the bank, but I did it anyways, unquestioningly. Because I know, as much as it irritates me sometimes, that Agent Mulder tends to be right about things most of the time. Almost every single time, actually. It’s incredibly annoying.”

Sprinkled laughter could be heard throughout the audience. Mulder chuckled.

“I have no idea how his brain works, how he is able to make connections and figure out the truth based on his gut feelings, and his ability to read people and situations.”

Scully sighed. She looked over at her table, and her eyes caught Mulder’s. He was staring at her.

“Um… working with Agent Mulder is challenging, frustrating, infuriating… terrifying, and… exciting. He has taken me farther than anyone ever has. He’s pushed me mentally, emotionally, spiritually. He opened my eyes and woke me up; allowed me to attain knowledge of the world around me that I had no idea of before.”

Mulder sat, eyes wide, staring at Scully. He wasn’t expecting this.

“I think the real public service is that someone like Agent Mulder is even in the FBI. Someone with his brilliance, his passion, his keen sense of justice, his empathy, his inherent goodness. It is because of these things that Bernard Oates was unable to set off that bomb. I think everyone in this room should be thankful that Agent Mulder is here, and should be proud of everything he’s accomplished. I know that I am. Thank you.”

The room was silent as Scully stepped away from the podium, until the Quantico section started with the cheering and applause, and most everyone else eventually began clapping.

Mulder sat, bewildered, as she walked off the stage and was ushered through a side door to get her picture taken. Now that Scully had left the stage, her anger has dissipated and her stomach was filling with nervousness. Now they all knew. Everyone in that room knew how she felt about him. Oh, God. After getting her picture taken for the FBI newsletter and the local newspapers, she walked back out to her table with the plaque.

Agent Ritter stared at her as she sat down, not quite knowing what to say. “That was… some speech,” he said.

Scully didn’t bother with a response. She looked at Mulder.

“I thought you were going to talk about Bernard and Pam and the bomb,” he said, with a puzzled look.

Scully sighed. _Well, almost everyone._

Later, as Mulder was making his way back to the table from the bathroom, he checked his watch: 10:13 pm.

“Mulder?”

He turned to see Agent Natalie Black. He wished this girl would leave him alone.

“So… did you want to hang out tonight?” she asked, smiling. Her chocolate brown eyes giving off suggestiveness.

Mulder sighed. “Agent Black…”

“Natalie,” she said, pointedly, still smiling at him.

He grew increasingly annoyed. “Okay, _Natalie._ Look, I am almost 38 years old. I do not _hang out._ Have a nice night.”

As Natalie stared after him, Mulder walked with purpose away from her and towards his table. When he arrived back at the table, he’d found Scully wasn’t there. He scanned the Quantico section for her, but couldn’t see her over there. He sighed, and sat down. Mulder couldn’t believe there was still another 30 minutes or so until this thing was over. He looked at the plaque Scully had gotten. She had placed it on the table in front of his chair. He supposed she thought it really belonged to him. He then noticed there was a folded up piece of paper underneath, and then pulled it out from under the plaque. The handwriting was Scully’s and with the same distinct black ink she’d used to change her place card.

“Mulder,

I wanted to go home, but I didn’t want to force you to leave early. In case you might’ve made plans for afterwards with Natalie. I’m taking a taxi home, so don’t worry about it. I’ll see you Monday morning at the office.”

Why in the world would he want to stay there a minute longer than her? He didn't wanna be there if she wasn't. Natalie? For fuck's sake. And… what the hell? _Monday?_ Why would he have to wait until Monday to see her? That’s two days from now. He wasn't waiting two fucking days. _  
_

Mulder, with anger starting to rise up in the pit of his stomach, grabbed the plaque and shoved Scully's note in his pocket. As he glanced down at the table, he saw her place card, with her handwritten "Mrs. Spooky." He stared at it, before quickly grabbing it and shoving it in his pocket to join her note. Mulder made his way to to the lobby, and after retrieving his trench coat, left the hotel and drove towards Georgetown with thoughts of Scully and that black spaghetti strap dress filling his mind.


	28. "Radar love."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder shows up at Scully's apartment after the banquet. 
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Active Child – “Calling in the Name of Love”
> 
> She was someone that you wanted  
> Someone that you'll never know now  
> And I know you want reasons  
> For going down  
> And now I'm falling  
> Into this world I don't know  
> Can't go home  
> Home to the ghost
> 
> Keep it all with you  
> You can take it but you're never gonna see  
> All the lies that were spoken  
> Fixin' me to leave  
> But did we waste it  
> I want somebody to believe  
> That we were falling  
> Into the world  
> We tore the wings where we belong  
> And you're never gonna know until she's gone
> 
> That's why I'm still calling  
> Calling in the name of love  
> Never stop calling  
> Calling in the name of love  
> That's why I'm still calling  
> Calling in the name of love  
> Never stop calling  
> Calling in the name of love
> 
> It took three whole years to fall apart  
> And another ten years to mend our hearts
> 
> Is there someone that you're wanting  
> Is there someone that you cannot live without  
> And I know you want reasons  
> But you never even had a doubt
> 
> And now you're falling  
> Into a river of the reasons that you cannot recall  
> You still hold on  
> Onto the ghost
> 
> Of another past lover  
> Someone that you never understood  
> Even when it went sideways  
> Intentions were always good
> 
> Maybe it was true  
> I want so badly to believe  
> We were holding  
> Into the world we tore the wings where we belong  
> And you're never gonna know until she's gone
> 
> That's why I'm still calling  
> Calling in the name of love  
> Never stop calling  
> Calling in the name of love  
> That's why I'm still calling  
> Calling in the name of love  
> Never stop calling  
> Calling in the name of love
> 
> It took three whole years to fall apart  
> And another ten years to mend our hearts

Scully had hung up her coat and kicked off her shoes, setting her purse and keys on the table near the door. She wandered into her kitchen and thought about having some tea. She wondered how Mulder would react to her note. He’d be angry, she knew he would. But then what? Would he call her? Would he ignore her? She hoped he’d react the way she had wanted him to. But either way, she knew she couldn’t stand sitting at that table with him any longer. She could feel the way he was staring at her; tingling sensations of desire would start to awaken at her center, and then she’d start squirming at her seat. She kept making excuses to get up and leave the table.

She then went into her bathroom, emptied her bladder, removed her earrings, and was about to take all the bobby pins out of her hair when she heard a loud knocking at her door. She froze, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Several emotions were hitting her all at once as a small smile broke out on her face: fear, anxiety, excitement, arousal.

She went and opened her door, seeing a visibly angry Mulder staring at her. She found that she was suppressing a desire to laugh.

“You fucking ditched me,” he said, as he walked past her and into her apartment.

“Well, now you know how it feels,” she quipped, before closing and locking her door.

He pursed his lips. “I want to talk.”

“Yeah? About what?” she replied, in the most bitingly sarcastic way she could manage.

Mulder felt hot anger rising up. He suddenly had an overwhelming urge to say something hurtful, something shocking, to pick a fight. He was sick of the silence, the distance. If he could get her angry enough, maybe she’d yell at him. At least they’d be talking, even if it was an argument.

He stared daggers at her. “It’s no wonder Jerse tried to throw you in his incinerator.”

Scully stared at him, speechless. And then she did something he was not expecting. She burst out laughing. “Oh my God, Mulder,” she said through her laughter. And then seeing the dumbfounded look on his face only made her laugh harder, clutching at her side and wiping away the tears leaking from her eyes. Eventually, her laughs subsided and she started trying to catch her breath, the stitch in her side dissipating.

“Do you want to throw me in your incinerator, Mulder?” she chuckled, as her breathing calmed. And then he saw it again, the twinkling mischief in her eyes.

As she locked eyes with him, she saw that his pupils had dilated and his breathing had quickened. They gazed at each other.

“No,” he said, not breaking his intense gaze. “I want to fuck you on the couch.”

Her mouth fell open, as more hot desire pooled at her aroused center.

And then they flew at each other, Scully’s arms going around Mulder’s neck as both his hands went under her ass, squeezing her through her dress and lifting her up, as she locked her legs around his hips. Her lips were on his, kissing him passionately. He walked them over to the couch in her darkened living room, sitting down, and she settled against his lap, straddling him as the hem of her dress slid up her thighs to her hips. As he saw the black garter straps attached to her thigh-high sheer black stockings, and at the same time reaching his hands around her hips to her ass to find she was wearing a thong, he groaned and the growing bulge in his pants became harder and thicker.

She pressed her body into his chest, and he held her tight to him. Scully’s tongue started to slowly brush across Mulder’s bottom lip, and they moaned when she entered his mouth, as he started to grind her hips against his swollen erection. Wet desire was dripping from her center, as he held onto her hips and drove her now throbbing clit back and forth over the hard cock protruding out of his tuxedo pants.

Scully’s hands went to Mulder’s bowtie, untying and throwing it to the floor. She then started to unbutton his shirt all the way down, finally pulling the white tuxedo shirt free of his pants and off his shoulders. It too was then thrown to the floor. Her hands went to his firm chest, running her fingers through the small patch of soft curls, before dragging a manicured finger across each nipple. He groaned, and pulled away from her mouth to look at her. She grinned at him.

“Scully, this dress has been driving me crazy all night,” Mulder breathed, as his hands moved from her hips and started unzipping it down her back, and then sliding the straps down and off her arms, exposing her bare breasts.

She was still grinning at him. She remembered shopping earlier that day, and when she tried this dress on she knew he would like it. She had reasoned to herself all afternoon that if Mulder had felt embarrassed and humiliated, as she had felt this morning, he would’ve left her apartment immediately. So maybe he didn’t regret what happened after all. She didn’t want things to go back to normal. She wanted things to change. The fear was still there, and there was a constant battle within her mind between her needs and her fears. But this was still a change, and it was better than nothing. She didn’t know what it meant, or where it would lead, but it was better than the alternative. She was trying desperately to push away her insecurities and that nagging voice inside her head because after knowing now what it was like to have sex with Mulder, she didn’t want to give it up. And right now, she didn’t want to have awkward conversations about feelings or have some kind of complicated discussion about what was going on between them. Right now she just wanted to come.

“That’s why I bought it this afternoon,” she whispered, leaning in closer until her lips were just lightly touching his. “I also paid $450 for it, so I don’t want to ruin it.” And she lifted the dress up from where it had pooled at her hips and off her body, tossing it to the other end of the couch.

Mulder stared at her in surprise. Where had this Scully been this morning? “And the, uh…” he panted. “The thong with the garter? Did you buy this today too?”

She bit her bottom lip, and nodded shyly. “I thought if things went well tonight, you’d get to see them,” she whispered in his ear.

He had a puzzled look, as he remembered the banquet. “Did… things go well tonight?”

Scully smiled into his ear. “I’d say they’re going pretty well, wouldn’t you?” she whispered.

Mulder chuckled.

She started grinding harder against his engorged cock, causing his head to swim and he lost all rational thought. If they didn’t stop this soon, he was going to finish inside his tuxedo pants. His mouth returned to her lips, passionately devouring them. And as his warm hands started to fondle her breasts, squeezing their weight in his palms and rolling her hardened nipples between his fingers, he stuck his tongue even deeper into her mouth.

The throbbing ache of her clit, having been in a state of dull, humming arousal nearly all night, was now intolerable. Her hands went to his pants, unbuttoning them, and after slightly lifting her hips off of his lap, pulled the zipper down. He broke free of their kiss, to look at her in wonder.

“Mulder, help me,” Scully whispered, sounding almost desperate.

His swollen cock was throbbing painfully at her words and he lifted his hips off the couch, as she pulled his pants down to his knees, before straddling him again. Mulder took his left hand to Scully’s face, his thumb at her cheek and fingers holding her head steady to gaze into her eyes. His other hand went between her legs, shoving aside the crotch of her black thong, and stroked her sopping wet center, gathering her juices up and around her engorged clit.

Scully started whimpering and rocking against his hand, her hands gripping his shoulders, with Mulder still not allowing her to move her face away from his. He removed his hand from her center, causing her to whimper again, and pulled his swollen erection out of his black boxer briefs. She scooched her hips up closer, craving his hard cock inside her inner walls. As she looked at him, Scully once again got the feeling that Mulder was searching her face for something as he gazed into her eyes.

“Scully?” he whispered, as he slowly started to drag the head of his engorged cock up and down her wet slit.

She started panting and squirming on his lap. “What?” she whimpered.

Mulder’s eyes were looking intently into her face. “Did you really mean all those things you said up on stage tonight? Or were you just trying to be my big defender against those people?”

Scully’s hands left his shoulders, to caress the sides of his face. “I meant every word,” she whispered. She then saw his eyes, blazing with desire, fill with love and affection. Her heart swelled.

After one last penetrating gaze into her eyes, Mulder smiling because she was open to him instead of closed down like she’d been earlier that morning, he saw she spoke the truth. He then released his hand from her face, bringing it down to guide her hips to his erection. She lifted herself slightly off of his lap, and then back down burying his hard cock to the hilt inside her cunt.

Scully’s eyes widened with shock as her hips convulsed against him and she moaned. “Oohh, Mulder, I’m gonna come.”

He was surprised. “Already?” He couldn’t believe this was happening. She’d been so distant this morning and she’d made no indication at the banquet that she wanted this to happen. And then it dawned on him. _That note._ Did she know he’d come over there? Or did she just hope that he would?

She closed her eyes tight, and after just a few upward strokes of his thrusting cock against her swollen, throbbing clit, her muscles clenched, and she was moaning loudly; her arms flying around his neck and gripping herself to him as she rode out her waves of pleasure on his lap.

Once she had come down off her high, he started to move to lay her down on the couch.

“No, wait, Mulder. I don’t want to stain the couch. Let’s go to the bedroom now.”

He then stood up, stepping out of the tuxedo pants that had fallen to his ankles, and carried her, with her arms and legs locked around him, to the bedroom. After turning down the comforter and top sheet, Scully lay down on the mattress and watched Mulder pull off his boxer briefs and socks, before he climbed on and laid down next to her.

She then forced him over onto his back and straddled his hips, lowering herself down to his chest, and kissed him passionately. His hands came up between them to fondle her breasts, and then his hands went to the sides of her waist, sliding her body upwards so that her breasts came to his mouth. He took turns, sucking the taut nipple of one breast into his mouth before moving his attention to the other.

She moaned and writhed against him. She slightly turned and glanced behind her to see Mulder’s engorged cock, standing at attention, as his hips thrust involuntarily, straining for her. And Scully knew what she wanted, but suddenly felt insecurity overwhelm her, the sense of embarrassment and humiliation she’d felt that morning started to well up. But she didn’t want insecurity or fear to hold her back right now. So she braced herself against the insecurity, and went for it.

Scully started to slide herself back down, moving her breasts away from Mulder’s face, and after kissing him passionately on the mouth, started to make her way down, kissing and licking his neck, moving her mouth over his chest and dragging her tongue over his sensitive nipples. He groaned and his mind turned to mush.

As she made her way down toward his pelvis, kissing and dragging her tongue across his firm stomach, he suddenly realized what she was about to do. _Oh, my God._ His cock throbbed painfully. But then images swam in front of his mind, of the various scenes from adult movies featuring women with cocks prodding their heads and come all over their faces. The thought of inserting Scully into such a scene turned Mulder’s stomach.

“Scully, wait, stop,” he whispered.

She removed her lips from the trail of dark hair running down from his belly button. “What’s wrong?”

Mulder was breathing heavily, and he hesitated. He thought about telling her the real reason, but then quickly changed his mind.

“Nothing. That’s just not what I want, I want you up here,” he said, after sitting and reaching to pull her up towards him.

She gave him a skeptical look. She’d never known any man to turn down oral stimulation. But then his mouth was on hers and she stopped thinking. He thought of how he'd fantasized that morning about the different ways he wanted to have her, and he turned their bodies so that she was underneath him. Then he flipped her over so that she was lying on her stomach.

Scully’s eyes went wide and the aching throb of her clit returned. Mulder stared at the skin of her back, and his eyes zeroed in on the scar on her lower back from where she'd had her tattoo removed. He wasn't sure how this made him feel, and pushed his confused thoughts away as he brushed his hands over her, caressing her, and then moving down to her soft, round ass, running his hands over the thin material of her black thong and down the backs of her thighs to where her stockings began.

“You are so beautiful, Scully,” Mulder whispered. She whimpered, burying her face into her arms.

He couldn’t wait any longer and then moved to hover over her, bringing one hand underneath her pelvis to lift her hips off the mattress and his other hand holding her upper back down. And as her legs parted slightly, he then pushed aside her thong and guided his swollen cock to her entrance, burying himself into the tight heat of her dripping wet cunt.

“Oh my God, Scully…,” Mulder groaned, as he lowered himself over her back, placing his hands on the mattress. She moaned in response, and as his cock stroked the sensitive spot in the front wall of her cunt with each downward thrust, she felt the exquisite tension build until it seemed like every muscle in her body was straining for the relief, and the knuckles of her hands had gone white as they gripped the sheet in front of her.

And as Mulder watched, wide-eyed, as Scully snaked her right hand underneath herself to rub her clit, he felt his own tension in his groin and balls build, and then wildly explicit language that was littered with her name and descriptions of her cunt was once again pouring out from his mouth. These words from Mulder caused Scully’s tension to finally burst and she was coming hard, moaning and crying out. Her clenching muscles and her cries brought him to orgasm, and his loud moans filled the bedroom as his hot seed filled her womb.

He collapsed on top of her, breathing hard and smiling at the nervous giggling ushering forth from Scully, whose face was buried in her arms. He wished he could bottle that sound and take it with him everywhere. And as Mulder lay on top of her, his erection deflating inside her, he closed his eyes and once again prayed for a miracle, before sliding out and falling onto the mattress beside a giggling Scully.


	29. "Do you ever wish things were different?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully succumbs to grief, but finds some comfort. Mulder says "we" a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depeche Mode – “I Am You”
> 
> You have bound my heart with subtle chains  
> So much pleasure that it feels like pain  
> So entwined now that we can't shake free  
> I am you and you are me
> 
> No escaping from the mess we're in  
> So much pleasure that it must be sin  
> I must live with this reality  
> I am yours eternally
> 
> There's no turning back  
> We're in this trap  
> No denying the facts  
> No, no, no  
> No excuses to give  
> I'm the one you're with  
> We've no alternative  
> No, no, no
> 
> Dark obsession in the name of love  
> This addiction that we're both part of  
> Leads us deeper into mystery  
> Keeps us craving endlessly
> 
> Strange compulsions that I can't control  
> Pure possession of my heart and soul  
> I must live with this reality  
> I am you and you are me  
> I am you and you are me  
> I am you and you are me  
> I am you and you are me
> 
> There's no turning back  
> We're in this trap  
> No denying the facts  
> No, no, no  
> No excuses to give  
> I'm the one you're with  
> We've no alternative  
> No, no, no

She slowly opened her eyes to see Mulder sleeping beside her, as the early morning light of Sunday, October 3rd shone through her bedroom window. She smiled as she looked at him, but soon her mind flooded with fear. At some point over the last six years, Scully had allowed herself to fall in love with Mulder, which left her vulnerable to the pain and loss she’d been trying to avoid all her life. She knew that one day she would lose him, and the fear of this happening suddenly seized her.

A case could go badly wrong. They’d had so many close calls as it was. There’d been so many times when she almost had lost him. When would their luck run out? There could come a day when she couldn’t save him, and the thought filled her with dread. Even if that didn’t happen, one day Mulder would grow old and die. He’d be gone. Scully didn’t fully understand why the concept of death scared her so much. People had been born, lived their lives, and then grown old and died since the beginning of time. It was the circle of life, and it was happening every day all over the world, but it terrified her.

And now she knew what it was like to be held by Mulder, kissed and caressed by him, and what it felt like to reach ecstasy in his arms. She knew there was no going back now. If something were to happen to him, if she were to lose him, her life would be over. Who would she be without him? Sometimes she didn’t know where she ended and he began. Half of her heart, her mind, and her soul would be ripped from her. How could she ever endure such pain? As she lay there looking at him, she was subconsciously doing what she’d always done in her past relationships: giving over her body and mind while trying to disengage her heart. She was trying to keep him out as much as possible.

A minute or two after waking, Scully also became aware of different feeling entirely: an uncomfortable wetness between her legs and a sickening sensation growing in the pit of her stomach. _Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Not right now!_ She started panicking, and quickly rolled out of bed as quietly as possible. She stared down at the area of the mattress where she’d been sleeping, but didn’t see any spots. _Thank God._ She stepped over her thong and nylons on the floor and then quickly, but quietly, made her way around the bed and across the room to the bathroom door, and closed it behind her.

After sitting on the toilet, she emptied her bladder and her eyes confirmed what her body had already told her. She suddenly remembered that Dr. Parenti had told her on Friday that her period would come any day now, but she’d completely pushed it from her mind. Mulder had served as a useful distraction from her grief, which was now starting to overpower her. The embryos were gone. Her dead, lifeless womb had destroyed and expelled his children. Scully’s eyes filled with tears, and she stifled a sob, as her insides began to churn in agony.

*****

Mulder slowly awoke to the sound of the shower. He lay there listening, drifting between sleep and consciousness until a completely different sound coming from the bathroom made him sit up and stare at the door. He could hear her crying, and to Mulder’s dismay, he realized her cries sounded more like gut-wrenching sobs. He jumped out of bed, pulled on his black boxer briefs, and walked to the bathroom door.

Finding the door unlocked, Mulder opened it and walked inside to hear her sobs become louder. The room was filled with hot steam. He then stepped on a dark bobby pin, and as he looked down, he saw that there were bobby pins scattered all over the bathroom floor, as if they’d been thrown. He walked to the door and pulled it open to see a weeping Scully sitting on the shower floor, arms wrapped around her legs and her head bent over her knees, with the hot water running over her back.

“Scully?” he said, his voice filled with concern, as he crouched down to look at her.

“Go away, Mulder,” she sobbed.

He felt his heart sink into his stomach. “Scully, what’s the matter? What’s happened?”

“Mulder, just leave me alone! Please!”

He didn’t know what to do. What could’ve happened to make her so upset? She’d been fine when they went to sleep the night before.

“Scully, tell me. What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

She raised her head to look at him, her dark makeup from the previous night running down her face. “I SAID GO AWAY, MULDER! GO AWAY!”

He sighed, and then stood up to close the door as her face returned to her knees. He then left the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, and sank to the bedroom floor, keeping his back against the door to the bathroom, sitting with his elbows on his knees. He sat listening to Scully’s sobs, feeling completely helpless.

After a few minutes, he got up and pulled on his socks, and then walked back out to the living room to put on his tuxedo shirt and pants. He grabbed his bowtie and slipped his feet back into his dress shoes. He opened the front door, and after hesitating to listen to her continued sobs, he walked out and shut the door behind him.

As Mulder approached his car, he started berating himself for leaving it outside Scully’s apartment building for the second night in a row. When he got into the driver’s seat, he noticed his trench coat and tuxedo jacket lying in the passenger seat. He remembered taking them off just before he’d gone inside her building. He wondered why he did that. Did he know what would happen when he went up there last night? Or did he just hope something would happen? He then turned on the car and drove away, before he could start to analyze his subconscious too much.

On his way home from Georgetown, Mulder drove to the nearest Dunkin' Donuts to grab some coffee and a bagel. On his way out, he noticed that Agent Natalie Black was standing in line with some friends and she was staring at him. He saw that she was wearing a pair of black yoga pants and a pink jacket, and that she was giving him the once-over, no doubt noticing he was still wearing his clothes from last night. A stony expression then came over her face, and she turned her back to him. He sighed and rolled his eyes as he walked out the door.

After Mulder walked through his apartment door 15 minutes later, he took a shower and changed into a pair of blue jeans and a gray long-sleeved shirt. He then sat down at his desk and played the two messages on his answering machine.

“Hello, Fox. It’s your mother. I haven’t heard from you since you went back home. Give me a call when you get a chance, if you’re not too busy.”

He sighed, as the voice of Langly filled the room.

“Mulder, we haven’t heard from you in a long time. Where you been? We haven’t turned up anything else with the MUFON groups; looks like it’s at a dead end. Anyways, we’re having a Star Wars marathon on Sunday, if you’re interested. We’ll be making chicken enchiladas. Oh, and bring Agent Scully by sometime. We haven’t seen her in ages. I think Frohike is going through withdrawal. Make sure you delete this message after you listen to it.”

He then realized that he had never actually explained to Scully what he’d been doing over the summer. He thought he told her that he had learned of Diana performing experiments on MUFON members, but he never explained to Scully what those experiments actually were. Suddenly, the thought of telling her about those women who continuously were made pregnant only to suffer miscarriage after miscarriage turned his stomach, and this seemed like knowledge he’d much rather take to the grave.

And now Mulder couldn’t get his mind off Scully, and the image of her sitting on her shower floor crying her eyes out. He still had no idea what would’ve caused her to become so distraught. He just knew that she was pushing him away, and he was also no stranger to her defense mechanisms. Then that voice inside his head told him that maybe this was how it should be, that what was happening between them couldn’t really lead anywhere good, that they were endangering both their lives by becoming more involved with each other than they already were, that what had happened the last couple nights had been merely hormones and tension, and that she could never truly want a worthless piece of shit like him.

But then Mulder told that voice to shut the fuck up. He liked what was happening between them and he wanted it to continue, no matter how much his doubts and fears try to convince him what a terrible idea it was. He knew she had told him to go away, but he didn’t want to go away. He wanted to be there, and deep down he believed Scully wanted him there too even if she didn’t want to admit it. So if he had to force himself into her personal life until she finally accepted his presence there, then so be it.

He checked his watch; it was 11:21 am. He then stood up and walked to his bedroom, opening the door, and grabbed his keys and wallet out of the pockets of his tuxedo pants that were lying on the bed. As he did this, her note and place card from the banquet fell out of the front right pocket. He bent down to pick them up, and smirked at the note before tossing it on the bed. He then stared again at the place card with “Mrs. Spooky” written in Scully’s handwriting. Mulder smiled to himself before sticking it inside his wallet.

He got back in his car and in less than 15 minutes he’d arrived back at her apartment building. He knocked on her apartment door, but there was no answer. He knocked again; nothing. He sighed and took out his keys, unlocking the door. It was quiet inside and there was no sign of her in the living room or the kitchen. He walked to her bedroom door, and opened it to see Scully curled up on the bed in the fetal position wearing her bathrobe. She was asleep.

As Mulder shut the door, he left it partly open so that he could listen for her. Then he went out to her living room, turned on the TV, and muted the volume. He planted his feet on the coffee table, anticipating a long Sunday afternoon of NFL football.

*****

After several hours, Scully eventually blinked herself awake. As she lay there in her quiet bedroom, she wished she hadn’t yelled at Mulder. She wished she hadn’t forced him to leave. Why does she do this? She wanted someone to love and care for her, but she just couldn't allow herself to accept that loving care, and especially from him. So she pushed him away, because that was much easier than talking about how she felt or what she was thinking about. That made two mornings in a row where she completely shut down and blocked him out.

What must he think? And what if she ruined everything? What if he’d rather stay away than have to put up with her? What if things went back to normal and he wouldn't want to touch her again? Her eyes filled with tears. But then she heard it, that sound, and suddenly the tears streaming down her face were not brought about by anguish. She’d know that sound anywhere: the crunching of sunflower seeds. Mulder had come back.

She walked out to the living room, to see him sitting on her couch watching TV and popping sunflower seeds.

“You’re here.”

Mulder turned to look at Scully standing there in her bathrobe, her face blotchy with emotion. She’d been crying again. “I’m here,” he sighed.

“But… you left.”

“Yep, I did,” he replied. “You didn’t expect me to sit around here in a tuxedo all day, did you?”

She chuckled, and then averted her eyes, staring at her hands in front of her. She felt embarrassed over what happened in the bathroom earlier. She wanted to apologize. “Mulder, I…”

“Scully, are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna come over here and sit on the couch with me?” he asked, interrupting her.

She gave him a small smile, and then walked over to sit next to him as he unmuted the TV and turned the volume up. He then put his arm up on the couch behind her head.

“What teams are playing?” she asked.

He looked over, raising his eyebrows at her. “Do you honestly care?”

“No,” she said, chuckling. He laughed.

She eyed his bag of Spitz sunflower seeds. “I hope you’re not making a huge mess with those things.”

He grinned. “If there’s a mess, I’ll clean it up.”

She gave him a skeptical look. She then sighed; she felt sick, but she also felt like she could eat a horse. She scooched herself a little further away from Mulder, but before he could waste too much time worrying about this action, she had laid down to put her head in his lap. He smiled, and his hand went to her hair, brushing it back from her forehead.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked gently.

She sighed. “No, not really.”

He hesitated; he wasn’t quite sure how to go about this. It was all so strange and new, and yet somehow felt completely natural as if not much had changed between them at all. “Do you… want… to do… something else?”

She blushed, and bit her bottom lip. “Um, no…”

“Okay, maybe later,” he replied.

Scully sighed. She should just tell him. “Well… I, uh… got my period this morning.”

He blinked. “Oh.” Having lived with a woman for nearly five years, he knew what that meant. Her body was off-limits. He sighed.

“It’s only for a few days, Mulder,” she chuckled. “We can have sex again when it’s over.”

He turned a surprised stare down at Scully, whose head was in his lap facing the television, and a smile started to break out over his face. Did she really just say…? Yes, yes she did. So, this… thing… he guessed it was a real thing now. They're just gonna keep doing this. _Well… okay, then._

And then he remembered the scene in the bathroom earlier. “Scully… is that why you were crying this morning?”

She sighed. “Sort of…”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I didn’t want to talk about it, Mulder.”

He sighed. Was she ever going to want to talk about anything?

She wanted to ask him something, but she didn’t want to come across weak and needy. “Um… are you planning on spending the night again?”

He smiled down at her, but then remembered his parked car on her street. “I don’t think I can. I drove my car over here.”

She was confused. “So?”

“Well, that’ll make the third night in a row that my car was outside your apartment."

“What’s your point?” She didn’t think that was an explanation.

“The point is someone could see it out there, Scully.”

She chuckled. “Like who?”

“Someone from the FBI. Or the DoD. Or, I don’t know… _them_.”

She sighed. “But, Mulder, they’re all dead.”

He looked down at her. His hand once again returned to her hair, running his fingers through her messy red waves, and he thought of the devil that haunted his dreams and turned them into nightmares. “Not all of them, Scully,” he said quietly.

“Mulder, I doubt the Justice Department really cares about us anymore. Unless we end up being the cause of some sort of public embarrassment for the Bureau. And I think the Defense Department stopped giving a fuck about us the moment they cut your head open and left you to die.” She could feel anger rising up as she remembered almost losing him just a few short months ago.

He didn’t know what to say to this. He thought he should change the subject. “Scully… I want to talk about Dr. Parenti.”

She knitted her brows.

“Tell me what he told you, Scully.”

She sighed. “Dr. Parenti said that most women go through several IVF cycles before one actually works, and that he thinks I should try again.”

He hesitated. “Do you… want... to try again?”

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to try again, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask him to go through the process a second time. Things had changed now, and it could lead to awkward conversations about the future and what they were and what they wanted and she just didn’t want to think about that.

“Scully, how are we gonna get a miracle if we don’t even try?”

She sighed. _Miracles._ If science couldn't fix her, then she didn’t see how a miracle could.

He didn’t want her to quit. “You’re not giving up, are you?”

She didn’t reply.

“Scully, if there is a chance it could work, we should take it. I don’t mind going up there to deposit another sample.”

She bit her lip and knitted her brows again.

“Scully, look at me.”

She turned her head in his lap so that she was looking up into his face.

“Do you want to try again?”

She swallowed and after looking Mulder in the eyes, she said “Yes.”

“Good. When can we start?” he asked.

She sighed. “After my next menstrual cycle, whenever that is.” She cursed her irregular periods.

He nodded. “Well okay, then.”

Scully desperately wanted to change the subject. “Mulder, I’m starving. Let’s order a pizza.”

*****

Later that night, she lay awake long after Mulder had fallen asleep next to her. Things were changing, and now that she was starting to get what she wanted, the fear was welling up. She still couldn’t bring herself to open up, share her real feelings, and speak her mind. She found herself always on the verge of saying what she wanted to say, but then she’d put her guard up.

There were so many things she wanted to say to him. She had never felt this way before. Sure, she’d been smitten with different men over the years, and infatuated many times. But to be in love, this was completely different. Sometimes she could feel it painfully throbbing underneath her ribs. Scully finally realized why lust and sex and love could drive people insane. Why empires had been built and destroyed, and wars waged over it. There was nothing more terrifying, or more wonderful, than being in love.

There were many moments during the evening, while they were on the couch or when they’d gone to bed together for the first time for the sole purpose of sleep and nothing else, when she had an overwhelming desire to blurt out the words. There were moments when the words felt like they were just on the tip of her tongue, but then her old friend self-preservation would kick in.

She’d be a fool to say it before he did, if he even did feel that way. She could imagine the shocked look on his face, and the awkwardness to follow. No way in hell was she ever going to put herself in that situation. And as Scully’s mind started to surrender to sleep, she remembered some of the things he had said earlier: _“How are we gonna get a miracle if we don’t even try? … If there is a chance it could work, we should take it. … When can we start?”_   What did he mean, exactly, by “we?" But as she watched Mulder’s sleeping face, she knew that she’d never have the courage to ask him.


	30. “Well, it seems to me that the best relationships, the ones that last, are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully return to work. He ponders their new transition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aqualung - "Can't Get You Out Of My Mind"
> 
> A kiss is not just a kiss  
> A smile is more than a smile  
> Maybe we get together, maybe forever  
> Maybe just for a while
> 
> I've seen the look in your eyes  
> I've seen you wondering why  
> There's a center of gravity  
> Brings you near to me  
> Nearer all the time
> 
> And I'm petrified, hypnotized  
> Every time you walk by  
> And I can't get you out of my...
> 
> Thought you'd never be mine  
> I thought I was wasting my time  
> Darling, every day I think of you  
> I can't believe it's true  
> That you're here by my side
> 
> And I'm petrified, hypnotized  
> Every time you walk by  
> And I'm hypnotized, petrified  
> Every time you walk by  
> And I can't get you out of my mind
> 
> I can't get you out of my mind  
> I can't get you out of my mind

_He was walking down the familiar beach, towards the eight year old boy and the sand UFO. To his surprise, Scully was not hiding from him. He didn’t have to go deep into the woods to find her. There was no hidden cabin for him to take her in his arms and fulfill his unsatisfied desires. She was on the beach with the boy, and helping him with the UFO. Her hair was in soft, red waves, and it was a lot longer than he remembered, her face was make-up free and freckles had popped out all over it. She was smiling. She was happy. And so was the young boy. There was no Smoking Man anywhere, no one to invade this bliss and turn it into despair. The way that she and the boy looked at each other caused his heart to swell with happiness and pride. They both greeted him with warm smiles, and then he knelt down on the sand with them, helping them sculpt the UFO.  
_

Mulder awoke to the alarm he’d set on his cell phone. He reached out to the bedside table to grab his phone and shut off the alarm; it was 6:00 am. And the screen told him it was Monday, October 4th. He groaned. He looked over at her sleeping beside him.

“Scully?” he said softly.

“Hmm?” she answered, not opening her eyes, snuggling up closer to him.

He smiled. “I’m gonna go home now and get ready for work. I’ll see you at the office.”

“Okay,” she answered sleepily.

Upon hearing her apartment’s front door close, Scully’s eyes flew open. _Work. The office._ Her mind went into overdrive. Would the events of the weekend have an effect on the atmosphere at work? Sometimes she felt like what had happened between her and Mulder was written all over her. Would people at the FBI notice? Would they betray themselves with looks or body language? They’d have to maintain a professional manner at all times while at work. How difficult would that be when they’re locked away down in the basement by themselves?

She got up out of bed and headed to the bathroom, with her mind on what might lay in store for her when she got to work. She went over to the toilet to see the seat up, rolled her eyes, and then slammed it shut. After emptying her bladder, she got into the shower and her thoughts consumed her. How did Mulder look at her now? Would he treat her differently? Would he still treat her as an equal? Would he now feel he had to protect her even more? Would they be able to have differences of opinion, and even arguments, over a case and leave it at their office door? Or would these disagreements carry over into after-hours? Or, in turn, would personal disagreements end up carrying over into their working relationship?

The boundaries between her and Mulder had now become blurred, and she found herself needing to create new ones. But how to do that without him thinking that she was establishing rules? Was she worrying for nothing? Should they just go with the flow and see what naturally developed? She sighed. She supposed they’d just have to find a way to deal with whatever circumstances that might arise in the future.

*****

At 8:17 am Scully walked into the basement office to find Mulder sitting at the desk, wearing a black suit, looking into the computer screen. She felt butterflies fill her stomach, not knowing what to expect. He looked up at her as she came in and watched her hang up her jacket. She then she did what she does best, and she put her guard up as she turned around and walked towards the desk.

He looked at her. “Good morning.” He felt like her expression was unreadable. She was closed to him again.

“Good morning,” she said, sitting into her regular chair facing him.

“Um… Skinner wants to see us in his office at 8:30.”

“Okay,” she replied. “Anything in the email, or on the voicemail?”

He sighed. “No. I feel like nothing interesting has come across my desk in a long time. Other than that info Danny sent me.”

She arched an eyebrow at him.

“I know, I know. I’m not going to Puerto Rico or Ellens Air Force Base. Danny couldn’t even get any more information, anyways.”

Scully suppressed a smirk. “What about our contacts?”

Mulder shook his head. “Nope. I haven’t received anything from our usual sources.”

She thought about that for a second. “Oh! Remember that message from awhile back? Someone from MUFON. I think his name was Solometo? What was that about?”

He shifted in his chair, feeling uncomfortable. “Nothing but a dead end.”

Scully sighed. “I guess we could send some feelers out to the field offices. See if anyone has anything that might interest us.”

Mulder nodded. “Yeah, I suppose.”

She checked her watch. “We should probably go see Skinner now.”

He nodded and shut off the computer, and they left the office to make their way to the elevator. On the first floor several people stepped onto the elevator to join Mulder and Scully, including Stacey Palmer, Kersh’s secretary. She gave him an icy stare before turning her back to him. Scully turned behind her to look up and catch Mulder’s eye. He threw a bewildered look down at her, shaking his head in disbelief and shrugging his shoulders. She smirked at him, but he wasn’t that amused.

On the third floor, several people exited and entered the elevator. A male agent with blond hair who looked around 30 years old stepped onto the elevator and when he caught sight of Mulder, headed to the back of the compartment to stand next to him.

“Spooky, you dog,” the agent said amusedly, keeping his voice low.

Mulder stared at him.

The agent pursed his lips. “Agent Mulder, I mean. Sorry,” he said, throwing his hands up in a surrendering position.

“And you are?” he asked.

“Agent Henry Morehouse,” he said, reaching out his hand to shake Mulder’s.

He shook his hand slowly, not knowing where this was headed.

“Congratulations on your award, but I must say I’m even more impressed with the way you celebrated afterwards,” Agent Morehouse said, lowering his voice.

Mulder sensed Scully’s body go rigid as she stood in front of him. He stared at Agent Morehouse, furrowing his brows slightly.

Agent Morehouse shot him a conspiratorial look. “Natalie is the best looking chick on the third floor. I’m jealous, Spooky. I’m awfully jealous. You get the hottest babes around here,” he concluded, nodding his head towards Kersh’s secretary standing at the front of the compartment.

Mulder didn’t know how to respond to this and suddenly the doors opened on the fourth floor, most everyone starting to exit. As he and Scully started to walk towards Skinner’s office, he could see the slightly puzzled look on her face.

“Don’t ask me, Scully,” he sighed. “I have no idea either.”

Once they reached Skinner’s office, his secretary showed them inside and Skinner greeted them, asking them to sit at his desk.

“So, how was your weekend?” Skinner asked, leaning back in his chair.

Scully shifted in her seat, and re-crossed her legs. Mulder coughed.

“It… was fine, sir,” he finally said.

Skinner stared at them. “Well, did you enjoy yourselves at the banquet?”

“Not at the banquet, no,” he replied. Scully found herself staring at her lap, her hand picking at something non-existent on her navy blue skirt.

Skinner glanced between them, and then sighed. “Look, I’m sorry for the… tone of the banquet. The Deputy Director…” Skinner sighed again.

“It’s okay, sir,” she said, looking up. “It’s not like we didn’t know he had it out for Mulder.”

Skinner then shot them a stern look. “Which Mulder brought upon himself, in many ways, need I remind you.”

She sighed. Mulder shrugged.

Skinner shot him a pointed look before continuing. “Anyways, the reason I asked you both to come here is because I’ve noticed that you haven’t really had any new cases lately. I know the Oates trial interrupted your work for a while but I feel I need to tell you both that if you want to keep the X-Files open long-term, I suggest you start generating some successful cases as soon as possible.”

Scully stared at him. “That sounds almost like a threat, sir.”

Mulder turned his head sharply to look at her, and then back to Skinner.

Skinner sighed. “The Deputy Director is now paying a lot more attention to you than he was before, is all I’m saying. He doesn’t like you, Mulder. And he’ll gladly latch on to any valid reason to shut you down.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, and a knot of fear started to slowly tighten in her stomach.

Later that afternoon, just after 5:00 pm, Mulder and Scully exited the basement office, locking it behind them, and made their way to the parking garage. The day they’d spent in the office had been a quiet one. They’d called around and left messages with agents they knew at different field offices around the country, several of whom they’d met back in Colorado, to let them know if anything X-Files related came under their radar. They made contact with different sources from MUFON, NASA, and different science departments from several universities. The highlight of the day was their lengthy, and amusing, phone call with Mulder’s friend Chuck Burks, who was still running the Advanced Digital Imaging Lab at the University of Maryland. But even Chuck hadn’t heard anything through the grapevine that they could look into.

Mulder and Scully didn’t speak much, as their minds were occupied with the same disquieting thoughts. They each worried that this veiled threat from the Deputy Director would cause the other to have second thoughts about this new transition to their partnership. He worried that she would tell him that it was a bad idea and that for the sake of the X-Files, they’d have to nip it in the bud right now. She worried that he would tell her the exact same thing. And so they sat in silence, sharing the same fear.

Once they had reached the parking garage, and Scully turned in the direction of her car, Mulder finally broke his silence.

“Um, Scully?”

She turned back to look at him. “Yeah?”

He swallowed. “Am I… going… to see you tonight?” _Please say ‘yes.’_

She gave a sigh of relief and smiled at him, biting her lip. She walked back towards him, closing the distance between them. He could feel his heart pounding and thought that if Scully got any closer, she’d be able to hear it.

“I don’t think so, Mulder. Not tonight.”

He gave her a disappointed look, and then he started worrying again.

She looked at him sympathetically. “I just have so much I need to do, Mulder. Things I’ve been neglecting. I need to drop off my dry cleaning. I really need to see my mother. I have to go grocery shopping.”

He nodded. He momentarily had an urge to ask her if he could go with her to the grocery store and to visit her mother, but he wasn’t sure why. Then he realized how domestic that sounded, and he quickly pushed those confusing thoughts away.

Scully smiled at him. “Why don’t you come over in a few days, when… you know…”

He smirked and raised his eyebrows at her. “You’ll… be open for business?”

She blushed furiously and put her hand over her face, laughing. “Wow, Mulder. Thank you for putting it into such terms, but… yes.”

He grinned at her.

“How about Thursday?” Scully asked, still blushing and fighting a smile.

“Sounds good,” he replied, smiling back.

She started to walk away towards her car, but when she glanced back a moment later she saw that the smile was gone and his brows were furrowed. “Mulder, don’t worry,” she called out as she walked away. “It’s only a few days.”

*****

Early on Friday evening, October 15th, Mulder hailed a taxi and headed towards Scully’s apartment in Georgetown, anticipating the night ahead of him, and his thoughts turned to this recent development in their lives. They still hadn’t talked about this thing between them, this new transition their partnership had undertaken. They were partners, they were friends, and they were now having sex. Sometimes he felt like he should pinch himself, sometimes he still couldn't believe it was happening.

But they were still beyond definition. What were they now? He still had no idea. It was a relationship, but without all the relationship stuff that he had always associated with romantic couplings. Scully didn’t ask for flowers or gifts or flowery greeting cards or any of the things that the former women in his life had expected from him. There were no pet names or fluffy terms of endearment. He didn’t even think of them as a “couple” in any traditional way. He was Mulder and she was Scully, and now he got to see her naked. And the longer they went not talking about it, the easier it became to just not talk about it.

They were completely professional at work; their demeanor, conversation, and working relationship hadn’t gone through any real significant change. Although, he noticed that their discussions were less tense, she didn’t roll her eyes at his theories and ideas as much and she seemed to take things much more in stride, and she smiled a little more often, especially when she thought he wasn’t looking at her.

After work, they’d head to their separate cars in the parking garage, or sometimes he took a taxi when he was feeling paranoid, and both wind up at her apartment, with Mulder always arriving 20 minutes behind her and she’d greet him at the door with wet hair, freshly showered. Always her apartment. They never went to his. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but her place was closer to work, a lot cleaner, and there was actually food in the refrigerator.

Mulder usually sat in her kitchen and watched her cook dinner, which apparently took Scully some getting used to as she would complain that she couldn’t concentrate with him staring at her and she’d always try to get him to wait in the living room while she cooked. But he always resisted: he wanted to watch her. Then they’d sit at the table and eat together. Sometimes they’d discuss work, or something he had read in the newspaper or the current MUFON newsletter, or something interesting she had seen in one of the science journals she wrote articles for or something weird she’d heard from one of her friends at Quantico; sometimes they ate in comfortable silence.

They would then move to the couch in her living room and watch TV, but before long any interest in the television was abandoned for a make out session that inevitably led to their naked bodies groping, thrusting, and moaning in her bedroom. He would then leave a sleeping Scully at dawn, go home and shower, and then they’d both arrive at work, where they proceeded to act like the previous night had never happened. Cycle, rinse, repeat.

In the dark of Scully’s bedroom, she was open to him. She unquestioningly received pleasure and affection. In the light of day, she was closed off to him. There had been moments where he had, automatically and without even thinking about it, attempted some sort of public display of affection, like two days ago when they went to a diner for lunch and he unconsciously reached across the table to hold her hand. Scully pulled her hand back and looked at him like he had three heads. Although, later that night she was enthusiastic about celebrating his birthday and he remembered the sex being particularly good.

He wondered if they’d ever talk about what was happening, or what it meant, or where this was heading, or what would happen if the next IVF attempt actually succeeded. But then he thought that maybe it was better that they didn’t. This thing between them, this thing that had no definition, Mulder suddenly seemed scared to define it. Did it need to be defined? Did he need to explain it? Maybe he didn’t want to.


	31. "Smart is sexy."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully challenges Mulder, and then starts to let go of some of her own insecurity.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depeche Mode – “Welcome to My World”
> 
> Welcome to my world  
> Step right through the door  
> Leave your tranquilizers at home  
> You don't need them anymore
> 
> All the drama queens have gone  
> And the devil got dismayed  
> He packed up and fled this town  
> His master plan delayed
> 
> And if you stay a while  
> I'll penetrate your soul  
> I'll bleed into your dreams  
> You'll want to lose control
> 
> I'll weep into your eyes  
> I'll make your visions sing  
> I'll open endless skies  
> And ride your broken wings
> 
> Welcome to my world
> 
> We'll watch the sunrise set  
> And the moon begin to blush  
> Our naked innocence  
> Translucently too much
> 
> And I'll hold you in my arms  
> And keep you by my side  
> And we'll sleep the devil's sleep  
> Just to keep him satisfied
> 
> And if you stay a while  
> I'll penetrate your soul  
> I'll bleed into your dreams  
> You'll want to lose control
> 
> I'll weep into your eyes  
> I'll make your visions sing  
> I'll open endless skies  
> And ride your broken wings
> 
> Welcome to my world

On Friday night, October 15th, Mulder and Scully sat in her living room facing the television, he on the couch and she on the floor in front of him at the coffee table. They had ordered delivery from an Italian restaurant in the neighborhood earlier that evening because she had things she needed to do and hadn’t felt up to cooking. He turned his attention from _Dateline NBC_ to the coffee table, which held a half-empty bottle of red wine and two glasses, a few open books, and Scully hunched over it in front of him with a notebook and pen.

He sighed. “Are you going to work all night, Scully?”

She grinned over the book she was reading. “No, not all night.”

“Can’t that wait?”

“Well, I really need to make some headway with this, Mulder. I have to submit the final draft to the _Forensic Sciences Journal_ in three weeks.”

He groaned in frustration.

She chuckled. “I promise I’ll give you lots of attention later.”

“Hmm,” he replied, his tone denoting a hint of skepticism.

She rolled her eyes and smirked over her notebook.

After 25 minutes had gone by, and _Dateline_ was going off the air, he lost any interest in the TV and found himself gazing down at the back of her head. Her hair was up in some elastic and the milky, soft skin of her neck was exposed. He slid down, and sat on the floor behind her, settling his back against the couch and sliding his legs around her.

“Mulder, what are you doing?” she asked as she drove her pen across the notebook, jotting down notes on mitochondrial DNA.

“I’m tired of sitting on the couch by myself. If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed.”

She snorted.

He stared at the back of her neck. He brought his hand up and began to gently brush her skin with the tips of his fingers.

“Please don’t distract me, Mulder. I really need to concentrate on this.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he replied, without taking away his hand, and continued to slowly brush his fingers up and down the soft skin of her neck.

She sighed after reading the same paragraph three times.

He smirked. He brought his head down and kissed the back of her neck, darting out his tongue against her skin.

She let out a small gasp and closed her eyes, dropping the pen on her notebook and letting her hand fall to her lap.

“I want to find all your spots, Scully,” he whispered.

She sighed again as he returned his lips to the back of her neck, stroking her skin softly with his tongue.

Soon Scully started to squirm, feeling hot desire begin to pool at her center, and Mulder brought his arm around her waist to hold her to him. As his mouth made its way around her neck, she tilted her head to the side, keeping her eyes closed, and moved her right hand behind her to the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair. And when his tongue found that soft area of flesh just behind her earlobe, she gasped. He smiled at having discovered another one of her sensitive spots. His tongue continued its ministrations there until she started breathing heavily, and then his hands left their hold around her abdomen to drop to her black pants, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper, as his own member began to stiffen inside his jeans.

“Touch yourself, Scully,” Mulder whispered in her ear.

Her eyes flew open. “Wha… what?”

“I want you to touch yourself. I want to watch.”

She thought of his porn habit. Of course he likes to watch. She felt insecurity and cringing embarrassment rising up in her gut. “I’d rather you did it, Mulder,” she whispered, after a pause.

He returned his mouth to her neck, while mentally chiding himself. He could feel her tense up as soon as he’d said it. Dammit, why did he do that? He’d obviously made her feel uncomfortable. That was clearly one of the things inside that dirty mind of his he was better off keeping to himself. How much of his mind could he open up to Scully without causing her to recoil from him? It had been so long since he'd had a sexual relationship, he'd forgotten how difficult it could be to open up your world to someone else.

He didn’t want her to think something was wrong, so he snaked his hand down the front of her pants and inside her lavender cotton underwear, his fingers finding her clit and the growing wetness there. He felt his erection become harder. Scully closed her eyes and, to Mulder’s delight, soon started moaning.

His ministrations on her clit and the feel of her ass squirming against his swollen cock started to make his head spin and his groin tighten. She felt the first stirrings toward orgasm, when he pulled his hand away. She whimpered. He grinned into her ear.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, Scully,” he whispered.

They stood up and made their way to her bedroom, his hands never leaving her waist and his mouth never leaving her neck. Once they’d closed the door behind them, she turned to face him and his mouth was on hers, kissing her passionately. Mulder loved kissing Scully, and sometimes felt that was his favorite part. There had been times over the past week when he found himself on the verge of attempting to kiss her hello or goodbye, but she always averted her eyes and turned her head. But there, in her darkened bedroom lit only by the moon and street lights outside the window, she was open to receiving his affection and so he took as much advantage of it as he could.

She lifted his charcoal gray shirt up, and Mulder pulled it over his head. He then pulled her white shirt up and over her head, and it joined his shirt on the bedroom floor. She then began to kiss his chest, running her tongue over his sensitive nipples. He groaned, as his hands went to her hair, pulling it free of the elastic and sinking his hands into it. She ran the tips of her fingers through the soft curls of his chest, down his firm stomach to his waist, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the zipper. She slid her right hand down the front of his jeans, and slipping them inside his navy blue boxer briefs, her hand closing around his hard cock, and stroked him.

“Scully…” he breathed, closing his eyes.

And once again, Scully knew what she wanted. She’d wanted to do it many times over the past week, but Mulder always had some way of preventing her. At first she didn’t think much of it, but the more he stopped her, the more she thought about it, and then the more it bothered her. She’d find herself gazing at him, hunched over his desk at work wearing those adorable, dorky glasses of his, and she’d wonder why he wouldn’t let her do it. But she was determined to not allow him to stop her again.

Her hand left his erection, and she pulled his jeans down to the floor, removing them off his legs along with his socks. She was sitting on her knees in front of him, and she was determined. She then pulled his boxer briefs down to the floor, and he stepped out of them. But as he reached down to lift her off the floor, she put her hands out to block his arms.

Mulder chuckled. “We have to get you undressed, too, you know.”

She looked up at him. “Not yet.”

He then noticed that she was staring at his engorged cock, and licking her lips. He felt his cock throb, but he sighed. “Scully, that’s not what I want.”

She looked up at his face. “Mulder, I’m tired of you saying that. What about what I want?”

He stared at her. He didn’t recall the previous women in his life being particularly enthusiastic about this act, other than Phoebe who tended to turn it into a controlling mind game, like she did everything. But his college girlfriend absolutely refused to do it and Diana felt it was a chore she performed begrudgingly, and only willingly handed out on special occasions, like his birthday or their anniversary. And he thought of those scenes from adult films, of women with dicks all over their faces and begging for come. Real women weren’t like that, at least the ones he’d known, and certainly not a woman as dignified as Scully. He couldn’t let her do it.

Mulder sighed. “Scully, no. What could you possibly get out of it? Let’s just get on the bed.”

She raised her hands to grasp his erection, and started to stroke him. He closed his eyes and started breathing heavily. “But you do it to me,” she said.

He looked at her. “That’s different, Scully.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “How is that different?”

“It just is.” He looked down at her small, warm hands sliding up and down the length of his swollen cock, and he started panting harder.

She realized that he had no valid reasons whatsoever for preventing her from doing this. She let go of his erection, and challenged him. “I thought we were equals, Mulder.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but then quickly closed it. He stared down at her, and saw she was arching an eyebrow at him. She had him. And she knew she had him. What was he going to say? They’re not equals? Because he couldn’t see that going over very well. He would rather get hit by a bus that’s engulfed in flames than ever say such a thing to Scully. They were equals, and he could never deny it.

“Mulder… do you like receiving oral sex?” she asked in a tone which revealed she already knew the answer.

He nodded. “Yes,” he whispered.

“Good. Because I like giving it.”

He stared at her. His heart started pounding furiously.

She looked him in the eyes. “I want to suck your cock. And I want you to come in my mouth.”

Mulder’s eyes bulged. He never imagined that such language was part of Scully’s vocabulary.

She then turned her attention back to his erection. He was so beautiful. He was big and hard and thick and… male. He smelled like salt, and something else, something uniquely Mulder. Her mouth started watering. She then grasped his erection firmly with both hands, and flicked her tongue over the engorged head.

His eyes rolled and he let out a groan, “Fuuuck…” When was the last time a woman put her mouth on him? He couldn’t even remember.

She repeated the flick of her tongue a few more times, before flattening her tongue and swirling it around his sensitive head. Then she took him fully in her mouth, and the guttural moan this elicited from Mulder caused a surge of power to rise up inside Scully. In her mind, he was a powerful man. He could be controlling at times, and a part of her needed it and another part of her hated it. But he’d grasped her hand and courageously brought her with him to the most dangerous situations imaginable, putting her in harms’ way again and again, and yet he was her fiercest protector. Without question, she placed her very life in his capable hands every day, trusting that no real harm could befall her if he was there. To Scully, Mulder had real power, a power that came from somewhere deep within him. And she held his pleasure in the palm of her hand. He was at her mercy. She felt powerful.

From the first flick of Scully’s tongue, Mulder was gone. It was almost like this was the first time he’d ever experienced it. Every movement of her mouth around him was mesmerizing. But then she started to stroke one hand up and down, twisting around his shaft, and sent her other hand lower to cup and squeeze his balls. He started moaning and felt like his knees were going to buckle. He looked down into Scully’s eyes smiling up at him and it was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen in his life. Her soft, pink mouth was hot and wet. Her swollen lips looked incredible around his cock. And as he watched her tongue lick up and down his shaft, he had to fight the urge to grab her head and rock his hips against her. He started digging his hands into his thighs.

She thought that his sounds had taken on a note of frustration. “Mulder, tell me how you like it,” she whispered.

He smiled down at her, running his hands through her hair. She was so beautiful. “You’re doing fine, Scully.”

She gave him a pointed look. “Damn it, Mulder, just tell me.”

“Deeper… harder,” he whispered, closing his eyes. He still couldn’t believe she was doing this.

Scully didn’t hesitate to wrap both hands around his swollen shaft and squeeze tighter, before she returned her mouth to his engorged head and increased her suction. He let out another guttural moan and his hands clutched her hair. She picked up the pace; stroking faster, squeezing tighter, and sucking harder.

He felt his groin tighten and the pressure inside his balls build. “Oh, my God, yes…” he breathed.

She felt another strong sense of power surge through her body. She stared moaning against him.

Mulder looked down to watch her and he felt his groin tighten even more. He’d gazed at Scully’s mouth a lot over the last six years, and fantasized about that mouth, but nothing could’ve prepared him for how carnal she looked at that moment. Just an hour ago this mouth was talking to him about human mitochondrial DNA and age-related point mutation, and now that same mouth was devouring his hard cock. _Oh, God._

He watched her return one of her small, warm hands to cup and squeeze his balls, and he felt jolts of pleasure streak through his groin, down his thighs, and up to his stomach. His hips bucked against her. “Scully…” Mulder panted.

She could hear the desperation. She took him deeper into her mouth, sucked a little harder, and squeezed a little tighter.

He felt the jolts of pleasure turn into waves. Explicit language started to tumble out of his mouth, and she knew he was close.

“FUCK, SCULLY…” Mulder’s knees locked and his hands gripped her hair tighter, as his waves of pleasure became a flood, and his orgasm spilled into her mouth. She continued the suction around him, milking him, as she licked and swallowed his release.

He stood there with his eyes closed, breathing hard and with his hands still in her hair, for some time before he could trust that his legs would be able to hold him up if he moved.

Scully had never felt more turned on in her life: the salty taste of him and the power he gave her, the control. She had also never felt more confident. “Mulder… did you still want to watch me?”

His eyes flew open and he stared down at her. He nodded his head vigorously, eyes wide. His mouth then devoured hers as she stood up. Scully threw her arms around Mulder’s neck, kissing him passionately, and he held her tight to his chest. Then he walked her backwards until the backs of her thighs hit the side of the bed. He turned down the bed and then picked her up, sitting her on the mattress. His hands went to the waistband of her pants, pulling them down and off her legs as she laid down. She removed her bra and tossed it to the floor. He gazed at her perfectly round breasts before hooking his thumbs in the waist of her panties, noticing they were soaked through, and pulling them down her legs.

Mulder climbed up on the bed to sit beside Scully. She was lying on her back, and she gave him a small smile as she saw his head turn to look down at her center. She then bent her knees, and spread her legs. He gazed at her. He watched her right hand slide down her abdomen towards her pelvis, down past the crown of her trimmed auburn curls. She pulled her fingers through her wet slit, and up to circle her engorged clit. He watched her close her eyes, arch her back, and press her head into the mattress. He then watched her begin to rub herself, his photographic memory capturing her movement for future use.

She started breathing heavily and making small guttural moans. And then he watched, wide-eyed, as her fingers left her swollen clit to slip through her soaking wet folds and push into her cunt, before returning back to rub her clit. She performed this pattern more times, each time faster than the last until it became a rapid succession. She shut her eyes tight, and her breathing quickened.

Mulder lay down on his side next to her and brought his hand to her jawline. “Look at me, Scully,” he whispered.

She turned her head to the side as she opened her eyes, and he gazed into them. His hand went to the side of her throat, brushing his fingertips up and down her soft skin. She felt her heart swell as she looked into his eyes. The exquisite tension increased, and finally the throb of her clit burst and waves of pleasure flooded her brain. Scully started to turn her head away from Mulder, but he immediately leaned down to capture her loud moans with his mouth, kissing her passionately, not letting her look away from him.


	32. "A man with faith can indulge in the luxury of skepticism."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully's boundaries, and their effect on Mulder. Someone gets a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Death Cab for Cutie – “I Will Possess Your Heart”
> 
> How I wish you could see the potential  
> The potential of you and me  
> It's like a book elegantly bound but  
> In a language that you can't read, just yet
> 
> You gotta spend some time, love  
> You gotta spend some time with me  
> And I know that you'll find, love  
> I will possess your heart  
> You gotta spend some time, love  
> You gotta spend some time with me  
> And I know that you'll find, love  
> I will possess your heart
> 
> There are days when outside your window  
> I see my reflection as I slowly pass  
> And I long for this mirrored perspective  
> When we'll be lovers, lovers at last
> 
> You gotta spend some time, love  
> You gotta spend some time with me  
> And I know that you'll find, love  
> I will possess your heart  
> You gotta spend some time, love  
> You gotta spend some time with me  
> And I know that you'll find, love  
> I will possess your heart
> 
> You reject my advances and desperate pleas  
> I won't let you let me down so easily, so easily
> 
> You gotta spend some time, love  
> You gotta spend some time with me  
> And I know that you'll find, love  
> I will possess your heart  
> You gotta spend some time, love  
> You gotta spend some time with me  
> And I know that you'll find, love  
> I will possess your heart  
> You gotta spend some time, love  
> You gotta spend some time with me  
> And I know that you'll find, love  
> I will possess your heart

She walked up the stairs of her Stevensville, Maryland home and down to the end of the carpeted hallway. She turned to the left and stared at the white door. This room always used to be open but the door had been closed since that Saturday when friends and relatives had accompanied her back to the house from the church, that day she’d hoped that she would never have to experience. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to go inside this room and do what she needed to do, but she couldn’t go on ignoring it any longer. It had to be done.

She opened the door and was greeted with the familiar white walls, celery green carpeting, the bedspread of purple lilacs with green leaves, and the antique wooden vanity table with matching chair and dresser. She remembered fondly when the former occupant of this bedroom had excitedly chosen the furniture and bedding when she was just 15 years old. Had it really been that long ago? It seemed like yesterday. The room hadn’t actually been occupied since 1977, and was only used when the former occupant had come home for holidays or the occasional weekend visits. But there would be no more visits, no more holidays spent together.

She set the cardboard boxes down on the floor and went to the closet. She removed dresses, skirts, and other nice clothes. She reached for the lilac purple prom dress with ruffles around the scoop neckline and on the sleeves, the fitted waist with a ribbon, and the tulle over-layer with subtle polka dots. Tears filled her eyes. She had been so happy on that night, and so proud of the woman her daughter was turning into: she was beautiful, and smart, incredibly smart, and driven.

She folded the dress gently, and placed it inside a cardboard box. Once the closet was emptied, she moved to the dresser and filled another box with pants, shirts, pajamas, and undergarments. Once the dresser was empty, she moved to the vanity table and cleared off the few bottles of perfume and the jewelry box containing her daughter’s teenage treasures. She picked up the framed photograph, the only picture in the room, taken at her daughter’s university graduation just over 10 years ago. Her daughter had actually earned a PhD. She’d been so very proud of her little girl. That was a happy day.

She looked at the man in the photo. He had his arm over her daughter’s shoulder, and they were smiling. Her daughter had been so gone on that man. He was all she ever talked about. It was too bad things couldn’t have worked out for them. She had always rather liked him. She then placed the photograph inside the box to join the other items from the table.

Once the vanity was cleared, she moved the boxes out to the hallway. She returned to the bedroom and took one more glance around, and then stared at the bed. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to check. She got down on her knees, raised the skirt off the floor, and looked underneath the bed. Well, this was a surprise. She’d never seen this before. She pulled it out from underneath the bed. There was a white letter-sized envelope taped to it, addressed “Mom.” A lump grew in her throat and her tears began to fall as she took her left forefinger to the envelope, and opened it.

*****

Scully lay awake as the morning light brightened her bedroom, watching Mulder sleep. She felt conflicted, as always. She wanted him there with her all the time but she knew that getting too used to having him around, especially in a personal way when work wasn’t involved, would only make her more dependent on him. This, in turn, would only make the heartache and pain that waited for her in the future even more unbearable. She wanted him there but self-preservation was winning out, as usual.

She rolled out of bed, went into the bathroom, and put on her ivory bathrobe. She returned to the bedroom to see him still asleep, lying on his back and with the lower half of his body covered up by the cream-colored sheets.

“Mulder, wake up,” she said, gently shaking his arm.

“Hmm?” he replied, his eyes still closed.

“You need to wake up. It’s time for you to go home.”

He started to blink himself awake. “But it’s Saturday, Scully,” he said, yawning.

“What’s your point? Mulder, you’ve spent the last nine nights in a row here.”

He grinned at her. “Are you counting, Scully?”

She stared at him.

He was still grinning at her. “Why don’t you come back to bed, Scully?”

He started to reach for her, but she stepped backwards. Scully’s fight-or-flight response was kicking in. At night, in the dark was one thing. Sex with Mulder in broad daylight was another thing altogether, and that wasn’t a road she was really prepared to go down.

“Do I have to remind you that you don’t actually live here, Mulder? It’s time for you to go home.”

He sighed, sitting up in the bed. “Why? I wanted to hang out here with you today.”

She have him an exasperated look. “Mulder, I have things I need to do. I need to write that article for the _Forensic Sciences Journal_ and I’ll never finish it if you’re here. I’m assuming you’re planning on spending the night all next week as well?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitating.

“Well, then, I need to get this done,” she replied. “Mulder, don’t you have things you need to do? You must have a mountain of laundry, and it probably wouldn’t hurt to clean that disaster you call an apartment.”

He rolled his eyes and got out of bed as she left the bedroom and headed into the kitchen. As she was setting the tea kettle on the stove to boil, he entered the kitchen, fully dressed.

“Do you want to have breakfast together before I go?” he asked.

“No,” she replied. If she allowed it now, it would eventually become a habit, and then it would turn into yet another aspect of their co-dependency. She thought returning a little more distance between them couldn’t hurt.

Mulder eyed her, sighing. “All right, then.”

He walked over to where she was standing in front of the sink, placing both arms around her and grabbing the counter edge. Scully felt trapped. He looked like he was about to kiss her. They’d never kissed just for the sake of sharing a kiss, despite the fact that she could tell he had wanted to quite often over the past week or so. But kissing had been kept for one purpose, to lead to sex, along with all other displays of affection. She needed to maintain some kind of hold on the situation, she didn’t want to let herself get carried away and start acting like some lovesick teenager. She was fighting to keep herself from getting even more attached to him than she was already.

The kettle started whistling and Scully turned her face from his, who had started to lean down towards her, and pushed into his arm for a second until he let go of the counter. He sighed as he watched her pour the hot water into her mug, and then turned to walk towards the front door. She then followed Mulder, and opened her door for him.

Once he was past the threshold, he turned to look at her with a disappointed expression. “Scully, can’t I stay?”

She stared at him. “No. Good grief, Mulder. It’s Saturday. Go do something, anything. Clean your apartment. Feed your fish. Do some errands. Go for a run. Play basketball. Visit the Lone Gunmen. Whatever it is you normally do with yourself on the weekends. I’m sure you have a life you need to get back to. Okay? I’ll see you on Monday morning.”

He looked at her. He felt he was just on the verge of saying “You’re my life,” but he quickly stopped himself. And then what she said sunk in.

“Monday?!” He felt stunned.

Scully sighed. “Yes, Mulder. I’ll see you Monday morning. At the office.” And then she shut the door in his face.

*****

Mulder grumbled to himself all the way down Scully’s hallway and her building’s elevator. It was dawning on him that she was creating rules. So far she hadn’t allowed hand-holding, kissing (other than at night in her apartment), and other displays of affection, especially in public. She wouldn’t let him take her out to dinner or anything else that could possibly signify “a date.” He supposed there wasn’t anything wrong with that. It’s not like he wanted his friendship with her to become anything like the previous relationships he’d had. He really had no idea how to make a romantic relationship work, anyways. Every woman he’d been seriously involved with left him, so he must’ve been doing something wrong.

But at the same time, Mulder felt something was lacking. He always felt a twinge of disappointment when he couldn’t kiss Scully hello or goodbye, when their hands would brush against each other as they walked down the sidewalk and she would put hers in the pocket of her jacket just at the precise moment Mulder automatically went to hold it, when he’d nonchalantly rub her back or shoulders in their office and she’d walk away from him. Mulder would usually blow it off, reminding himself that he had no idea how to be a romantic partner anyways, she clearly wanted to maintain some sense of boundaries between them, and that this thing between them was pretty good just the way it was.

But deep down in the recesses of his heart, Mulder wanted more than just sex. He wanted Scully to love him, and not just as a dear friend. Maybe if he got her to open up to him more, and not just in the dark of her bedroom, she would. When they lay down together at night, he could see the affection in her eyes. Outside of her bedroom, she shut him out, she hid from him. He wished he knew why. He'd been suppressing those feelings since the morning after she’d flown into his lap on her couch and their partnership crossed into uncharted territory. And instead of sitting down and talking those things out, the subject just joined all the others that they had avoided talking about over the years. He and Scully were pros at not talking.

Truthfully, it had been easy to bury those feelings in the past because he never really knew what it was like to grow up in a household where there was a lot of love and affection. He thought he had loved Phoebe, but the older he got the more he realized his feelings were closer to obsession and that Phoebe had never actually loved him at all. He thought he had loved Diana, but there were many things about that relationship he wasn’t all that happy with and now that he knew the truth about her, he’d rather just forget everything. Mulder had never really known, or understood, what true love was, _real_ love. He'd never experienced it, nor had he seen it exemplified by the adults in his life when he was younger.

But hidden deep down, Mulder craved the security of a loving relationship with someone who really cares about him, someone who would never fuck with his head, someone who would never lie to him. His deep-seated yearnings for family and fatherhood, which he’d repressed for most of his life, were also becoming ever-present in the back of his mind. Now that he was getting a taste of everything Scully could offer him, those long-buried desires were slowly starting to bubble to the surface and were becoming difficult to ignore. This only added to his confusion. He had no idea what he and Scully were, or where this was going, or how long it would last. Was it only for a little while until they get it out of their system? He hoped not. Was it forever? He quickly suppressed that thought.

And as Mulder walked towards the front door of Scully’s building, he was acutely aware that he had really wanted to stay with her all weekend. He wanted to spend time with her and do things that didn’t necessarily involve taking their clothes off. He’d be perfectly content to sit on her couch all day and watch TV with her. Or sit and listen to her talk, about anything. He didn't care. Or take her out somewhere nice, even though she usually shot him down whenever he suggested it. But basketball season was starting up soon. Maybe he could get tickets for them to see some Maryland Terrapins games. Seeing as how sports was involved, she might not think he was crossing the personal boundaries she was creating.

When he got outside to the sidewalk, he realized he didn’t have his car. He gave an exasperated sigh, and then started walking up Scully’s street until he reached P Street NW and hailed a taxi. The cab dropped him off at his favorite local diner, Abigail’s, which was only three blocks from his apartment on Hegal Place. After a breakfast of eggs, corned beef hash, and toast, he walked home.

Mulder didn’t know what to do with himself. His apartment was a pigsty. His clothes had been thrown every which way all over his bedroom. His breakfast dishes were piled up in the sink. He thought about cleaning, like Scully suggested, but then quickly abandoned that idea. He changed into his torn, sleeveless Knicks sweatshirt and a pair of gym shorts, grabbed his basketball, and headed to his local court.

*****

She’d driven her silver 1995 Buick LeSabre for an hour, and found herself once again turning onto the familiar street. It had been almost nine years since she’d been there. She remembered that day vividly. It was Thanksgiving 1990. Instead of her daughter coming to her house, like she usually did for the holidays, she had wanted to prepare Thanksgiving dinner at her apartment. Her boyfriend’s parents also came, something her daughter hadn’t expected. They’d been invited, but had initially declined to give a definitive answer. Her boyfriend had been almost positive they wouldn’t show up. But they showed up after all, and she remembered the atmosphere being very tense and awkward. She felt very sorry for the young man. He’d looked completely miserable the entire day.

As she drove down the street, she found the building where her daughter had used to live but had to drive a little further down to find a parking space. She sat in the car for quite some time, not able to get out. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say. She looked down at it, sitting in the passenger seat. She remembered her daughter’s letter that had been attached to it with her instructions. She hadn’t really understood some of the things the letter said, and her daughter’s reasons for why it had been left under her old bed, and why the letter had asked her to bring it here. There obviously had been things in her daughter’s life that she’d completely kept from her.

After sitting in the car for close to 10 minutes, she opened her door and stepped out. She walked around to the passenger side, and after opening the door, grabbed it off the seat. She then locked the car, and started to walk towards the apartment building. She walked through the front door, and made her way to the elevators.

When the elevator doors opened on the correct floor, she stepped out onto the hardwood flooring and walked to the opposite end of the hallway. She stood in front of the apartment door, and lifted her hand to knock, but she froze. What was she going to say? Should she just leave it, and go? Should she stay and see if it will be opened in front of her? Did she even have the right to ask what was in it? Her daughter’s letter had made her feel like she’d rather not know. But what if she knocked and no one came to the door? She couldn’t leave it in the hallway. Would she get up the nerve to drive out here a second time?

But after taking a deep breath, she knocked.

“Hold on, be right there,” called out a familiar voice from inside the apartment.

Her stomach was full of nerves as the door opened, and she saw him standing there with wet hair, wearing a pair of jeans and holding a towel in his hand, with a look of absolute astonishment on his face.

“Mrs. Fowley?"

She smiled. “Hello, Fox.”


	33. “I'm not the one using innocent people - innocent women - as lab rats."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully spend the weekend apart. Mostly. Scully gets an unexpected phone call.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.
> 
> It might take a few days to write the next chapter, depending on how many times I need to watch an episode before I wrap my brain around the logistics of it. So I made this a lengthier one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sia – “The Co-Dependent”
> 
> Feels like we are married and I haven't run away  
> So many years I've carried you in my arms  
> Yet I stay  
> And still I come a-running when I hear the telephone  
> And I ask for absolutely nothing in return
> 
> I'm gonna watch you drink it all  
> I'm gonna watch you fall  
> You'll find me by your side  
> If you find me at all
> 
> So here it is on offer  
> Everything I have to give  
> My love for you allows me not to judge the way you live  
> So just remember that whenever you may feel alone  
> Yeah, I am here there's nothing to fear  
> I will be your home 
> 
> I'm gonna watch you drink it all  
> I'm gonna watch you fall  
> You'll find me by your side  
> If you find me at all

Diana’s mother was the last person on earth Mulder ever expected to see at his apartment door. It had been ages since he’d seen her, not since they’d all gone out to some fancy restaurant for Diana’s birthday a couple months before she left for Europe. And that was over eight years ago. She’d aged, her hair had gone completely gray, and she had a lot more wrinkles. She had to be in her late 60’s.

“Sorry to bother you on a Saturday afternoon. I’m sure your weekends off are precious.”

Mulder shrugged. “I wasn’t busy. It’s not a problem.”

“Can I come in?” she asked.

Mulder blinked. “Uh, yeah… yeah, come in.”

Mulder showed her into the living room before darting into his messy bedroom to find a clean shirt. He came back out to see her sitting on his couch and the white cardboard storage box she’d been carrying was sitting on his coffee table.

“Can I get you anything? Some coffee? Or tea?”

“No, thank you, Fox.”

Mulder walked over to his desk to turn the chair around, and sat down to face Mrs. Fowley. He had no idea what to say to her. “So… what brings you here?”

“This box,” she replied, nodding her head in its direction. “I’d found it under Diana’s bed at the house, in her old bedroom.”

He’d been in that room before, many times. “What’s in the box?”

Mrs. Fowley sighed. “I don’t know.”

“You didn’t open it?” Mulder was kind of surprised at that.

“No,” she said. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. I’m still not sure. Attached to the lid was a letter from Diana. She’d come to the house about a week before she was… killed. Apparently she’d put the box there then because it hadn’t been there when I did the spring cleaning two months before.”

Mulder nodded. He had no idea where this was heading. “What did the letter say?”

Mr. Fowley hesitated. “That if anything happened to her I was to bring the box to you, but if something had also happened to you, I was then to find someone named Dana Scully at the FBI. She said in the letter you would understand what was in the box. At first I thought the box might’ve contained personal items, but then the letter went on to tell me that there were many things about her life and her work that she had never told me. That she had never wanted to make me feel ashamed, that she’d only ever wanted to make me proud. I don’t want my memories of my daughter to be tarnished, Fox. If Diana’s work made her compromise her… morals, then I think I’d rather not know.”

“I understand,” Mulder replied, as Mrs. Fowley stood up from the couch.

Mulder stood to join her and she walked towards the front door, Mulder following behind.

As they reached the door, Mrs. Fowley looked into Mulder’s messy kitchen. “The place was a lot cleaner last time I was here,” she said, eyeing him.

Mulder chuckled. “Yeah, well, I had Diana cleaning up after me.”

Mrs. Fowley looked at him. “You never got married?”

He shook his head.

“Do you have a girlfriend? Or… someone special?”

Mulder hesitated. Just the thought of labeling Scully with a relationship title as trite as ‘girlfriend’ made him cringe. He didn't really know what he had. “Uh… well… I have, uh, I have my FBI partner.”

Mrs. Fowley gave him a small smile, and then sighed. “Never found time for romance, huh? Diana was the same.”

Mulder didn’t know what to say to this. Mrs. Fowley then opened the apartment door, gave him another small smile, and then left without another word. Mulder walked over to the couch and sat down, pulling the white storage box closer. He lifted the lid to find stacks of black ruled journals. After picking up the first one on the top, he opened it and stared scanning the pages. Oh, God.

Mulder threw the notebook back in the box. He briskly walked into the bedroom to put on his shoes, and then grabbed his cell phone and keys off the dresser. After walking back out to the living room, he grabbed the box and made his way out to his car.

*****

On Sunday morning, Scully got dressed into her sage green skirt and matching jacket, and drove to Alexandria to meet her mother at St. John’s Church. To Scully’s happy surprise, Charlie, Jennifer, and the boys had also come to spend the day.

After Mass, Scully drove to her mother’s house to have lunch with the family. They all sat around the dining room table, talking and laughing. Jennifer was just about six months pregnant now, and was excited over learning she was having a daughter. She was in her own little world of baby names, nursery designs, and baby shower planning.

After lunch, they all got on speaker phone with Bill and Tara. Tara was going to have her twins any day now, and so they’d been giving Mrs. Scully daily phone calls to keep her apprised of what’s going on. They all gathered around the phone and had a group conversation that lasted well over an hour. Scully sat and listened to Jennifer and Tara go into ‘mommy mode’ with their excited baby talk. She wondered if she'd ever have good news to share with them, but quickly pushed that thought away.

Later, Scully and Jennifer cleaned up the kitchen while Mrs. Scully and Charlie were watching _The Rugrats Movie_ with the boys in the living room.

Jennifer eyed Scully, who was washing dishes in the sink. “So… what’s going on with you?"

Scully turned to look at her. “What do you mean?”

Jennifer squinted at her, and twitched her mouth slightly. “There’s something going on with you. What is it?”

Scully felt her face grow hot and turned her attention back to the sink. “Nothing.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Dana, come on. You’ve been smiling to yourself all day. So that obviously means there’s a guy. Are you seeing somebody? Wait… is it that cop? What was his name? … Kresge?”

“No, Jennifer. And Kresge went back to San Diego a while ago.”

She smirked at Scully again. “Then why are you blushing? And smiling?”

Scully sighed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just having a good day, that’s all. Does that have to mean something is going on?”

She felt herself desperately trying to stop blushing, and stop herself from smiling. She even started biting her lip as she washed the dishes. Jennifer didn’t reply, and continued to dry the clean dishes that Scully was handing to her. But then Jennifer turned her head sharply to look at Scully, her eyes going wide.

Scully turned to look at her. “What?”

Jennifer started giggling, “Oh, my God, Dana.” She then pulled Scully away from the sink, and into Mrs. Scully’s pantry, closing the door behind them, still giggling.

“It’s Mulder, isn’t it?”

Scully stared at her in shock. “What? No! Jennifer, come on, don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’ve always been a terrible liar, Dana,” she replied, grinning. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Scully’s face had gone bright red. “Jennifer, you can’t tell anyone! Not even Charlie!”

“I knew it.” Jennifer was giggling again. “Are you having sex with him?”

Scully buried her face in her hands.

“Oh. My. God.”

“Jennifer, I’m serious,” Scully, despite her best efforts, had started giggling too. “You can’t say a word to anyone!”

“I won’t. I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die. How did this happen?”

Scully sighed. “I don’t know. It just happened.”

“Well, it’s about time,” Jennifer replied. “So… how is it?”

Scully looked puzzled. “How is what?”

Jennifer gave her an exasperated look. “The sex, Dana,” she whispered. “The. Sex. It’s good, right? I could tell just by looking at him.”

“Jennifer!” Scully’s face was burning up again.

“What? I’m just saying.”

At this the pantry door flung open and Charlie was standing there. “What are you two doing in here?”

“Nothing,” Scully and Jennifer said in unison.

He stared at them.

“Go away, Charlie,” Jennifer said.

Charlie glanced between them before walking away mumbling something that sounded a lot like “women” under his breath.

Jennifer rolled her eyes before closing the door and turning back to Scully and lowering her voice. “So, is Mulder, like, your boyfriend now?”

Scully shot her a blank stare. “Boyfriend? What am I, in high school?”

“Well, then… what is he?”

Scully thought about this. She really had no idea. What were they now? They were partners, they were friends, but they were more than that. But how much more, that hadn’t really been clearly defined.

“I don’t know. He’s… he’s Mulder,” Scully replied, shrugging.

“Hmm,” Jennifer replied, slightly skeptical.

Scully arched an eyebrow. “Can we please stop talking about this? And can we please get out of the pantry now?”

*****

At just past 5:00 pm on Saturday afternoon, Mulder was pounding on the door to the Lone Gunmen’s office. After hearing several locks releasing, the door opened.

“Mulder!” Frohike greeted him with a surprise. “Nice to see you finally gracing us with your presence. We’ve been wondering what you’ve been up to. Is, uh, Agent Scully with you?”

Mulder sighed. “No, she’s not.”

Frohike gave him a disappointed look before stepping aside to let Mulder through the door.

“What’s in the box?” asked Langly, as Mulder walked further into the office and set it on the table.

“More MUFON data from Diana. That pregnancy trial in Europe with the 30 women, the one that was on the disc, which Diana conducted in late 1997 – early 1998 wasn’t the first one. Others had been done much earlier than that.”

Byers walked over. “Wow, really?”

“Yep,” Mulder nodded. “So put on a pot of coffee, boys, because we’re going to go through it all.” Mulder opened the lid of the box and started taking out the notebooks.

Six hours later, Mulder, Frohike, Langly, and Byers could still be seen hunched over the table, reading Diana’s log books. Not long after starting the process, they realized that the notebooks contained data from separate tests done over the past several years. They then had to spend quite a while organizing the notebooks into chronological order.

The journals containing the notes from the earliest test group were from early 1996. This group included 20 female abductees, MUFON members from European charters, all of whom were either married or single and sexually active. They all agreed to place the chips back in their necks, their cancer soon going into remission, and then all agreed to try to get pregnant. The women were all administered the vaccine to the alien virus, and then their chips were activated after a request form with their ID numbers was sent to a C.G.B.S. – Smoking Man.

The women each kept a diary, also included in the box with Diana’s notes, describing each sexual experience. Within three to four weeks of their cancer remission, the married women were all pregnant. None of the single women were, save one. But during the 7th or 8th week of pregnancy, the pregnant women all miscarried. The study was conducted twice more, and the same result: married women pregnant, single women not (other than one in particular), and then all miscarried.

Mulder gave Byers the job of reading all the women’s journals describing each sexual encounter with their husband or boyfriend. There were moments when the other guys would see Byers’ face burning red, or abruptly getting up from the table to get a glass of water, and they’d all exchange looks and grin.

“You all right, Byers?” Mulder asked after seeing him turn beet red, and leave the table.

“Shut up, Mulder,” he called out from another room.

Frohike, Langly, and Mulder all stifled laughs.

“What happened to the women after the tests failed?” Mulder asked, looking at Frohike and Langly sitting across from him.

“Cancer Man ordered Diana to remove the chips from their necks,” Frohike replied, in a disgusted tone of voice.

Mulder sighed, rubbing his hand over his face.

“Mulder, we’ve gotta get some sleep,” Langly said, yawning. “We’ve been at this for hours. We’ll never understand what’s in these journals if we read while we’re exhausted.”

Mulder nodded. He felt exhausted, too. The Gunmen all headed to their bedrooms, and Mulder crashed on the couch.

*****

Jennifer sighed. “Okay, let me get this straight. You and Mulder are… partners.”

“Yes.”

“And friends.”

“Of course.”

“And he’s been practically living at your apartment now for over a week and you’ve been screwing like bunnies.”

Scully sighed, closing her eyes and covering her face with her hand.

“Are you two going to… move in together? Get married? Not that that would make much of a difference, really. He’s already your work husband.”

Scully’s eyes flew open and she stared at Jennifer, before letting out a nervous laugh. "Jennifer, marriage and family isn't exactly part of Mulder's life plan. His life is the X-Files."

“Dana, are you having sex with him just for the sake of having sex? Sounds like you're just enabling Mulder's immaturity and under-achievement. Plus, isn’t this risky? What about your job?”

Scully sighed. Did she enable Mulder? Of course she did. She was sure their co-dependency required it. “I don’t know, Jennifer. I don’t know what’s going on. It just happened, and it keeps happening. And… I like it.”

Jennifer gave her a sympathetic look. “But are you happy? I don’t want you to be hurt. I know how you really feel about him, no matter how much you try to deny it.”

Scully averted her eyes, and stared at her hands. But after thinking about what she’d said, she had faith and knew without a doubt. Scully then looked her sister-in-law in the face.

“Mulder would never hurt me, Jennifer.”

Jennifer gave Scully a pointed look. “I know that, Dana. I wasn’t referring to Mulder. I was talking about you. You are prone to hurting yourself.”

Scully sighed. She knew Jennifer was right. Every man she’d been seriously involved with, she’d hurt. Every man who’d fallen in love with her, she’d run away from, even men she'd genuinely cared for, like Daniel. Knowing that you’d broken the heart of a good man was painful. Scully knew from experience. What if Mulder suddenly declared himself? Told her he was in love with her? Would that be something she’d want to hear? Or would it terrify her? Would she run away from him like the others? She didn’t want to hurt Mulder. And she knew she could never really leave him, no matter how bad or awkward things might get. A life without Mulder was inconceivable. What would it even look like?

Scully felt like she was fairly content with the way things were going, at least at the moment.

“Jennifer, this is all so brand new. It’s way too soon to start thinking about where it’s going or what’s going to happen months or years from now.”

She sighed. “Okay, Dana. You’re right. I’m glad you’re finally having some fun. And Mulder’s a good guy. I just hope you don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

“Jennifer?”

“Yeah?”

“For the love of God, can we please leave the pantry now?”

*****

By 8:00 am on Sunday, October 17th the Lone Gunmen and Mulder had once again returned to the table covered in journals and notebooks. They then moved on to the next trial conducted with 20 different European women, MUFON members, which began in December 1996. The trial was similar to the last. The women, either married or single and sexually active, agreed to have chips placed back into their necks and to try to get pregnant. To Byers’ relief, there were no diaries describing their sexual experiences with their husbands or whomever they were dating.

“I wonder why that is,” Mulder said.

“Because Diana decided to try in vitro with this group,” Langly replied, pointing to something written in the notebook he was reading.

Mulder’s head whipped up from a journal with Diana’s notes and stared at him. “IVF?”

“Yeah,” Langly replied, and then exchanged quick glances with Byers and Frohike.

Mulder swallowed. “What happened? Did the IVF work?”

Langly shook his head. “Diana was unable to harvest eggs from the women. The women were all given… hormones of some kind.”

“Estrogen and progesterone,” Mulder said.

Langly nodded, after looking down at the notebook. “Yeah. But Diana was unable to retrieve any eggs. Their ovaries didn’t release any. Seems as though the fertility triggered by the chip just didn’t work that way.”

“But that’s the normal way,” said Frohike. “That’s how it works naturally.”

Langly shrugged.

Mulder felt like the answer was there. But he couldn’t make the connections.

They then moved on to the third, and last, trial notes contained within Diana’s box. It was conducted in the spring of 1997 with a larger sample, 40 women (20 married and 20 single). In vitro was abandoned for natural conception by their sexual partners. They all were instructed to keep a personal diary detailing their attempts to get pregnant. All 20 married women became pregnant within a few weeks. None of the single women did. And then all the pregnant women miscarried like clockwork eight weeks later.

Mulder and the Gunmen were talking in circles, and not getting anywhere. None of it was making much sense. Eventually they took a break and ordered a couple pizzas. But after about an hour, they went right back to talking in circles.

“Okay, let’s forget about their chips and ovaries and fertility cycles for a second,” Mulder said. “Why would the married women become pregnant but not the single women?”

The Gunmen stared at him, nonplussed.

“Were they having the same amount of sex?” Mulder asked Byers.

Byers turned a bit red. “Um… I believe so, yes. But I think the married women did have a slight edge.”

Mulder put aside the notebook he’d been reading. “We need to read those personal diaries. The answer’s got to be in there. If conception came about the natural way, then we need to figure out why some of the women became pregnant but the others didn’t.”

After reading and re-reading the journals, Byers seemed to have a look of dawning realization come over his face, and then left the table to sit at the desk on the other side of the room and log onto the computer.

For the next hour, Frohike, Langly, and Mulder took each individual test subject and compared Diana’s calculated conception date to the corresponding personal journal entry. And then compared the journal entries between the married women and the single women.

Mulder sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Okay, once again, what conclusions have we reached about the similarities between all the women at the point of conception?”

“1) the women were having sex with their husbands,” began Langly.

Mulder nodded, writing it down.

“2) the women were extremely sexually aroused, and had more than one orgasm,” Frohike added.

Mulder nodded again. "Okay."

“And 3) the women felt completely exhausted, or depleted afterwards, like they could barely walk to the bathroom,” finished Langly.

Mulder sighed, staring at the notes he'd written. “It’s still not making sense to me. Many of the single women had sex just like that, and they didn’t get pregnant.”

At this point, Byers re-joined them. “The point is that the women who got pregnant were having sex with their husbands.”

Mulder and the other Gunmen stared at him. Byers then handed them the papers he’d printed off the computer.

“I think that neurochemicals released in the brain during sex attributed highly to the conception,” Byers began.

“Like oxytocin?” replied Mulder.

Byers nodded. “But that’s just one of many. There are a host of chemicals released in the brain during sex, and then others released specifically during orgasm. But when you add in love and bonding, a whole array of complex chemicals is added to the mix.”

Mulder could start to see the connections being made. But then he remembered something.

“What about that one single woman from the first trial who got pregnant? She wasn’t married.”

Byers gave him a knowing smile. “No, she wasn’t. Technically, she was a single woman. But she had a live-in boyfriend whom she’d been with for 11 years. So, we can’t say that marriage was a requirement for conception. What we can say is that all the women who became pregnant were in a high-trust relationship where she wasn’t worrying at all about what she looked like, sounded like, or smelled like. If you re-read the personal diary entries of the single women, their sexual experiences were somewhat clouded by their own insecurities, whether it was about the man they were with or about themselves. These feelings could suppress the healthy, positive neurochemicals that are released in the brain during sexual activity. Not to mention that the married women, and this one single woman, were having an intense sexual experience with a man they were deeply in love with. That’s a whole lot of chemicals for the chip to feed off of. These neurochemicals could be what triggered the chip to start ovulation. This would also explain why the IVF didn't work.”

They then all sat in silence, thinking.

“Did all these women die, too? From this last test?” Mulder asked.

Frohike nodded. “All the women from the three trials, even the IVF attempt that never panned out, had their chips taken out after the trial was over. We all know what happened after that.”

Mulder sighed. He once again felt sickened by Diana’s actions, and depressed by the fact that these women and their families would never see any justice. And Mulder felt sick that Scully had to rely on that chip to live. Mulder sighed again. He hadn’t seen her in 36 hours, and he wasn’t going to see her for almost another 12.

“So where do we go from here?” Langly asked.

“Who knows?” Mulder replied. “There isn’t really anything we can do about it. These tests just get added to the long list of immoral experiments they did, using innocent women as lab rats.”

The Gunmen sighed.

“You guys don’t mind if all this stuff stays under lock and key here with you?” Mulder asked. “I’m not sure if my apartment is the best place.”

Byers nodded. “That’s fine, Mulder.”

Mulder stood up and checked his watch; it was 9:07 pm. He thanked the Gunmen for their help, and headed out to his car. He was heading for home at first before he made a sharp turn and headed for Georgetown.

*****

Later on Sunday night, after returning home from her mother’s house, Scully stood in her bathroom, brushing her teeth, wearing a powder blue tank top and matching plaid pajama bottoms. She’d finished her rough draft for the _Forensic Sciences Journal_ on Saturday night, and now she was feeling bored. She was starting to regret telling Mulder to stay away for the whole weekend. She thought about calling him and asking him to come over, but then quickly changed her mind. She could hear Mulder now: 'Is this a booty call, Scully?' She cringed.

Scully went out to sit in her dimly lit living room, bringing her cordless phone with her. She knew she could be expecting a call from Bill at any time about Tara going into labor. As she sat on her couch, she felt lonely. Wasn’t this what she’d been desperate to get out of? The lonely existence? But was this thing with Mulder only increasing their co-dependency? What if she got used to having him around, every day and all day, sleeping next to him every night and waking up next to him every morning, only for it to be taken away from her? She wouldn’t be able to bear it. Scully then started berating herself for the fears and doubts that constantly kept her caged.

There was a knock on the door.

She felt butterflies fill her stomach, and a smile spread across her face. But… she had distinctly told Mulder to keep away. He was blatantly disregarding what she’d told him. She’d wanted space, and some healthy distance. Scully didn’t know what to do. She wanted Mulder, but she also didn’t want to open the door. Scully then sighed, and rolled her eyes. He’d probably just use his key.

Another knock on the door.

As Scully opened the door, she saw Mulder standing there with a very sorrowful expression on his face. She wondered what had happened since she’d last seen him. Mulder saw her standing there in her tank top and shorts, her perfect breasts not inhibited by a bra. He knew he’d made the right decision. He didn’t want to go home to his empty apartment and think about all that horrible shit Diana had done. He wanted to feel Scully’s arms around him and her lips on his.

“Scully, I know you told me to go away, but I can’t wait until tomorrow morning to see you. I need to see you now.”

She sighed and shrugged her shoulders, defeated, giving him a half smile. Oh well.

In a flash, Mulder was across the threshold and, after closing the door behind him, his arms were around Scully, lifting her up. Scully’s arms went around his neck and her legs locked around his waist. He was holding her tight, and pressing his face into her neck.

“What do you want, Mulder?” Scully whispered.

“I wanna make out,” he said, before caressing her neck with his lips and tongue.

Scully snorted. “Make out? How very high school.”

Mulder chuckled. “Well, I didn’t know you in high school, Scully. I need to make up for lost time.”

“Hmm,” Scully murmured, smiling at him.

Mulder carried her over to the couch and laid her down, putting her head on top of the pillows at one end. He kicked off his shoes and lied down next to her. He brought his hand up to her face, brushing his fingers across her cheek and tracing her jawline. Scully’s hands went to his face and around his neck to the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair.

Scully smiled. Mulder silently gazed into her face until he found what he was looking for. And there it was, Scully was open to him. There was no wall, nothing blocking him out. And his lips were on hers, kissing her slowly, softly, passionately. Occasionally they’d break their kissing to breathe, and Mulder would gaze at her, stroking her cheek, her jawline, her chin. Words passed silently between them, there was no talking.

His lips returned to hers, brushing her bottom lip with his tongue, and she opened slightly to allow him entrance. Scully sighed into his mouth as his tongue gently caressed hers. Mulder had never kissed her like this before. It was slow, and he was in no hurry to move on to other things. Scully felt like she could lie like this all night long and be perfectly contented. Soon she lost track of time and space.

After a while, Mulder’s mouth left hers and he bent down to her ear, whispering “I want to make you come, Scully.”

“That never happened in high school,” was her reply.

Mulder chuckled, before sliding down the couch away from her. Scully lifted her legs up, bending her knees, and planted her feet on the couch. Mulder sat in front of her, on his knees. He reached down and pulled Scully’s plaid pajama shorts down her hips and off her legs. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath them.

“Scully…” Mulder breathed.

She looked down at him, her hand at her mouth, and giggled quietly.

Mulder hovered over her until his face was at her chest, and he lied on top of her, pushing her tank top up and over her breasts. His mouth was on her hardening nipple, licking, sucking, and flicking his tongue back and forth, before turning his attention to her other breast and sucking the taut, pink nipple into his mouth.

Scully sighed and started squirming. Mulder looked up and grinned at her. She smiled.

Mulder moved downwards, kissing and licking her abdomen and her soft belly, scooching himself back down the couch as Scully scooched herself upwards to settle her back against the pillows. When Scully spread her legs, Mulder looked up at her. He thought of the times he’d done this to Scully since that first night, this act he was about to do, and each time she kept her face turned away from him and her eyes closed. Now, her face wasn’t turned away from him anymore, but she still lied there with her eyes closed. Mulder wanted Scully to look at him while he did it, watch him with eyes open.

Mulder started to kiss her inner thigh, gently stroking with his darting tongue, down towards her hot, wet center. Scully whimpered when he bypassed it and went to her other thigh, kissing and licking down to her center. Her pretty folds were swollen and soaked with her juices, her clit was red and engorged and begging to be touched. Scully was squirming even more.

“Scully?” Mulder whispered

“Hmm?” she replied, still not opening her eyes.

“Look at me.”

Scully opened her eyes and looked down at Mulder. As she laid her eyes on his face between her legs, her mind filled with wanton lust, overpowering any lingering insecurity over this act that might’ve still remained.

Mulder could see her eyes darkened with her dilated pupils. “Keep your eyes open. Watch me.”

Scully started breathing harder, and she didn’t look away.

As Mulder stroked her wet slit with his tongue, pushing through her folds and up toward her swollen bundle of nerves, he watched Scully’s mouth fall open and her eyes widen as she arched her back. And she moaned. Mulder grinned. He reached down to his jeans, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper, before reaching inside his boxer briefs, and started stroking his throbbing erection.

Mulder then planted his left shoulder against the back of her leg and reached his arm around her, bringing his hand down towards his mouth to spread her folds. He then slowly pushed his tongue into her cunt. Scully’s eyes bulged and she gasped, “Oh, my God…”

Mulder’s mouth then went to Scully’s engorged clit, as her hands went to his hair, his tongue flicking her clit, his teeth grazing over it. Scully felt like her skin was burning as she watched Mulder’s mouth on her. And when Scully started pushing Mulder’s head down against her, as his tongue moved between her cunt and her clit in rapid succession, grinding her hips against him, Mulder started stroking his swollen cock harder and faster, until they were both coming, hips thrusting and moaning loudly.

While they lied there on the couch, their breathing gradually returning to normal, Scully’s phone rang.

“Don’t answer it,” he said, his head lying on her abdomen.

“I have to, Mulder. It might be family.”

The phone kept ringing, and Mulder reached out for the phone lying on the coffee table and hit the speaker phone button.

“Hello?” Scully said.

“Hello. Is this Dr. Scully? Special Agent Scully, with the FBI?”

Mulder and Scully locked eyes. “Yes. Who is this?”

“Uh, hi. This is Sergeant Ferrera with the Costa Mesa Police Department. We have a bit of a situation down here. We have ourselves a victim, one Donald Edward Pankow. Uh, the medical examiner’s office doesn’t know what to make of the body. We called the FBI office in L.A. and their pathologist can’t make heads or tails of it either. He said we should contact Quantico, and so when I called them a little while ago and explained the condition of the victim… well, they told me I should call you.”

Mulder and Scully exchanged puzzled looks.

“Um, what’s the condition of the victim, Sergeant?” Scully asked.

There was a pause. “Uh, well, he has an inch and a half hole in his head, and his brain is gone.”

Mulder and Scully stared at each other. “His… brain is gone?”

“Yes, ma’am. Missing right out of his skull. Would you and your partner like to take this case off our hands? No one down here in the department wants to touch it with a ten foot pole.”

Mulder started waggling his eyebrows at Scully. She grinned.

“Sure. We’ll be there tomorrow.”

Mulder smiled at her, and nodded enthusiastically.

Sergeant Ferrera gave a sigh of relief. “Thank you, ma’am. We appreciate it.”

Mulder reached over and pushed the end button on her cordless phone.

“We finally got a case. When was the last time we went to California, Scully?” Mulder asked, waggling his eyebrows again.

Scully stared at him. “Back in March.”

Mulder thought about that for a second. “Oh, right. Bellflower. Karin Berquist.”

Scully nodded, twitching her mouth slightly. “So… I suppose we’ll just meet at the airport first thing in the morning?”

He grinned at her. “Yes. But only after we sleep first.”

Scully smiled at him. Mulder then got up, and picked her up off the couch. She locked her arms and legs around him, and he carried her to the bedroom.


	34. "The hunger is always there."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully head to Costa Mesa, California to work a case. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The premise and dialog from the episode "Hungry" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by that genius Vince Gilligan, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fireflight – “The Hunger”
> 
> Cut it out, cut it out  
> I know it's what you're wanting to say  
> Burning up, burning up  
> I know why you're feeling this way  
> There's an ache you can't erase  
> A yearning that you can't replace
> 
> And you want him, and you need him  
> But you act like he's not there  
> Yeah, you know that you're hollow  
> And something's missing here  
> So you push and you pull the hole in your soul  
> But you can't make the hunger disappear
> 
> You got a rusted out lock on your door  
> Getting ready to break  
> You've held back love long enough  
> I think it's time to cave  
> You're waiting for a sign  
> The fact is faith is blind
> 
> And you want him, and you need him  
> But you act like he's not there  
> Yeah, you know that you're hollow  
> And something's missing here  
> So you push and you pull the hole in your soul  
> But you can't make the hunger disappear
> 
> Do you want to spend your whole life jaded?  
> Stuck in a rut that you created  
> Why don't you break the cycle?  
> Let love win
> 
> And you want him, and you need him  
> But you act like he's not there  
> Yeah, you know that you're hollow  
> And something's missing here  
> So you push and you pull the hole in your soul  
> But you can't make the hunger disappear

At 8:00 am on Monday morning, October 18th, Mulder and Scully departed Dulles International Airport on a nonstop flight to Los Angeles, arriving at 10:40 am local time. During the flight, thoughts of finally having Scully in a motel bed filled Mulder’s mind, while Scully thought that working far from Washington would prove as a useful way to insert some much-needed distance between them.

Scully had been just on the verge of saying “I love you” far too much the previous night. It had been dancing on the tip of her tongue whenever Mulder gazed into her eyes. She had doubts as to whether this was something Mulder even wanted to hear. Where would such a declaration even lead to? She knew that he wasn’t exactly the “settling down” type. Scully could only envision awkward tension after making such a statement. When she woke up early that morning to find her arms and legs had entwined with Mulder’s at some point in the middle of the night, and wanting to say the words yet again as Mulder opened his eyes and looked at her, she suddenly felt like this thing between them should probably be reined in a bit.

After retrieving a rental car at LAX, Mulder and Scully met up with Sergeant Lucas Ferrera and his partner Sergeant Gustavo Morales, both of whom were in their mid-late 30’s, of the Costa Mesa Police Department at the office of medical examiner Dr. Joseph Abernathy, on Newport Boulevard in Costa Mesa. Following introductions, Dr. Abernathy brought them to the exam room that held the body of Donald Pankow.

“Now, I already performed the autopsy,” Dr. Abernathy began. “The only cause of death I could determine was the removal of the man’s brain. But how exactly that happened, I haven’t got a clue.”

Dr. Abernathy unwrapped the body of a young man in his early 20’s, as Scully put on a pair of latex exam gloves. She walked around the table and stared at the inch and a half wide circular wound in the man’s forehead. She then stood up and locked eyes with Mulder, arching an eyebrow.

Mulder walked over to stand next to Scully and looked at the wound, before turning on the police officers.

“Where was the body found?” Mulder asked.

“In the trunk of his car, which was found in a reservoir about 10 miles away. Someone called it in on Saturday afternoon.”

Mulder nodded, as Dr. Abernathy opened the cranium so Scully could look inside.

“There’s still brain matter in here,” she said to Mulder.

He turned back to look inside the skull. “Hmm.”

“What was the time of death?” Scully asked the medical examiner.

“I put it around midnight on Friday night,” Dr. Abernathy replied.

Mulder walked around the table, thinking. “Was there any evidence recovered from the car?”

Sergeant Morales approached him, holding up a small clear plastic evidence bag with a button inside it. “Only this.”

Mulder took it from the officer’s hand. “Free Fer Fridays?”

“Yeah, it’s from Lucky Boy, a fast food chain out here. The employees wear buttons like that,” Morales said.

Mulder nodded. “Only the employees? Or do they also hand them out to customers for promotion?”

“Nope, only the employees,” Morales replied.

Scully removed her gloves and tossed them into a trash can. “How many Lucky Boys are there in town?”

Mulder turned to look at her, and then back to the police officers.

Sergeant Ferrera pursed his lips. “There are 32 in the county.”

Scully gave him an incredulous look.

Mulder grimaced. “Canvassing, Scully. My fave,” he said to her in his bitter, sarcastic tone.

She sighed.

The officers chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll be helping you out with that,” Ferrera said.

*****

Mulder and Scully, along with Ferrera and Morales, were also joined by Officers Simon Franco and Jim Connelly to canvas the Lucky Boys in the county. They spent the early afternoon in Costa Mesa, checking out both Lucky Boy locations on Harbor Boulevard and also the Baker Street location. All the employees present had their “Free Fer Fridays” buttons. The managers also called in all their remaining employees, and these also showed up with their buttons.

At just past 2:00 pm, they arrived at the Lucky Boy on East 17th Street. They discovered that one of the employees, one Derwood Spinks, didn’t have his button. Mulder and Scully felt this was reason enough to clear out the place. The officers assisted them in getting the employees and customers out of the restaurant.

Once everyone was out of the building, Mulder and Scully started looking around.

“Hey, Scully, check it out. You know how they say you never want to see the kitchen of any of your favorite restaurants?”

“Somehow, I don't think Lucky Boy would make that list,” Scully retorted.

Mulder gave her a brief stare. “My point being that this is a hell of a lot cleaner than all the others. Don't you think?”

Scully looked around her. “I guess. So what are you saying, Mulder? This place has been scrubbed from top to bottom to cover up evidence?”

“Maybe. Maybe I'm thinking this was the crime scene.”

“You're saying Mr. Pankow had his brain very neatly removed from his skull right here in this kitchen?” Scully asked.

“It had to happen somewhere,” Mulder said, looking under the counters.

“But next to the shake machine, Mulder?” Scully replied, with a tone of disbelief. “I think that we should be checking out employee lockers and not entertaining the idea that ad hoc surgery was performed here.”

Mulder stood up straight and turned to look at her. “I wouldn't exactly call it surgery. What if this man's brain was eaten?”

Scully looked at him in shock.

“It… it's not sociologically unheard of. There are certain tribes in New Guinea that consider human brains a delicacy.”

“Yeah, but Mulder, we're in Orange County.”

Mulder gave her blank stare. “Yeah, what's your point?”

Scully gave him a look and fought hard not to roll her eyes at him.

“It's just that nothing about the way the body was dumped suggests a fetishistic killing,” Mulder explained. “The brain wasn't removed intact. What if this man's brain was eaten right out of his skull?”

“Through an inch-and-a-half opening that looks like it was cut with a hole saw?” Scully asked skeptically.

“Well, maybe it was cut. Maybe it was punched. What look like tool marks to you look to me like something more organic. Like it was made by a... a tongue or a… proboscis.”

Scully gave him an amused incredulous look. “The proboscis of what?”

Mulder started smiling and then he knelt down to look under another counter. “I don't know.”

When he looked underneath the counter, he saw a smear of red. “Oh. Hello. Look at this. Does that look like blood to you?”

Scully crouched down beside him and looked at the spot Mulder was holding his flashlight up to. “Yes, it looks like it.”

Mulder then saw a goopy-looking substance near the smear of red. “What is that? Next to it. Is that, uh... oh, my... ugh. Is that brain? Is that brain matter there?”

Scully stared at it. “No, I'd say that's ground beef.”

Mulder turned to look at her. “Ground beef.”

Scully pursed her lips. “Yeah,” she breathed, and then stood back up. “Let’s go ask the manager who was working on Friday night.”

Mulder followed her outside, and then Mr. Rice, the Lucky Boy manager, approached them. “Do we have the all clear?”

“Uh, no, you should probably send your employees home for the day,” Scully replied. “But, um, do you happen to know who was working here on Friday night?”

“Sure, I can get you the time card,” Mr. Rice replied, making for the Lucky Boy front door.

“Uh, Agent Mulder?” Sergeant Ferrera said as he approached them.

Mulder and Scully turned around.

“This Derwood Spinks… he’s got a record,” Ferrera said. “Did five years in Chino for attempted murder. He was released two years ago. We’re gonna take him down to the station for questioning.”

Mulder and Scully exchanged looks, and then nodded at Sergeant Ferrera before he walked away. They then followed Mr. Rice back inside the Lucky Boy and went to his office. Mr. Rice got on his computer and printed off Friday’s time sheet, handing it to Scully. She scanned the names with their punch in/out times.

“Mr. Rice?” Scully asked.

“Yeah?”

“All of your employees punched out by 11:00 pm, except for one,” Scully began. “A… Robert Roberts, who punched out at 12:04 am.”

Mulder turned to look at her, and she handed the time sheet to him.

Mr. Rice nodded. “Yeah, Rob. He was the one you talked to at the register when you first arrived. He stayed late on Friday night. Our freezer had died, and we had 35 pounds of ground chuck that was going bad. So Rob closed late to get rid of it and clean out the freezer.”

Scully nodded.

Mulder looked up from the time sheet. “Where would he have put the bad meat?”

“In the dumpster out back,” Mr. Rice replied, nodding his head in that direction.

“Would the meat still be there? Or would it have gone to the landfill?”

Mr. Rice shook his head. “Nope, the trash isn’t collected until Thursday. So it’s still there.”

“Could we take a look?” Mulder asked.

“Sure, I’ll get you the key,” Mr. Rice replied.

Scully turned to look at Mulder, and arched an eyebrow. She hoped that digging through a dumpster of rotting meat wasn’t going to end up on her agenda for the afternoon. Mulder smirked at her. But Scully’s concerns were unwarranted, as the dumpster ended up being devoid of the 35 pounds of bad meat.

“That’s weird, Scully," Mulder said after they had looked inside the dumpster behind the restaurant.

“Hmm.”

“What do you think happened to it?” Mulder asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I have no idea, Mulder. Maybe it got thrown into a different dumpster.”

He shot his eyebrows up at her. “Or maybe the monster ate it.”

Scully gave Mulder an unbelieving look. “Monster? So now it’s a monster we’re looking for? A monster… with a proboscis.”

He chuckled. Scully grinned at him, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

Mulder turned to walk back inside the Lucky Boy to return the key to Mr. Rice. “I’m gonna go talk to that Rob Roberts kid. There was something strange about him.”

Scully sighed. “And what would you like me to do, Mulder?”

“You should probably go talk to Derwood Spinks. And then I want you to take a closer look at the victim, see if you find anything,” Mulder replied as he started walking away.

She stared after him. “But, Mulder, he was already autopsied!”

Mulder kept walking. “Not by you, he wasn’t.”

Scully sighed again, but then the confident tone to Mulder’s voice caused a smile start to spread across her face as she gazed at his departing back.

*****

At 6:50 pm, Mulder was standing outside the one-way mirror of one of the interview rooms of the Costa Mesa Police Department on Fair Drive. Sergeants Ferrera and Morales were standing with him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to Spinks?” Ferrera asked Mulder.

“He’s our prime suspect as of right now,” added Morales, as they watched Scully get up from the table where she’d been interrogating Derwood Spinks. “I would think you’d have some questions for him.”

He shook his head. “Nah, Agent Scully’s handling it just fine.”

“Just don’t skip town, Mr. Spinks,” they watched Scully say to him.

Scully then left the interview room, and joined Mulder and the officers. “He was working at Lucky Boy on Friday night, and the time sheet says he punched out at 10:53 pm. He claims to have been at home watching TV at midnight, but he lives alone and so no one can confirm he was actually there.”

“Not exactly an airtight alibi,” replied Ferrera.

Scully shook her head. “But there’s no proof he did it either. There’s no evidence that he was anywhere near Pankow. We can’t hold him.”

“No evidence, yet,” Morales responded. “We’ll get him.”

Ferrera and Morales then entered the interview room to begin the release process for Spinks.

“It’s not him, Scully."

“Mulder, of course it’s him. We just have to prove it.”

A couple other officers and some administrative staff then appeared in the hallway, walking past Mulder and Scully. He gazed at her. She looked so beautiful today. He then wrapped his hand around Scully’s upper arm and gently pulled her up around a corner to a quieter area.

“You hungry?” he asked her, leaning down towards her and lowering his voice.

She smiled up at him. “Yeah, I’m starving.”

Mulder grinned down at her. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

After getting into their rental car, they drove to the Newport Rib Company on Harbor Boulevard for some barbecue. Once the hostess sat them at one of the tables and their waiter came over, they each ordered the pulled pork dinner with coleslaw and corn bread. Mulder and Scully took off their suit jackets and hung them on the back of their chairs. A minute later, the waiter returned with their drinks.

“It’s Rob Roberts, Scully,” Mulder said, after taking a sip of his Coke.

She gave Mulder a skeptical look. “Rob Roberts? That awkward, skinny kid who looks like he weighs 120 pounds?”

Mulder nodded. “He did it.”

She sighed and shook her head at him slightly. “And on what do you base that, exactly?”

“Just call it a hunch, Scully.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “And on what is your hunch based, Mulder?”

He smiled at her. “His apartment was immaculately clean, for one.”

Scully stared. “So that makes him a suspect? Because he isn’t a slob like you?”

Mulder smirked. “What 21-year old guy who lives alone keeps his apartment spotless?”

She shrugged. “I’m sure there must be some out there… somewhere. Mulder, a clean apartment isn’t going to get you an arrest warrant.”

He chuckled, but then grew serious. “Roberts is hiding something, Scully. It’s him, I know it is.”

She sighed.

Soon their food arrived, and they ate their dinner for a while in comfortable silence.

“So, when are you gonna take another look at the body?” Mulder asked, breaking off a piece of corn bread.

“Pankow? I made arrangements with Dr. Abernathy to do an examination tomorrow afternoon,” Scully replied. “Oh, um, I think I’m going to drive down to San Diego while we’re out here. The twins should be arriving any day now, and I really should see Bill and Tara since I’m actually here.”

Mulder nodded. As he watched Scully finish eating her meal, his eyes passing over her mouth, her hands, and her breasts protruding from her form-fitting light blue shirt, his mind wandered to later that night when they’d be checking into a motel. He felt the member inside his pants twitch in anticipation.

Scully noticed the way Mulder was looking at her, with dilated pupils, licking his lips. She averted her eyes, fervently hoping she could keep her resolve, and tried to ignore him. She knew she wanted Mulder; wanted him badly, wanted his lips and hands on her, wanted his hard cock inside her, but she was adamant that this boundary she’d decided on was one that had to be firmly established and maintained.

*****

At just past 9:00 pm, Mulder and Scully were standing at the front desk of a Travelodge.

“Two rooms, adjoining,” Mulder said to the clerk. He nodded.

“No,” Scully quickly said. “Not adjoining.”

The front desk clerk stopped typing on his computer keyboard and stared at them.

Mulder looked at her, puzzled. “Scully, we always get adjoining rooms when they’re available.”

Scully gave him a pointed look and spoke firmly, “Not anymore, we don’t.”

Mulder felt an indescribable sinking feeling, and then turned to the clerk. “Two rooms. Uh, not adjoining.”

Not long after this, Mulder watched Scully disappear behind her motel room door that was across from his in the hallway, before entering his own room and closing the door. Mulder and Scully both took showers in their separate motel rooms, and got ready for bed.

After some deliberation, Mulder stuck his motel room key into the pocket of his navy blue pajama bottoms, walked over to Scully’s room, and knocked. Scully, who had been sitting on her motel bed channel surfing and trying to pretend like Mulder’s firm body wasn’t just across the hallway, turned to stare at the door.

Mulder knocked again. “Scully, it’s me.”

She continued to stare at the door for some seconds before moving off the bed, and walking over to it.

“What is it, Mulder?” she spoke through the door.

He stared at Scully’s door, and chuckled. “Are you going to let me in?”

She sighed. “Mulder, we both know what will happen if you come in here.”

He gave the door a puzzled look. “Exactly.”

Scully arched her eyebrows, and felt her resolve stiffen with his presumptuousness. “We’re on an assignment, Mulder.”

He balked at the door. “Are you seriously throwing that bureaucratic nonsense at me?”

“Mulder, we’re on Bureau time.”

“Scully, come on,” Mulder groaned through the door.

She found herself suppressing a desire to laugh, and had to bite her lip. The idea of driving Mulder crazy suddenly became very appealing.

Scully leaned closer to the door, and then spoke resolutely. “Mulder, maybe we should just concentrate on solving this case so we can get back to DC and fuck.”

Mulder stared at the door in shock. He then pursed his lips, and slapped his hand on the door. “I’m gonna get that Roberts kid, Scully!”

“Keep dreaming, Mulder. It’s not him.” Scully then put her hand over her mouth, shaking with silent laughter, after she heard Mulder give off some sort of growl sound and then walk away back to his room.

*****

On Tuesday, Mulder and Scully were going to spend most of the day apart, so Scully ended up getting her own rental car. Mulder was pursuing his investigation into Rob Roberts and Scully was holed up at Dr. Abernathy’s office all afternoon re-examining the victim’s body. She’d discovered an organic and sharp object lodged in Pankow’s skull, and had to use a saw to cut it out of the bone.

Later that night, after having dinner with Sergeants Ferrera and Morales at their favorite local Mexican place, Mulder once again came knocking on Scully’s motel room door.

“Go away, Mulder,” Scully said through the door, stifling a grin.

“Scully, I just want to discuss the case with you.”

She smirked. “We already discussed the case over dinner, Mulder.”

Mulder leaned his head against the door. “Scully…”

“You’re not coming in here, Mulder.” She then started giggling as Mulder grumbled to himself and walked away from her door. But she also started feeling a twinge of regret, remembering how good Mulder had looked in his blue pinstriped dress shirt earlier, and her resolve started to weaken. The thought of going over and knocking on Mulder’s door, surprising him, brought a smile to her face. But then she reasoned that she’d be setting a dangerous precedent, and was once again decidedly against it.

On Wednesday morning, Scully returned to the medical examiner’s office and then drove to the FBI lab in Los Angeles to try and decipher what the object was she’d found in Pankow’s skull.

Just after lunch, Mulder’s cell phone rang. “Mulder.”

“Mulder, it’s me.”

“What did you find, Scully?”

She sighed. “That sharp tip of something embedded deep into the bone of Pankow’s skull? Well…”

Mulder was intrigued. “Well… what is it?”

Scully paused. “I can only describe it as a small shark’s tooth.”

Mulder’s eyes went wide. “I told you it was a monster, Scully.”

She scoffed. “Mulder, come on. This isn’t conclusive evidence of anything.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Scully, can you give me a plausible explanation for how a tiny shark’s tooth buried itself into Pankow’s skull?”

Scully didn’t have a reply to that, and only sighed.

Sergeant Ferrera then approached Mulder. “Hold on, Scully.” Mulder put his hand over the phone as Ferrera stopped in front of him.

“Spinks is missing,” Ferrera said. “We’re starting a search.”

Mulder nodded, and after Ferrera walked away, he returned to his phone. “Derwood Spinks is missing, Scully.”

“Would you like a plausible explanation for that, Mulder? Because I have one.”

Mulder tried not to grin into the phone. “Yeah, me too. Meet me at Rob Roberts’ apartment. It’s on Poplar Lane.”

Scully shook her head and sighed. “Mulder, shouldn’t we be looking into Spinks’ disappearance?”

“That’s what we’re doing, Scully. Just meet me over there.”

*****

Early on Wednesday evening, Scully drove an hour down the coast to San Diego to visit Bill and Tara. Scully had invited Mulder to come with her, but had only been greeted with a sarcastic stare. Scully then thought that going alone was indeed a much better idea. Tara’s belly was enormous and she needed help to get on and off the couch. “I don’t even bother walking upstairs to the bedroom these days,” she’d told Scully as they sat and talked for a couple hours. Matthew eventually climbed up on the couch and sat on Scully’s lap while she visited with Tara, and Scully couldn’t help wondering if she’d ever have her own little boy.

At just past 10:00 pm, Scully arrived back at the motel, showered, and got ready for bed. At 10:50 pm, there was once again a knock on her door. Scully stared at it and shook her head, smirking as she walked towards the door.

“Yes?” she asked through the door.

“Hey, Scully, I’ve, uh, got a proboscis for ya.”

She burst out laughing. “Nice try, Mulder.”

Mulder leaned against her door. “So how was dinner at your brother’s house?”

Scully sighed. “Fine. They’re very excited, and very nervous. Bill was a ball of anxiety.”

Mulder nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed, wondering what it would be like if Scully actually became pregnant. He was sure he’d be a nervous wreck, too.

Scully was suddenly overcome with a strong desire to open the door and make love to him.

“See you in the morning, Scully,” Mulder said through the door before walking back to his room.

Thursday in Costa Mesa proved to be an insane day. Mulder and Sully arrived at Rob Roberts’ apartment that morning to see it had been smashed up with a baseball bat belonging to Derwood Spinks, whom still hadn’t been found. A private investigator who’d been hired to spy on one of Roberts’ neighbors, Sylvia Jassy, had gone missing after last being seen parked outside Roberts’ apartment building. After they talked to Roberts, Mulder was convinced the kid was about to crack.

Half an hour after leaving Roberts’ apartment, the Costa Mesa Police Department got a phone call about the dead body of a woman found in a garbage truck. When Mulder and Scully arrived on the scene, Mulder identified the woman as Sylvia Jassy and they saw her forehead had the same circular wound that Pankow had. The Costa Mesa Police Department was then able to issue an arrest warrant for Rob Roberts.

Mulder and Scully then arrived at Rob Roberts’ apartment, along with Sergeants Ferrera and Morales, to find Rob Roberts in an aggressive stance against his mental health counselor, Dr. Mindy Rinehart. Scully couldn’t believe her eyes. This was not the awkward kid from Lucky Boy. Mulder had been right, Roberts was some kind of genetic mutant. Roberts ignored Mulder’s commands to back down and rushed at him to attack, effectively committing suicide.

More police officers arrived, roping off Roberts’ apartment, and interviewing everyone in the building while Mulder and Scully took Dr. Rinehart outside to question her about Roberts. An ambulance eventually arrived, taking Roberts to the morgue.

“You’ve got to do the autopsy, Scully.”

She shook her head. “They’ll never allow it.”

“Why not?”

She gave him a pointed look. “Because you’re the one who shot and killed him, Mulder. Conflict of interest. I already spoke to Sergeant Ferrera, and they’ve agreed to send the body to Quantico.”

Mulder sighed.

They spent the remainder of Thursday afternoon and evening holed up at the Costa Mesa Police Department filling out paperwork. They then took the 10:55 pm nonstop 4-hours-and-45-minutes flight out of LAX and landed at Dulles International Airport at 6:40 am on Friday. Scully got into her car and started on the 35 minute drive to her apartment in Georgetown, Mulder following behind her.


	35. "All the evidence to the contrary is not entirely dissuasive."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully return home from California, and Mulder has to see an FBI psychologist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depeche Mode – “Somebody”
> 
> I want somebody to share  
> Share the rest of my life  
> Share my innermost thoughts  
> Know my intimate details  
> Someone who'll stand by my side  
> And give me support  
> And in return  
> She'll get my support  
> She will listen to me  
> When I want to speak  
> About the world we live in  
> And life in general  
> Though my views may be wrong  
> They may even be perverted  
> She will hear me out  
> And won't easily be converted  
> To my way of thinking  
> In fact she'll often disagree  
> But at the end of it all  
> She will understand me
> 
> I want somebody who cares  
> For me passionately  
> With every thought and with every breath  
> Someone who'll help me see things  
> In a different light  
> All the things I detest  
> I will almost like  
> I don't want to be tied  
> To anyone with strings  
> I'm carefully trying to steer clear  
> Of those things  
> But when I'm asleep  
> I want somebody  
> Who will put their arms around me  
> And kiss me tenderly
> 
> Though things like this  
> Make me sick  
> In a case like this  
> I'll get away with it

At 7:38 am on Friday, October 22nd, Scully and Mulder walked through the door to her apartment after driving back from Dulles International Airport. Once they set their bags on the floor, Mulder reached his arms around Scully’s waist, pulling her backwards against him. His mouth went to her neck, softly kissing her.

“Scully,” he breathed. “I had every intention of ravishing you the minute we walked through the door…”

“Hmm. But?”

“But I’m exhausted,” Mulder sighed.

Scully chuckled. “I’m really tired, too. We've been awake for over 24 hours.”

Mulder smiled into her ear. “How about we just sleep?”

She wrapped her arms around Mulder’s, squeezing him against her abdomen, and closed her eyes. “That sounds perfect.”

Mulder then took Scully by the hand and led her to her bedroom, where they got undressed and slept for the next five hours. At 12:55 pm a cell phone started ringing.

“Hello?” Scully answered sleepily.

“Agent Scully?” Skinner responded. “Uh, is Agent Mulder there?”

Scully blinked herself awake and started tapping Mulder on the arm, but he only groaned.

“Um, why would Mulder be here, sir?”

At this Mulder’s eyes flew open and he stared at her.

“Because you answered his phone,” Skinner replied.

Scully rolled her eyes and placed her hand over her face, before closing her eyes and shaking her head, and then shoved the phone into Mulder’s hand.

“Yes, sir,” Mulder said into the phone, staring at Scully. “I’m here. Uh, we took the red eye flight from L.A. last night and, uh… we then collapsed on Agent Scully’s couch after getting back from the airport. Uh, the phone woke us up.”

Mulder shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. Scully smirked at him.

“That’s why I’m calling, about that case in California,” said Skinner. “I was informed that you shot and killed the suspect, a Mr. Robert Roberts.”

Mulder sighed. “Yes, sir, I did.”

“You’re going to have to meet with one of the licensed psychologists at the Behavioral Science Unit,” Skinner said.

Mulder groaned into the phone. Scully mouthed “What?” He shook his head at her, closing his eyes.

“I know, Mulder,” Skinner replied to Mulder’s groan of displeasure. “No one likes having to do this. But you know that it’s part of the job, and that it’s necessary. You killed someone. You have to speak with a counselor.”

Mulder sighed. “Okay.”

“I’ve arranged for you to meet with Dr. Susan Clifford this afternoon at Quantico,” Skinner said. “Can you be there at 3:00?”

Mulder looked at his watch; it would take almost an hour to drive to Quantico. “Yeah, I can be there.”

“Good,” Skinner replied. “Also, Roberts’ body will be arriving at Quantico sometime today, just to inform you. And tell Agent Scully that I’d also like to see her this afternoon, so she can give me an overview of what happened out there. I’ll expect a full report from the both of you by Wednesday.”

“Okay, sir,” said Mulder, before Skinner hung up and Mulder tossed the cell phone on the mattress. “I have to go see one of the psychologists at Quantico this afternoon.”

Scully nodded her comprehension. “Oh.”

“And Skinner wants you to come in and apprise him of what happened in California.”

“I better take a shower,” Scully sighed, getting out of bed.

Mulder stared as Scully started to walk around the bed and towards the bathroom, watched her breasts slightly moving underneath the white lace bra, and stared at the white panties covering her cunt. He hadn’t touched her since Sunday. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

“You want some company?” Mulder smirked at her.

Scully glanced over at him as she made her way to the bathroom door, and smiled. “Um… no. I don’t want to take too long. I should see Skinner as soon as possible. Plus, I’m still too tired to make any kind of real effort.”

Mulder chuckled. “Okay.”

After Scully closed the door, she leaned against it and sighed. She wanted sex. She wanted Mulder. And the idea of Mulder, not only naked, but naked and wet, caused sensations of desire begin to tingle at her center. The enforced distance of the past few days out in California had been frustrating. But the thought of taking this thing between them to broad daylight made her feel uneasy, and she wasn’t exactly sure why. It was easy in the dark. She didn’t feel so self-conscious. It was easier to let her guard down. Without the dark, there would be absolutely nothing to obscure what was happening. Scully felt like she’d be exposed, somehow.

After she finished her shower and stepped out, she put on her bathrobe and stood at the sink, brushing her teeth. Mulder walked into the bathroom, still only wearing his black boxer briefs, put the toilet seat up and emptied his bladder.

Scully stared at him. “Couldn’t you have waited until I left the bathroom?”

Mulder turned to look at her, surprised. “What? Does this bother you?”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “You know, Mulder, it’s okay if there’s still some mystery between us.”

He snorted, as he flushed the toilet. “I think I have more than enough mysteries in my life, Scully, without adding our partnership to the mix.”

As he walked out of the bathroom, Scully stared at the upright toilet seat. “At least put the seat back down,” she said, slamming it.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Mulder called out from the bedroom.

She rolled her eyes and then sighed, thinking of the enigma that is their partnership.

*****

After Mulder showered and changed at Scully’s, he grabbed his bag to head for his car, and opened her front door. “So I’ll see you tonight?”

Scully smiled, standing in the kitchen finishing her tea before she left for the office. “Yes, definitely.”

He smiled at the twinkle in her eyes. “Good. I’ll, uh, see you later.”

At that Mulder closed the door behind him, and then made the 45 minute drive to Quantico with thoughts of finally having Scully again later that night filling his mind. After arriving, he made the familiar way to the Behavioral Science Unit and into the office of Dr. Susan Clifford.

“Thanks for driving down here, Agent Mulder,” she said as she shook his hand.

Mulder nodded, and after sitting down in the beige chair in front of her desk, Dr. Clifford had him recount the events that led up to the shooting of Robert Roberts.

“It sounds to me like he committed suicide,” Dr. Clifford commented.

“Yep,” Mulder said.

“Why do you think he did that?” she asked.

Mulder sighed. “He said he was tired of being something he’s not.”

“Hmm,” Dr. Clifford responded. “I guess we all have a similar struggle at times; to conform ourselves to what society or our families and friends think we should be, even if it goes against our nature.”

“I suppose,” Mulder replied.

Dr. Clifford looked down at the file in front of her. “How’re things between you and your partner?”

Mulder stared at her. “Uh, they’re good.”

“You’ve been partnered with Agent Scully for over six years now, so I’m guessing you feel this is a much more successful relationship than your last one?”

He nodded, and looked at his hands. Mulder immediately thought about Diana. He didn’t think anything like this would’ve come up in the session.

Dr. Clifford eyed him. “It’s no secret that your last one had its problems.”

Mulder looked up at her in surprise. How would that even be known by the FBI? Unless Diana had made their personal business known to others, like Cancer Man, which was highly probable. Nope, don’t think about that.

“I believe you and Agent Lamana had butt heads a few times when you were partnered in Violent Crimes,” Dr. Clifford explained.

Mulder sighed. Of course. Jerry. Mulder then wondered why his mind immediately went to Diana when asked about his partnership with Scully instead of Jerry.

“We… had our ups and downs,” Mulder replied.

Dr. Clifford nodded. “I’m sure you and Agent Scully have had your share of ups and downs, too.”

He nodded, fervently hoping she wasn’t going to pry into what those ups and downs may have been.

“Was your partner in the room with you when Mr. Roberts was shot?”

“Yes, she was,” Mulder replied.

“Did you think she was in any danger?” Dr. Clifford asked.

Mulder thought about that. “I guess we’re both always in some kind of danger, just by putting ourselves in these situations.”

Dr. Clifford nodded, giving him a small smile. “But did you think she was in any immediate danger by being in that room with Roberts?”

“No.”

“And why not?” Dr. Clifford asked.

Mulder stared at her. “Because she knows how to defend herself; she was armed. Because she’s been in far more dangerous situations before. Because… because… she was with me.”

“Hmm. So you weren’t worried about her when Roberts attacked?”

Mulder shook his head. “No.”

“Then is it safe to say that you worry about Agent Scully when she’s not with you?” Dr. Clifford asked, eyeing him slightly.

Mulder swallowed. “Not so much now.”

“But you used to?”

He sighed. “There was a time… when our lives were constantly threatened by outside forces because of the nature of our work. It’s not so much the case these days.”

Dr. Clifford nodded, looking down at the file on her desk again. “It says here that Agent Scully was abducted twice; once in 1994, when she was missing for four weeks, and then again in 1998. And that you believe this was due to her involvement in the X-Files, correct?”

Mulder looked down at his entwined hands. “Yes.”

“Yet she continues to be involved. So can I assume that you don’t think this will happen to her again? Or is this just something you are both willing to risk?”

Mulder looked up at her, but didn’t know how quite to reply. “Uh… well, the men responsible for abducting her are all dead now, along with their work. Most of them, anyways." He didn't really want to talk about that. "What does this have to do with Roberts?”

Dr. Clifford gave him a smile. “I’m just trying to ascertain your thought process at the time of the shooting, and that includes any subconscious or conscious fears you have concerning your partner as she was present when you were attacked and had to defend yourself with lethal force. I’m trying to find out if her presence in the situation affected your actions in any way.”

Mulder nodded. “Maybe if Roberts had run at Scully, but he didn’t. He was coming at me.”

“Do you think he would’ve harmed Agent Scully?” Dr. Clifford asked.

Mulder shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe if she’d found herself alone with him, and he was hungry enough to attack her.”

Dr. Clifford gave him a scrunched up, disgusted face.

“But he wouldn’t have harmed her, or tried to, while I was there. The thought didn’t really even cross my mind,” Mulder concluded.

“Okay,” Dr. Clifford replied. “So, how are things at home?”

Mulder knitted his brows. “At home?”

“Yes, in your life outside work,” Dr. Clifford nodded, looking back down at the file on her desk. “I believe the last time you had one of these sessions, several years ago now, you lived alone and you weren’t seeing anyone and you stated that you didn’t have much time for a social life. Are things still the same?”

Once again, Mulder didn’t quite know how to answer. He supposed he socialized with Scully a lot more often now, but did spending time with her outside work constitute as ‘seeing anyone’ since he would see her all the time regardless? It’s not like he could tell the FBI shrink about that, anyways.

“Yep, still the same,” Mulder replied.

Dr. Clifford nodded. “And how do you feel about that?”

“About what?”

“Being alone,” Dr. Clifford replied. “Are you content with your life staying the same? Do you want your life to change? Do you think about marriage and family? Not being alone?”

Mulder wasn’t sure what this had to do with shooting Roberts. He couldn’t imagine himself ever being married, but he quickly pushed away thoughts of being a father. “I, uh, I don’t know.”

“Have you recently experienced anything distressing in your personal life, or any significant change that is affecting your mental or emotional state?”

Mulder sighed. “No, nothing.”

Dr. Clifford nodded. “Okay. Well, I think that about does it. Thanks again for coming down here on short notice. Assistant Director Skinner was insistent that I squeeze you in today.”

Mulder stood up and shook hands with the doctor, then walked out of her office and headed towards the parking lot.

*****

During the drive back to D.C., Mulder was still trying to figure out why he’d thought about his previous relationship with Diana when Dr. Clifford had asked him about his partnership with Scully being more successful than his last. Mulder had never worked with Diana in any official capacity, she was never his work partner. His only partner before Scully had been Jerry Lamana. Scully was nothing like Diana, and his relationship with Scully is nothing like what his had been with Diana.

He and Diana rarely disagreed about anything and rarely argued. When they did fight, it was because he’d picked one, but that also was rare. Their relationship was all flowers and chocolates and jewelry; fancy restaurants and romantic weekend getaways; greeting cards filled with flowery sentimental mush; ‘baby’ and ‘babe’ and ‘honey’ and ‘sweetie’ and ‘sweetheart’; saying “I love you” 10 times a day. Mulder had no real desire to be tied down, and often felt suffocated or trapped, even though at the time he felt that he did really love Diana. He had thought that’s just what you do when you’re in love; he thought that’s what being in love was supposed to look like and feel like.

Mulder realized that he had no real inclination to do most of those things that make up your typical romantic relationship with Scully. Maybe they really were just partners, and friends of course, and the sex was just… well, he still didn’t know what that was, really. But he and Scully didn’t seem to fit as part of the average romantic coupling. He just knew that he liked what was happening and he wanted it to keep happening.

But then Mulder thought about Dr. Clifford asking him if he was happy being alone, if he wanted his life to change. He didn’t have a typical relationship, like the one he’d had with Diana. But he had Scully. She rarely agreed with him about anything, but she listened and understood him. They hadn’t argued lately, but it’d happened enough over the years for him to know occasional arguments would always be a factor of their partnership. Then Mulder thought of the things Scully had said about him at the banquet, and knew that she had done the same for him. She challenged him and pushed him, and he’d grown as a person in leaps and bounds since she’d partnered up with him.

Did he want his life to change? Mulder still had no real desire to be tied down, and the idea of getting married, being a husband, wearing a gold band just didn’t appeal to him at all. But on the other hand, he was bound to Scully, and he believed his bond with her was shackle free. He thought his life really had changed dramatically in just the past few weeks, and that his life was actually pretty good lately.

Was he really alone? He’d always had Scully, at least for the past six years, but only in a minimal capacity. Even with their all-consuming work and partnership, he’d still led a lonely life. And now that life wasn’t so lonely anymore. He no longer slept alone, well, other than when working on a case that took them far from D.C. Mulder was still grumbling to himself over that. But, typically, he got to work with Scully all day, and now he spent the night with her arms and legs wrapped around him, her soft lips caressing his, her tight, wet heat stroking him to ecstasy. But his friendship with Scully didn’t contain all that romantic fluff his previous relationships had with the few women he’d fancied himself in love with. He and Scully were still just as indefinable as ever.


	36. “Maybe everything does happen for a reason, whether we see it or not.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully face more interruptions, including a case in Chicago, which luckily doesn't take too long to close.
> 
> I made you wait longer than usual for an update, and then the last chapter was kind of short, so instead of splitting this one into two different updates, I kept it all in one chapter. So, it's on the long side. This chapter also contains sexually explicit material.
> 
> In case you are wondering why, I placed "The Goldberg Variation" ahead of "Rush" for the simple reason of weather. Mulder and Scully are clearly walking around a sunny, warm Chicago. And in "Rush," which takes place in Virginia, Mulder has his trench coat on pretty much the entire show. So, it obviously had to be colder.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from the episode "The Goldberg Variation" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Jeffrey Bell, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Florence and the Machine – “The Drumming Song”
> 
> There's a drumming noise inside my head  
> That starts when you're around  
> I swear that you could hear it  
> It makes such an almighty sound
> 
> There's a drumming noise inside my head  
> That throws me to the ground  
> I swear that you should hear it  
> It makes such an almighty sound
> 
> Louder than sirens  
> Louder than bells  
> Sweeter than heaven  
> And hotter than hell
> 
> I ran to a tower where the church bells chime  
> I hoped that they would clear my mind  
> They left a ringing in my ear  
> But that drum's still beating loud and clear
> 
> Louder than sirens  
> Louder than bells  
> Sweeter than heaven  
> And hotter than hell
> 
> As I move my feet towards your body  
> I can hear this beat, it fills my head up  
> And gets louder and louder  
> It fills my head up and gets louder and louder
> 
> I run to the river and dive straight in  
> I pray that the water will drown out the din  
> But as the water fills my mouth  
> It couldn't wash the echoes out  
> But as the water fills my mouth  
> It couldn't wash the echoes out  
> I swallow the sound and it swallows me whole  
> Till there's nothing left inside my soul  
> As empty as that beating drum  
> But the sound has just begun
> 
> As I move my feet towards your body  
> I can hear this beat, it fills my head up  
> And gets louder and louder  
> It fills my head up and gets louder and louder
> 
> There's a drumming noise inside my head  
> That starts when you're around  
> I swear that you could hear it  
> It makes such an almighty sound
> 
> Louder than sirens  
> Louder than bells  
> Sweeter than heaven  
> And hotter than hell
> 
> As I move my feet towards your body  
> I can hear this beat, it fills my head up  
> And gets louder and louder  
> It fills my head up and gets louder and louder

As Scully made her way back down to the basement from Skinner’s office, her cell phone started ringing. After unlocking the basement office door she glanced at the clock on the wall, it was 3:52 pm, and then answered her phone.

“Scully.”

“Hi Dana! How’re you?”

Scully smiled. “Hi, Jennifer. How’re you doing?”

“I’m good,” Jennifer replied. “Listen, I’m going to be driving down to Alexandria in a little while to start organizing the baby shower with Mom. She’s been driving me crazy to get it going.”

Scully laughed. “I bet.”

“Do you have plans tonight? I know it’s super short notice, but I’d really like for you to be there to help me. If not for the shower planning, then at least helping me keep some sort of restraint on Mom. I mean, it’s my third kid. And she wants to do this huge thing, and she’s not really listening to my pleas to keep it small and simple. You know how she is.”

“Yeah,” Scully said with a breathy laugh.

“So, can you come down to your mom’s house after work? Please? I need you! You’re the only sister I’ve got who isn’t in San Diego and about to go into labor at any minute.”

Scully chuckled. “Wait, what about Ryan? And your mom? Will they be coming to help out?”

“They all went down to the Outer Banks for the weekend.”

“Why didn’t you and Charlie and the boys go with them?”

Jennifer sighed. “We weren’t invited. They apparently assumed we wouldn’t want to go because of the pregnancy and how Charlie’s got basketball season starting up in a couple weeks. Whatever. You know how they are sometimes.”

“Hmm, yeah,” Scully replied. She knew Jennifer had a strange relationship with her family and ever since they were teenagers, when Jennifer had started dating Charlie when they were 15, Scully noticed they would do this type of thing to her. Jennifer’s parents had always played favorites and their favorite was decidedly, and obviously, her brother Jamie. From the moment she’d met Charlie, Jennifer had pretty much latched onto the Scully family and practically lived at their house throughout high school. After a while Scully had noticed that Charlie was only part of the reason, and staying away from her own home as much as possible was a big part of it.

“So can you come? Please?” Jennifer asked.

“Of course,” Scully said. “I’ll head down when I get out of work.”

“Thanks, sis! See you then.”

After hanging up the phone, Scully realized that driving down to her mother's house was definitely going to interfere with her plans for seeing Mulder later. She sighed. He wouldn’t be happy about it. She wasn’t all that happy about it herself, honestly. Scully then felt slightly amused over the fact that, in the past, she’d gone years without sex and now after going just five days without sex with Mulder, it was driving her crazy.

*****

As Mulder was walking through his apartment door, his cell phone rang. “Mulder.”

“Hi, Mulder, it’s me.”

He smiled, dropping his bag by the door and closing it behind him. “Hey, Scully. How was your meeting with Skinner?”

“It was all right. How was your meeting?”

Mulder hesitated. “Uh, it was, you know, typical for how those things usually go. But it was painless, really.”

“Okay, good,” Scully said, and then paused. “Um, listen, I have to go to my mom’s house after I get out of here and help Jennifer plan her baby shower.”

Mulder felt that indescribable sinking feeling. “How long will that take?”

“I have no idea. I would hope not too long, but you never know.”

He groaned in frustration. Sometimes he felt like he was going crazy with need. Over the past several days he’d thought about relieving himself, but his own hand paled in comparison with Scully. She’s what he wanted and he was willing to hold out for her, knowing it really wasn’t all that long before he’d have her again. But he also knew he couldn’t stand the wait for much longer. He needed to kiss her, he needed to feel her breasts in the palms of his hands, he needed her clit in his mouth, he needed her tight cunt to milk his hard cock.

Scully sighed into the phone. “I know, Mulder. I want to see you, too. Hopefully it won’t take too long.”

“Okay, Scully. Just call me when you’re on your way home.”

Mulder then spent his evening at home. He went for a run, and then stopped by a local deli to get a sandwich for his dinner before heading back home to shower. He then finally had to break down and do some laundry as he’d run out of clean clothes. Upon returning from the Laundromat, he was disappointed there was no message from Scully on his answering machine, and it was after 9:00. Mulder wished he had something to distract him from thinking about her.

At 10:40 pm, Mulder’s phone rang.

“Scully?” he said after grabbing the receiver.

She sighed. “Hi, Mulder. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to call you sooner.”

“That’s okay. Are you home now?” He felt himself getting excited, and stood up from the couch to look for his shoes.

“Um, no,” she replied, sounding a bit out of sorts. “I’m at Dulles. Tara just went into labor two hours ago, and I had to drive my mother here so she could get the next flight out. Unfortunately, there were no more available flights to California until 8:30 in the morning, but I was finally able to put my mom on a flight for JFK. She can then grab the next flight out of there which will have her in San Diego at 10:00 tomorrow morning. It was the best I could do.”

“Wow, sounds like you’ve had a long night,” Mulder said.

“Tell me about it. It’ll be close to 11:30 by the time I get home. Mulder, I know you had your heart set on coming over tonight, but I’m exhausted. Those five hours of sleep this morning are all I’ve had since Wednesday night. I’m just going to crash as soon as my head hits the pillow.”

Mulder sighed. “I understand, Scully.”

“But I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” she asked.

He smiled at this. “Yes. I’m coming over tomorrow and spending the whole weekend. You’re not kicking me out this time.”

Scully snorted. “I guess that’s fair.”

Mulder grinned into the phone, and lowered his voice. “Oh, and Scully? Just so you know we’re staying in bed the entire weekend. We’re not leaving your bedroom until I’ve made you come so many times you can’t see straight.”

Silence. And then he could hear Scully clear her throat into the phone. “Um... okay.”

Mulder chuckled. “Are you blushing, Scully?”

“My face is as red as a tomato, Mulder, thank you.”

He grinned. “I bet I can make something else as red as a tomato.”

“I’m hanging up now, Mulder.” And she did.

Mulder laughed. He knew that dirty talk was something Scully had yet to get used to. Mulder was determined she’d get used to it, and that someday, he’d even hear it from her. Of course, that was more than likely far off into the future. Oh well, he’d enjoy getting there.

At 4:00 am on Saturday, October 23rd, Mulder’s ringing phone woke him out of a sound sleep on his couch.

“Hello?” he answered groggily.

“Agent Mulder?” asked a man’s voice.

Mulder sat up. “Yes. Who’s calling?”

“Hi, this is Special Agent Guy Conley from the Chicago field office. Uh, we met out in Colorado over the summer. Sorry for calling so early.”

Mulder was still blinking himself awake. “Oh, yeah. Right. Uh, that’s okay. What can I do for you?”

“I believe your partner talked to my partner, Agent Block, on the phone not that long ago, asking us to inform you if anything remotely X-Files related came across our desk.”

Mulder was now fully awake. “Yes, I remember. What do you have for me?”

“Well, normally we wouldn’t know of anything that would interest you, since we work the Organized Crime section. But, uh, are you familiar with the Bureau’s investigation into Jimmy Cutrona?”

Mulder nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard some things about it.”

“Last night we had two agents working the stakeout outside Cutrona’s building. They saw a man fall 30 floors to the ground, and into an open shaft. Then they saw that same man climb out of the shaft and run away. The guy should’ve been a smear on the sidewalk, but he wasn’t even hurt.”

“Wow,” said Mulder. His mind started racing through any possible explanation for how a 300-foot fall from the roof of a building wouldn’t kill someone.

“Yeah. We’re thinking that he didn’t just fall. Cutrona leases the top two floors of the building. We’re thinking this man was thrown off the roof. If we can get him to testify against Cutrona for attempted murder, well, that would help us out a whole lot. Would you and your partner mind coming out to Chicago and seeing if you can find this guy?”

“We’ll be there,” Mulder replied, before hanging up. He supposed his weekend holed up in Scully's apartment could wait.

*****

At just past 5:00 am, Mulder called a sleeping Scully from Dulles International Airport to tell her that he was about to board the 6:00 am flight to Chicago, that he’d gotten her a ticket on the 7:20 am flight, and that after she checked in with the FBI field office on W Roosevelt Road she was to meet him on the northeast corner of 7th Street and Hunter Avenue.

Upon landing at the Chicago airport at 8:24 am local time, she hailed a cab to the FBI field office and checked in, leaving her bag there with Mulder’s, and getting another taxi to meet Mulder. It was a beautiful day in Chicago, sunny and a pleasant 68 degrees. Scully had always liked Chicago, but she couldn’t help wishing that her and Mulder were back at her apartment instead. As she stepped out on the sidewalk and walked across a closed metal shaft, there was no sign of him anywhere. She pulled out her cell phone.

“Hello,” answered Mulder, hitting the up button on the platform he was standing on and headed up toward the sidewalk.

“Hey, Mulder, it's me. What now?”

Behind Scully, the sidewalk grate started to open and a platform began to rise out of it.

“Are you in Chicago?” Mulder asked.

“Yes, I'm in Chicago. I'm on the northeast corner of 7th and Hunter just like you asked. Only you're not here. So where are you?”

As the platform rose to the sidewalk and the shaft doors opened, he saw Scully on her phone, with her back to him, dressed all in black. It felt so good to see her.

“Oh, around.”

“Yeah?”

Mulder then hung up his phone and called out to her. “Hey, nice outfit.”

Scully turned to face him and put her phone away. She saw that he was standing there grinning at her, and she smirked. _He thinks he’s so cute._

“Hey,” Scully said. “What's down there?”

“Before you check out down there check out up there,” Mulder said, pointing to the top of the tall building in front of them. “Top two floors are leased to one Jimmy Cutrona whose name you might be familiar with.”

“Organized crime,” Scully replied. “The Bureau's been trying to build a racketeering case against him for the past few years. Gambling, extortion, murder.”

“Which is why last night there were two agents parked across the street in surveillance. They witnessed a man being thrown from Cutrona's roof at 10:40 pm. This man fell for 30 floors, plus the distance down this shaft, because these doors just happened to be open, straight through, nothing but net.”

“Ouch,” Scully said.

“I'm guessing that's what he said. After, he got up, climbed out of here and scampered off into the night.”

Scully then joined Mulder on the platform and he pushed the button to lower them to the basement level.

“Mulder, you keep saying ‘this man.’ Who is this man?” Scully asked as she took out her flashlight and began to look around.

“No idea. He got away. The agents gave chase, but no clear description.”

“Was this basement thoroughly searched?” asked Scully.

“No. Technically, falling 300 feet and surviving isn't a crime.”

“And your theory is?”

“What if this man had some kind of special capability?” Mulder hypothesized. “Some kind of genetic predisposition towards rapid healing, or tissue regeneration?”

“So, basically, what if we were looking for Wile E. Coyote?” Scully asked. “You're saying that he is invulnerable, right?”

Mulder started to say "Yeah," but stopped himself, realizing how that sounded.

“You know in 1998, there was a British soldier who plummeted 4,500 feet when his parachute failed and he walked away with a broken rib.”

Mulder gave her a blank stare. “What's your point?”

“My point is that if there's a wind gust or a sudden updraft and, plus, if he landed in exactly the right way, I mean… I don't know. Maybe he just got lucky.”

“What if he got really, really lucky? That's your big scientific explanation, Scully?” Mulder asked with affectionate sarcasm, and then laughed as Scully flashed her light in his face.

“I mean, how many thousands of variables would have to convene in just the right mixture for that theory to hold water?” Mulder asked.

“I don't know,” Scully replied.

"Well, thousands," said Mulder.

Scully looked closely at a Grayson’s Linen Service laundry cart in the basement. The wheel castors have been broken and folded out as if a huge weight landed in the cart. “Mulder?”

“Yeah?”

“Look at this. If this cart were on the platform when he hit, that would explain the condition of these wheels. And what if this whole thing had just enough give to save his life?”

“We'd have to find him to ask,” Mulder replied.

“Yeah, we have to find him.”

As Mulder sifted through the towels in the cart a small round object flipped out onto the floor. After bending down to look at it, he picked it up to find it was a prosthetic eye.

“Looks like maybe we've found part of him already,” Mulder quipped.

An hour later, after Mulder called the Cook County Hospital’s prosthetic department to find out if anyone applied for a new prosthetic eye, they found themselves outside a low rent apartment building in Melrose Park. Mulder pressed the buzzer for apartment 313.

“I think you're taking a flier here, Mulder. There's got to be at least 600 people with prosthetic eyes in the greater Chicago area.”

“Yeah, but only this one Henry Weems made an appointment this morning to get a new one.”

Mulder pressed the buzzer again.

“Maybe he can't see his way to the door.”

Mulder turned a big surprised smile at Scully’s joke. When was the last time she told a joke? This was definitely not the Scully of several months ago. At that moment an elderly lady with a rolling shopping cart came out of the building, and Mulder caught the door before it closed behind her.

“Come on, Scully. I'm feeling lucky.”

They grinned at each other as they stepped inside and walked down the hallway toward the elevator.

*****

Later on, after Mulder unsuccessfully attempted to help a lady with her leaky faucet, ending up drenched as Scully fought hard to stop herself from laughing at him, and then falling through the floor to the empty apartment below, they found Henry Weems. He had no explanation for his survival of the fall from the roof other than landing in the laundry cart and they were unable to convince him to testify against Cutrona.

Mulder and Scully stood at the elevator, and she pushed the down button.

Scully turned to face Mulder and looked up at him. “So, here's the plan, as I see it: we inform the Chicago field office about Weems, leaving it to them to secure his testimony, you change your clothes…”

Mulder raised his eyebrows at her, and Scully smiled.

“We fly back to D.C. by sunset and all is right with the world,” Scully concluded, adding a bit of a purr to her voice. She just wanted them to get back to her apartment. The waiting was killing her.

“Come on, Scully, you're going to dump this case just as it's getting interesting.”

“’Interesting,’ Mulder, was when we were looking for Wile E. Coyote,” Scully said as she pushed the button again. “Come on, Mulder, this guy just got lucky. There's no X-File here.”

“Maybe his luck is the X-File,” Mulder replied.

Scully decided they have waited long enough for the elevator. “Stairs.”

Upon leaving the apartment building, Mulder realized he’d lost his car keys and so they ended up having to press Weems’ buzzer to be let back in. They heard a gunshot and had to break in through the building’s front door. Upon arriving at Weems’ apartment, he was nowhere to be seen but there was a dead man hanging from the ceiling fan. Mulder called the local police.

After a rather amusing re-telling by Mulder of what he supposed happened in Weems apartment that led to one of Cutrona’s enforcers hanging by his shoelace from the ceiling, Scully had a nice chat with one of Weems’ neighbors, a sickly boy named Richie.

“So I'm guessing you're a sports fan,” Scully said as he sat on his bed and looked around his room. “Which one's your favorite?

“Well, it used to be basketball,” Richie replied. “But now the Bulls suck, so I think maybe baseball.”

“I like baseball, too,” Scully said, affectionately remembering Mulder teaching her how to hit a baseball and that afternoon they spent at Yankee stadium. She then noticed another intricate contraption in the room. “Did Henry make this for you?”

Scully started the toy, and after a complicated series of events around the board, a small basketball was thrown into a hoop. She chuckled. “That's pretty neat.”

But Richie didn’t know where Weems might be, and soon Scully left to rejoin Mulder. Later on, after Weems bought a lottery ticket that led to a man getting hit by a truck, Mulder and Scully still were unable to track Weems down. Eventually they were able to find him, but another one of Cutrona’s enforcers ended up dead and both Mulder and Weems ended up in the hospital to get treated for wounds caused by a grazed bullet. However, Scully was still unable to convince him to enter into protective custody and testify against Cutrona, getting a little frustrated with Mulder in the process for relying on Weems’ supposed good luck to keep him safe from hardened criminals.

After Weems got hit by a truck, Mulder believed Scully’s comment about lucky streaks coming to an end and Weems agreed to testify against Cutrona. Richie ended up being rushed to the hospital, and they took Weems to his hospital room. But soon it became apparent that Richie’s mother, Maggie, was missing. Mulder and Scully went back to Melrose Park to look for her, but there was no sign of her anywhere. Weems was determined that Cutrona was the one who had taken her, and left the hospital.

Scully remained at the hospital with Richie while Mulder went in search of Richie’s mother. In an amazing string of events, Weems was able to find Maggie and Cutrona was killed, Mulder actually found them back at Grayson’s Linen Service, and Cutrona ended up being a perfect match for the liver transplant Richie gravely needed.

*****

After checking back in with the field office, relieving themselves of any further involvement with Weems or the Cutrona investigation, Mulder got on the phone with headquarters about getting a flight back to D.C. He sighed after hanging up, glancing at his watch; it was 10:24 pm.

“There are no more flights to D.C. tonight,” Mulder said, sighing again. "So I guess we'll be staying."

“Hmm,” Scully replied.

After Mulder told her the available flight times for the following day, Scully chose the 1:10 pm flight that would get back to D.C. at just after 4:00 in the afternoon. Mulder felt disappointed that she hadn’t chosen the first flight out the following morning. He’d wanted to get back to D.C. as soon as possible. He wanted Scully so badly it felt like his skin was crawling.

As they got into a taxi, Scully spoke to the driver. “Majestic Hotel on W Brompton Ave, please.”

Mulder turned to look at her. “That doesn’t sound like it’s within the FBI’s accommodations budget, Scully. Plus, I already checked us into a motel earlier.”

“Mulder, I’m tired of you choosing crappy motels for us to stay in. I want to choose, and the Majestic is one of my favorite places.”

He sighed. “We’re gonna get raked over the coals. They’re just going to deny the hotel charge and make us pay for it. Then they're gonna ask why we have two different hotel charges on our Bureau account.”

Scully suppressed a smirk. “Well, if that happens we’ll just have to deal with it.”

Mulder didn’t say anything, and just sighed. He didn’t want to argue.

When they arrived at the boutique hotel 20 minutes later, Mulder paid the cab driver and they walked inside. As they stood at the reception desk, Mulder started to pull out his wallet to take out their Bureau-issued credit card when Scully placed her gold card on the counter. He stared at it.

“How can I help you?” asked the front desk clerk, an average-height blonde in her mid to late 20’s.

“Do you have a king suite available?” she asked the front desk clerk.

Mulder turned his head sharply to look at her. He thought they’d be getting separate rooms. “Scully, aren’t we working an assignment?”

“No, Mulder, the case is closed as far we’re concerned,” she replied, eyeing him pointedly. “We’re no longer on Bureau time.”

He slowly put his wallet back into his pocket, dawning realization coming over him. He smiled down at her as she spoke with the front desk clerk. Scully received their room keys, and they headed for the elevator in silence. Once inside the empty compartment, Scully pressed the ‘4’ button to take them to the top floor.

They turned and gazed at one another. Scully licked her lips, and then dropping their bags to the floor, they lunged for one another. Mulder dropped his head to capture Scully’s mouth, and took her bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it to probe the inside of her mouth with his tongue. Scully had thrown her arms around Mulder’s neck, and now pressed her body even tighter to him and moaned as he pushed her back against the wall of the elevator. Hot desire was pooling at her center and the maddening throb of her clit was making her squirm against him. She could feel his erection start to prod her stomach as the elevator ‘dinged’ and the doors opened on the fourth floor.

Breathing heavily, they turned and walked down a hallway to their room. As Scully was trying to open the door, he was standing behind her, with his mouth at her neck and his erection prodding her insistently. Mulder thought that if he got any harder he’d be able to cut through cement. Scully managed to get the door open, and they slammed it shut behind them, locking it, and once again dropped their bags to the floor as Mulder flipped one of the light switches, turning on the light over the wall mirror behind them.

Mulder pushed Scully back against the wall and passionately devoured her mouth as their hands began frantically removing articles of clothing. Mulder’s brown suit jacket and blue shirt were thrown to the floor along with his white undershirt and Scully’s black jacket and shirt. Scully’s hand softly caressed the bandage wrapped around his left bicep from where the bullet had grazed him.

“Does it hurt?” Scully breathed.

“Not right now,” he groaned, before recapturing her mouth with his.

Mulder unzipped Scully’s black dress pants as they kicked off their shoes, sliding his hand inside her panties to her center.

“Fuck,” Mulder gasped against Scully’s mouth as he ran his fingers through her soaking wet folds, bringing her juices forward to circle her engorged clit.

Scully whimpered, and her hands flew to Mulder’s pants, unzipping them and shoving her hand down the front of his boxer briefs, closing her warm hand around his hard cock, squeezing tight and stroking him.

They stood there for some seconds, stroking each other and panting, before Mulder withdrew his hand, causing Scully to whimper again, and pulled her pants along with her underwear down to the floor and she stepped out of them. His hands then went behind her back to her bra, releasing it and tossing it to the floor. He palmed her breasts as his mouth returned to hers, kissing her passionately, his tongue searching for hers.

Mulder then picked her up, his hands going under her ass as her arms and legs locked around him, and he settled her back against the wall. He held her with one arm while his other hand pushed his suit pants down until gravity dropped them to the floor. He then pulled his swollen, throbbing cock out of his boxer briefs.

He dropped his head to take the hardened pink nub of one of her breasts into his mouth. The sensation of Mulder’s mouth on her breast hit Scully like an explosion, and she felt she was so close to coming already. Mulder greedily suckled her breasts, taking turns to ring her aureoles with his tongue and then pull her nipples deep into his mouth. With his mouth still at one breast, he looked up at Scully’s face and then bit down hard. He watched her mouth fall open and her eyes squeeze shut, and she bucked against him as he softly laved where he had bitten.

“Mulder,” she whimpered. She could feel her wetness dripping from her, drenching her groin and inner thighs, as the aching throb of her clit drove her mad. She continued to rock against him, frantic for some relief.

He grinned at her, and holding his erection steady at the perfect angle, he loosened his grip on her slightly. Scully shifted her hips to try out her balance against the wall, and her calves curled tighter around Mulder, pressing him against her and causing him to groan.

Scully arched her back and lowered herself slightly until she felt the engorged head of his erection press against her soaking wet folds and prod her entrance. “Fuck me, Mulder,” Scully panted.

In one swift motion, Mulder’s hand left the base of his erection, and both hands went to firmly grasp her hips as he thrust upward, impaling Scully’s dripping wet cunt on his hard cock and causing them both to cry out. Mulder thrust frantically, slamming her hips against him as Scully let out continual whimpers and moans.

Then Mulder watched with wide eyes as Scully brought her right arm down between them, settling her hand against her center and placing her fingers on each side of his cock as he slid in and out of her, slightly squeezing him. A low, guttural moan escaped Mulder’s throat. His grip on her loosened and she slid down the wall a little, changing their angle. Scully’s eyes went wide and she started clenching around him, throwing both elbows around his neck to lock herself tighter, slamming her hips against him and moaning loudly. Mulder loved to make Scully come with his mouth, but feeling her come on his cock always filled him with a deep sense of self-satisfaction.

Mulder wanted to keep Scully coming, and he moved them away from the wall, pulling out of her. Mulder stepped out of his suit pants that had pooled at his ankles, and started carrying her. He was aiming for the bedroom but they got as far as the darkened living room before Mulder’s knees somewhat buckled and he lowered Scully to the floor. She giggled as she pulled him down to the floor with her and then forced him onto his back, pulling his boxer briefs off his legs and straddling him.

Scully closed her eyes and started to slide her wet slit back and forth against Mulder’s engorged cock. He gazed at her intensely, his hands gently placed on her hips, as she rocked herself against him, rubbing her cunt over the length of him in slow, hot strokes. He started panting has he felt the hard nub of her clit grind up and down his cock. Mulder thought he was going to lose his mind.

As Scully reached down to guide his cock inside her, Mulder grabbed her waist and pulled her forward, sliding her up his abdomen and toward his chest. He caught her confused expression and then a look of realization as he continued to pull her forward and lift her slightly to his face.

“Mulder, wait, I haven’t showered since early this morning,” she said quickly, breathing heavily. Scully had felt a momentary sensation of panic and embarrassment.

He made no reply as his hands brought her down toward his mouth. Mulder was desperate to taste her, lapping at her juices, pulling her hips down against him.

“Oohh, fuuuck,” Scully moaned, as her hands reached out to grab the arm of the sofa to keep her balance. The panic was gone, as was all rational thought.

Scully’s moan went straight to Mulder’s swollen cock, and it throbbed painfully with need. He could never get enough of Scully’s taste, and the slick feel of her against his mouth. Mulder circled her entrance with his tongue and then plunged as deep inside her cunt as he could go. His hands left her hips and went to her breasts, squeezing them and rolling her taut nipples between his fingers. Mulder started moaning as he fucked her with his tongue, his sounds flooding Scully’s brain with pleasure, and she was coming again, pressing her hips hard against his face and gasping.

Mulder felt like he was about to explode, and without giving Scully any time to come down from her high or for her nerves to recover, he pushed her back down to his pelvis and slammed into her. Scully cried out, her hands falling to his chest in an effort to hold herself up as her body shook above him. Mulder planted his feet on the floor, and grabbing onto her hips tightly, he thrust into her cunt hard and fast.

“I want you to come again, Scully,” Mulder panted.

“I don’t think I can, Mulder.” Scully felt like her nerve endings were in overload with waves of mingled pain and pleasure. She didn’t know how much more she could take.

As Mulder felt waves of pleasure streak from his balls across his groin and out towards his stomach and thighs, explicit language poured out from his mouth and he reached his right hand between their joined center, finding Scully’s clit, and pinched hard.

“Jesus Christ!” Scully cried out, grinding her hips harder against him and knitting her brows as another orgasm overtook her. The clenching muscles of her tight cunt caused Mulder to finally explode, his loud moans filling her ears and his hot seed filling her womb.

She collapsed on top of his chest, utterly depleted. She had no idea how she was going to get up off the floor. They lay there breathing heavy, not moving a muscle. After a while, he sat up, holding her in his lap. He smiled at her, his eyes searching her face. He began to kiss her cheeks, her eyelids, her forehead, her nose, before caressing her lips in slow, soft, passionate kisses. She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and he held her close.

“Scully?” Mulder whispered.

“Hmm?”

He smiled. “I think the Majestic is one of my favorite places, too.”


	37. "I don't know if I wanna do this alone. I don't even know if I can."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback. Mulder and Scully wake up in their Chicago hotel.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 30 Seconds to Mars - "Stay" (Rihanna)
> 
> All along it was a fever  
> A cold sweat, hot-headed believer  
> I threw my hands in the air, said, "Show me something"  
> She said, "If you dare, come a little closer"
> 
> Round and around and around and around we go  
> Oh now, tell me now, tell me now, tell me now you know
> 
> Not really sure how to feel about it  
> Something in the way you move  
> Makes me feel like I can't live without you  
> It takes me all the way  
> I want you to stay
> 
> It's not much of a life you're living  
> Not just something you take, it's given
> 
> Round and around and around and around we go  
> Oh now, tell me now, tell me now, tell me now you know
> 
> Not really sure how to feel about it  
> Something in the way you move  
> Makes me feel like I can't live without you  
> It takes me all the way  
> I want you to stay
> 
> Ooh, ooh, ooh, the reason I hold on  
> Ooh, ooh, ooh, 'cause I need this hole gone  
> Funny you're the broken one but I'm the only one who needed saving  
> 'Cause when you never see the light it's hard to know which one of us is caving
> 
> Not really sure how to feel about it  
> Something in the way you move  
> Makes me feel like I can't live without you  
> It takes me all the way  
> I want you to stay, stay  
> I want you to stay

April 17, 1999

Scully is lying on his couch, facing the back of it. She’s wearing one of his old Knicks t-shirts and a pair of his basketball shorts that end past her knees and are so large around her she had to fold and tuck the waist to keep them from falling off her, and she’s partially covered with a blanket. She isn’t sleeping, but she’s quiet. Three hours ago he’d found her on his apartment floor, unconscious and covered in blood; her blood.

The police had been called, Padgett’s body removed from the basement, and after asking Scully 500 questions, Mulder could see her eyes start to glaze over and he ushered the police out of his apartment. Mulder had told Scully that he wanted her to stay at his place that night. Any idea of letting her out of his sight was out of the question and she seemed too exhausted to go all the way home.

To Mulder’s surprise, she didn’t protest. She merely brought her legs up onto the couch and lay down, turning her back to him without a word. She actually hadn’t spoken a word to him since he’d found her, and held her as she sobbed. He’d listened as she told the police what happened, how Naciamento was tearing through her chest with his bare hand, how she’d pulled out her gun and shot him several times, but without effect, and then she passed out to awaken to Mulder’s face. The police removed several bullets from Mulder’s wall and ceiling, and they also took her clothes as evidence.

Mulder desperately wanted to know what she was thinking about. Something was going on inside her head, something she wasn’t sharing with him. This seemed to be part of something bigger that was also going on between them: a chasm of silence that had grown larger and larger ever since they’d returned from Antarctica. Then Mulder momentarily betrayed himself and his cause, betrayed Scully, by siding with the Smoking Man and agreeing to go with Diana to that air force base. The look on Scully’s face when he’d confessed this, he’ll never forget it as long as he lives. Their bond seemed to be weakening somehow and the larger the chasm of silence grew, the more distant they became and the more they argued. Mulder didn’t know how to fix it.

As Mulder stared at her back in silence, his guts still churned in terror. The sight of Scully on his floor had paralyzed him. He then thought of Padgett. If he hadn’t torn his own heart out, if Scully had actually died, Mulder would’ve ripped it out for him. His thoughts then turned to bursting in on Scully sitting on Padgett’s bed in the dark. That sight had also paralyzed him, but in a completely different way.

He’d felt hot anger surge from the pit of his stomach and momentarily had the desire to grab Scully forcibly from the apartment, to scream at her. At the time, his anger appeared to stem from the fact that Padgett was the murderous psychopath they’d been looking for. But now Mulder was starting to realize that his anger had stemmed from the fact that he’d felt betrayed somehow, but he didn’t really understand that feeling.

Why did this happen again? Mulder had felt like this was Jerse all over, even though Scully really hadn’t invited Padgett into her life. Scully certainly hadn’t spent the night with Padgett. But when Mulder had asked her if what Padgett had wrote about her was true, Scully averted her eyes and wouldn't look him in the face. Mulder stared at Scully’s back, as she lay on the couch, and he now noticed that she’d drifted off to sleep. _Finally._

And now Mulder’s thoughts turned to Padgett’s book, particularly the chapter that carried on with him and Scully in his bedroom had Mulder never interrupted them. Mulder’s photographic memory recalled the words on the page, as the images of the scene Padgett described swam in front of his eyes.

“She felt wild, feral, guilty as a criminal. What would her partner think of her?”

Mulder knew what he thought. He felt embarrassed for Scully, and he loathed Padgett for taking something so intimate about her, something Mulder himself could never even hope to know, and turning it into pornographic trash. But at the same time, Mulder couldn’t help inserting himself into the scene, replacing Padgett, and suddenly it didn’t seem so trashy. Mulder envisioned himself lying on that bed with Scully, her flaming hair spread out on the pillow, her soft lips against his, his hands unclasping her black bra before taking a hardened pink nipple into his mouth. But then Mulder assiduously suppressed those thoughts, burying them somewhere deep along with all the other similar thoughts he’d kept buried for the last few years.

He then supposed that Padgett had loved Scully, at least in some way, and was willing to trade his own life for hers. Of course, a lot of innocent young lives had been heinously cut short just so he could get closer to Scully. The guy was a raving lunatic who manipulated Scully into taking his side, believing him to be innocent.

And then Mulder felt a twinge of guilt, for he knew that in some ways he also manipulates Scully. He smiles, touches, flirts; he appeals to her intelligence and her pride and her sense of duty to the X-Files. And he does it all to keep her with him. He was even forced to make a declaration in his hallway and came so close to kissing her, all so that she would stay with him. If Scully hadn’t been walking out his door, seemingly for good, Mulder knew he never would’ve had the courage to admit those things to her, and especially to kiss her. Without the X-Files, there’s no reason for Scully to be with him. Without the X-Files, she’d just move on with her life. And so Mulder poured his heart, mind, and soul into the X-Files, making it his priority in hopes that Scully’s loyalty and sense of obligation would move her to make them her priority too. So that she would always stay with him, and never leave.

For Mulder knew he was a selfish bastard, his needs always going before Scully’s. Her wishes were secondary. She’d apparently wanted to get on with her life, but he couldn’t let her go. He was willing to say anything, do anything, including opening up his heart and telling her how important she is to him, just to keep her from walking away. For if she wasn’t walking away from him, he knew he’d never admit those things. He’d never open up and tell her how he really feels about her, even if that was something she needed to hear, that which Mulder highly doubted. _What would Scully ever see in me, anyways?_

For that is his strongest fear, even more terrifying than losing her by force: that she will leave him by choice; that she will finally realize he isn’t worth her time, her talents, her life. Padgett had this same fear, and he felt the solution was to kill her. And Mulder then realized that Padgett’s murderous attack on Scully and his own melodramatic death had only happened once Padgett came to the conclusion that she could never be his. Scully would never love him. And so he’d rather kill her than lose her.

Padgett had stared intently into Mulder’s face to tell him that Scully was already in love with someone else. Mulder knew what he’d meant, knew that Padgett believed Scully to be in love with him. But how in the world Padgett came to believe that was beyond Mulder’s comprehension. He didn’t see how anything in the way he and Scully interacted would’ve caused Padgett to reach such a conclusion. Afterwards, Scully neither confirmed nor denied Padgett’s statement. She simply walked away in silence. This bothered Mulder even more, this silence between them. He hated it, and yet he knew he’d never find the courage to break it.

Mulder then watched Scully jerk awake, moving to lie on her back, eyes wide with confusion as they took in her surroundings. Mulder quickly stood up from his chair and she gasped, turning a frightened stare in his direction.

“Scully, it’s just me,” Mulder whispered reassuringly.

“Mulder?” she breathed. It was the first thing she’d said to him in hours.

And then Scully held out her hand to him.

Mulder sighed, as something deep in his chest clutched at him and ached. He felt tears stinging his eyes and a lump growing in his throat. What if she had died? How could he ever live without her? Scully gazed at him, her eyes also glistening with unshed tears. Mulder walked over to the couch and took her hand. Then she turned to face the back of the couch as she scooched over to press herself flush against it, taking Mulder’s hand with her. Mulder lay down on the couch behind her, bending his legs against hers, his arms wrapping around her, his mouth settling at her ear.

She didn’t speak; she kept her thoughts to herself. Suddenly a memory sprung to his mind, one of Scully sitting across from him at his desk: “Not everything is about you, Mulder. This is my life.” She’d spoken the truth, then, as much as he hated to hear it. But was it still the truth now? Was Scully silent because of her, or because of him? Had she been sitting on Padgett’s bed because of whatever was going on in her own life, or was it because of him? Mulder wondered if he’d ever know what was going on inside her mind. Had everything Padgett wrote about her been fabricated, fictionalized? Mulder was starting to doubt. There was a whole world inside Scully, a world of emotions, thoughts, hopes, dreams, a secret life that she kept locked up tight and hidden from him.

Somehow Padgett had seemed to understand her, understand her on such a deep level that Mulder had never wrapped his brain around, and this sickened him. But was it because Mulder couldn’t, or because he chose not to? If Scully was locked up tight, so was he. He knew he forcibly kept himself distant, but always refused to confront his reasons why. And so why was it that he only readily admitted how much she meant to him when something or someone tried to take her away from him? These were the tormenting thoughts raging inside Mulder’s mind as Scully drifted back to sleep in his arms.

*****

On Sunday, October 24th, Scully woke up to the morning light peeking out from behind the closed curtains of the bedroom of a king suite at the Majestic Hotel in Chicago. Mulder was behind her, with his back to the windows and his arm holding her tight to him, still asleep. The digital clock on the bedside table told her the time was 8:53 am.

Scully turned herself to lay on her other side, facing Mulder. He mumbled and pulled her closer to him. She smiled, and started to caress his face with her hands, before moving down to his neck, collar bone, and shoulder. Mulder started to stir, a slight grin breaking out over his face.

“Good morning,” Scully whispered.

“Mmm,” was Mulder’s reply, keeping his eyes closed.

Scully was now wide awake, and she wanted Mulder to wake up. They had to check out soon, so that they could head over to whatever motel Mulder had checked them into the day before and check out of that one by 11:00, and then they needed to be at the airport around noon to catch their flight home. An idea sprung to her mind, and she smirked, biting her bottom lip. Scully began to kiss Mulder’s face, starting with his jawline and moving down to his chin, before heading south and trailing kisses down his neck. More ‘mmm’s were issuing from Mulder, and Scully grinned.

Scully trailed more kisses down Mulder’s body and as her tongue dragged across his left nipple while her fingers ran through his patch of soft chest hair, Mulder’s eyes flew open, blinking himself awake.

“What’re you doing, Scully?” Mulder asked, still somewhat groggy.

“Waking you up,” she replied, pushing him over so that he was lying on his back.

Mulder chuckled. “I’m awake, I’m awake.”

But Scully kept moving south, trailing her lips and her tongue down Mulder’s torso, as her head disappeared beneath the sheet. Her mouth reached his firm stomach and Mulder groaned, feeling his groin tighten and a growing erection begin to tent the covers in front of him.

Scully kissed down the trail of hair leading from Mulder’s belly button, and felt his legs go rigid as his hips involuntarily gave a slight thrust off the mattress. She smiled against his skin.

She moved her petite body further down and away until she was lying between his legs, with Mulder giving another buck of his hips when her body slid over his now fully engorged cock. She then took her right hand, encircling his cock and started to stroke him slowly up and down. Mulder groaned.

Scully tilted his hard shaft forward, still stroking him with her warm hand, and brought her lips to his balls, gently sucking them into her mouth.

“Aahh, fuck,” Mulder gasped, squeezing his eyes shut.

She continued to lick and suck his balls, teasing the sensitive area between them with her tongue, as her hand stroked his shaft up and down, twisting around the engorged head. Scully loved the way Mulder’s breathing quickened, how he groaned her name.

Scully then moved her mouth up to lick and suck the engorged head of Mulder’s cock, and his hips bucked toward her. She then took him wholly in her mouth, squeezing the base of his shaft with one hand and gently squeezing his balls with the other.

“Scully! Fuck!” Mulder started panting.

She flattened her tongue and swirled it around his sensitive head before covering her lips over his cock and sucking him in slowly, inch by inch, increasing her suction and squeezing him tighter.

Mulder started moaning. “Aahh… that’s gonna make me come, Scully.”

As she murmured an “Mmm-hmm” around his swollen cock, Mulder’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and his hips bucked against her. But he suddenly wanted something else, something better, and he also didn’t want to be the only one getting off. Mulder then sat up, throwing the covers, taking Scully by surprise.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. The room was now much brighter as the morning light continued to make its way through the cracks between and outside the curtains. She suddenly felt exposed in the light.

“I want your cunt,” Mulder groaned, grabbing Scully and pulling her up towards him, before flipping her over onto her back. She moaned, causing his erection to throb achingly with need.

Mulder positioned himself over her as she spread her legs, his erection gliding through her swollen, soaking wet folds and prodding her entrance. “Oh, Scully,” he whispered, gazing at her with heavy lids, his brain going fuzzy with the knowledge of Scully becoming so aroused by sucking his cock.

She whimpered and started squirming. Her clit throbbed and her hot, wet center felt like it was on fire. Mulder then settled his hips between her legs, lowering his abdomen against her. He held himself up by his elbows, as his hands went to her face, his fingers caressing her cheeks, her jawline, and he gazed into her eyes.

Scully once again felt like Mulder was searching her face for something. The room was becoming brighter, and she was failing to hide behind a wall she was so desperately trying to put up. Her heart swelled as Mulder gazed at her adoringly. Mulder lowered his forehead, placing it against hers, as her arms went around his back, and her legs lifted up around his hips and her ankles locked.

Mulder groaned as he slid his throbbing cock into her dripping wet cunt. Scully moaned and gripped him tighter with her arms and legs. He pulled almost all the way back out, leaving only the engorged head inside her, before slowly entering her again. Mulder started thrusting in a slow but steady rhythmic pace, and soon started moaning.

“Harder,” Scully whimpered. Mulder’s brain went to mush. Scully had never instructed him before, told him outright what she exactly wanted or how she wanted it. He knew he wasn’t going to last long now, and he needed to make Scully come. Hearing Scully be more assertive, all Mulder could do was oblige. He lifted himself up, bringing his hands down to her legs, and threw them over his shoulders, hovering over her.

“Oh, my God…”, Scully’s eyes bulged. Mulder buried himself to the hilt and was so deep the head of his cock was lightly brushing against her cervix. He felt as good as he looked, his thick shaft filling her in a way she’d only previously imagined.

Mulder then slammed into her harder and faster, rubbing her clit with his hand. Scully’s sounds then became a mixture of loud cries and guttural moans as Mulder stroked her in an unrelenting rhythm of ecstasy with every point of contact he made with his hard cock and his hand. Tiny sparks of orgasmic pleasure were firing through her brain with every inch he gave her and every flick of his fingers. It didn’t take long before she threw her head back into the mattress and screamed as her orgasm reached its overwhelming climax. As Mulder felt Scully pulsating and clenching around him, wildly explicit language littered with her name and worship of her cunt poured out from his mouth, and he felt his cock desperately twitch and throb inside her. He gave one final deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt, and moaned loudly as his hot seed spilled onto her cervix in copious spurts.

As she came down from her high, Scully was trying to place some sort of barrier between them, afraid that in the now much brighter light of the hotel bedroom Mulder would know. He’d know her true feelings, that there’d be no way to hide the fact that she’s in love with him. He’d see it in her eyes, in her face. Scully was desperately trying to disengage her heart and put another wall up, but as Mulder gazed down at her, those efforts failed her, and she helplessly gazed up at him affectionately. But in another moment she steeled herself and averted her eyes, turning her head away from him and sighing as the pleasure coursing through her brain slowly subsided.

No words could possibly describe the emotions overpowering Mulder as he looked down at her. The want he felt for Scully was nothing like he’d ever experienced with anyone else, and filled him with a contentment he’d never known before. At that moment, he made an internal vow that he would never sacrifice their bond for anything. And as he looked into her eyes, he realized she would never leave him, whether they had the X-Files or not. It didn’t matter where they went or what they did, Mulder swore internally to obey whatever demands his friendship with Scully required. His wants and needs were now secondary to hers.


	38. "You read what he wrote about you. Are you trying to tell me that he got inside your head? That what I read is true?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully investigate a murder in Pittsfield, Virginia. Then they have yet another conversation in her kitchen.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from the episode "Rush" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by David Amann, and belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hall & Oates - "Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid"
> 
> I feel like I could run away  
> Looking at a darker day  
> Oh I'm pulling the shades away from my eyes  
> It's true the moody manners come and go  
> And it's better that you never know
> 
> Some things are better left unsaid  
> Some strings are better left undone  
> Some hearts are better left unbroken  
> Some lives are better left untouched  
> Some lies are better off believed  
> Some words are better left unspoken
> 
> My ideas seem to frighten you  
> Are you really that afraid to move  
> Oh I guess that it's your right to reason  
> I'm still dealing with a force that's so strong  
> The force is stringing us along
> 
> Some things are better left unsaid  
> Some strings are better left undone  
> Some hearts are better left unbroken  
> Some lives are better left untouched  
> Some lies are better off believed  
> Some words are better left unspoken

On Friday morning, November 12th, Mulder left a sleeping Scully at 5:00 am while it was still dark and drove home to his apartment to get ready for work. After showering and getting dressed, he turned on the television and sat on his couch to watch the local news. The first few reports were of murders in the D.C. area, most likely drug or gang-related. Mulder’s mind started to drift, thinking of other things. Then as Mulder listened to a report on a sheriff’s deputy in Pittsfield, Virginia being beaten to death the night before and the suspect, a sixteen year old boy, claiming the deputy had an invisible attacker, his interest peaked.

Mulder and Scully hadn’t had a decent case since they got back from California, and this seemed intriguing. Mulder put on his trench coat and walked out to his car to take the 90 minute drive southwest to Pittsfield. On his way, he gave Scully a call on his cell phone to let her know that he was checking out a possible case, and if it turned out to be worth their while, he’d have her join him.

After arriving at the sheriff’s station in Pittsfield at 7:30 am and reading the police report on the incident, he went to the local hospital to check out the body of the murdered deputy. Mulder couldn’t believe his eyes. He got on the phone.

“Scully.”

“Scully, it’s me. You gotta get down here.”

“Okay, Mulder. And you’re in Pittsfield, Virginia, you said?”

“Yeah, Pittsfield. Are you in the office?”

“Yep.”

“Okay. I’m gonna fax you the police report, Scully. Meet me at St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital, at the morgue.”

“I’ll be there.”

Two hours later, Scully still hadn’t arrived at the hospital. Mulder glanced at his watch; it was almost 10:15 am. He pulled out his cell phone to give her another call, but then felt something bump against his back. He turned to see Scully, in her black pantsuit and a white button down blouse, giving her a breathy laugh and a big smile. He was happy to see her.

“Uh. There you are. Heavy traffic?” Mulder said as they turned to walk down the hallway.

“Slow going,” Scully replied. “Let's just say I had ample time to read the police report that you faxed me.” Scully held up the manila file folder she was holding.

“Thoughtfully provided by the local authorities even though it doesn't begin to tell the whole story.”

“Sheriff's deputy is slain during a routine patrol. It's a tragic occurrence but I don't see the mystery here, Mulder.”

“Except that the deputy was beaten to death by an invisible assailant,” Mulder said.

“Yes, but that's according to the young man who's accused of his murder.”

“One Tony Reed, and I'm guessing wrongfully accused. He's an 'A' student moved here a few months ago from Philadelphia. He's never been in trouble in his life.”

Mulder held the morgue door open for Scully to walk through.

“Mulder, tell me you've got more than SAT scores to show that this Tony Reed didn't commit this crime,” Scully said as she put on a pair of latex gloves from a box on a cart next to the body.

“Maybe,” he replied quietly. “Take a look at the body.”

Scully turned on the overhead light, flipped back the sheet, and looked at the smashed face of the deputy. She gaped, and then looked back up at Mulder in shock.

“The former Deputy Ronald Foster,” Mulder said. “As you can see, the report doesn't quite do it justice.”

Scully stared at the body. “Oh, my God, it looks like he was hit with a sledgehammer.”

“Police flashlight. One blow.”

Scully looked at him in disbelief, before turning to examine the body. “The damage to the maxillofacial bones and the cranium is consistent with a blunt-force trauma, but... I'd say that, uh, Tony eats his Wheaties.”

“Check out the back of his head,” Mulder replied quietly.

Scully bent down to look and saw the twisted glass and metal amid the bloody hair. “Ugh! His eyeglasses.”

“Penetrated to the back of his skull. Babe Ruth couldn't hit this hard, let alone a high school sophomore.”

“Well, maybe if he was under the influence of PCP or some kind of stimulant,” Scully reasoned.

“No, his tox screen came back negative,” Mulder replied.

“Well, even so, I mean, stress and fear may have triggered an adrenaline response, which is known to enable feats of near-superhuman strength.”

Mulder gave a small smile and nod at Scully’s explanation, before turning to see the sheriff enter the morgue. Mulder could tell that he didn’t look happy.

“Agent Mulder? How long are you planning on being down here?”

“Uh, Sheriff Harden, this is my partner, Agent Scully.”

The sheriff completely ignored Scully and stared hard at Mulder. “How long you planning on being down here? I'd like Ron left in peace. I don't know what there is to see, anyway. We got the kid who did it.”

“Sheriff, we don't mean to second-guess you,” replied Scully, somewhat reassuringly. “We're just hoping to be of some assistance.”

The Sheriff stared at her. “Well, I don't need it. I got the murder weapon with bloody fingerprints and once the state crime lab matches that up with Tony Reed, it's open and shut.”

Mulder turned to look over at Scully, and said casually “Well, uh... we're done here. Right?” Scully nodded. He then turned back to the sheriff. “But, Sheriff Harden, you won't mind if I talk to Tony Reed, do you? I mean, it won't hurt your case and if he did do it, you'll want to know why.”

Sheriff Harden stared at them, considering. “Alright, then. I’ve already had several of my men talk to the kid, and so far we haven’t been able to make him crack. So knock yourselves out.”

Mulder and Scully made their way from St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital over to the Sheriff’s Station. Mulder signed his and Scully’s names into the visitor registry for Tony Reed, and after glancing at his watch, also wrote down 10:55 am in the time column. They were then cleared to visit Reed.

As Mulder and Scully walked down the hallway towards the interrogation room holding Tony Reed, a pretty blonde young woman wearing a tight pink long-sleeved shirt and blue jeans bumped into Mulder as they passed. Mulder turned to look, and saw her staring and smirking at him. Scully grabbed his elbow and he turned to see her glaring at him and arching an eyebrow, before she let go and turned towards the interrogation room.

“What?” Mulder said, laughing defensively.

Scully didn’t acknowledge this, and they entered the room to see Tony Reed sitting at the table.

“Well, Tony, this must be your lucky day for visitors,” Mulder quipped, thinking of that blonde girl and now Scully. “This is Agent Scully with the FBI…”

“I'm not talking anymore, okay?” Tony said, interrupting him.

“Well, that might make things worse and they seem pretty bad already,” Scully replied. “In your statement you say that Deputy Foster stopped you but you don't say why.” She then pushed the case folder towards Tony.

“Come on, you were cruising, right?” Mulder said. “I mean, a small town like this you're not exactly living La Vida Loca. I know. I grew up in Dullsville, too, you know. Nothing to do but drive and park.”

“How long ago was that?” Tony asked sarcastically.

Mulder took the verbal hit, and inwardly groaned. _Teenagers._

“Look,” Tony continued. “Don't you think I know what you're doing? You're like the tenth cop who's come in here trying to relate to me till I confess.”

“If you didn't do it, it's all the more reason to clear it up,” Scully reasoned.

But Tony was firm. “Everything I know is in my statement.”

“Okay, but bear with us 'cause we're old and stupid,” Mulder quipped bitterly. Scully looked down at the table to hide her smile.

“How long was it between the time you heard the scream to the time you found Deputy Foster?” Mulder asked.

Tony didn’t reply, and Mulder turned to look up at Scully standing next to him.

As if on cue, Scully spoke. “Tony, you're not likely to get a fairer hearing than this.”

“Maybe 10... 15 seconds,” he answered.

Mulder thought about this. “Okay, but you didn't see anyone near the patrol car? You didn't hear anything? And you're still gonna stick with your story that you were the only one there. Is that right?”

A long, silent pause filled the room. Mulder thought Tony looked visibly uncomfortable.

“I want to go back to my cell,” Tony replied.

Mulder and Scully then walked back out to the hallway outside the interrogation room, and spoke quietly.

“Sixteen years old and his life is over unless he starts telling the truth.”

“If you really think he's guilty, Scully, why don't you ask yourself this: why wouldn't he make up a more plausible cover story? Why didn't he say that, uh, a pickup full of hillbillies drove by and clobbered the deputy and ran away?”

“I'm not saying he's guilty, Mulder. I'm inclined to agree that Tony Reed did not commit murder but I think that he saw the person who did, and he may be covering up for him.”

“I'm not sure there was a person to see. I think there was a force at work here.”

“What kind of force?” Scully asked, as if bracing herself for one of Mulder’s bizarre theories.

“I don't know… some kind of territorial or spiritual entity, maybe.”

Scully sighed, staring into the room where one of the deputies was handcuffing Tony Reed.

“Poltergeists have long been associated with violent acts like this and they tend to manifest around young people,” Mulder continued. “They seem to be drawn to the turmoil of adolescence.”

“Mulder,” Scully replied somewhat innocently, almost coyly, looking down at his tie and then grabbing it with her hand. “Rather than spirits... can we at least start with Tony's friends?” Scully continued to play with Mulder’s tie, and then looked back up into Mulder’s face. “Please? Just... for me? I think there's one person in particular I'd like to talk to.”

Mulder turned his head to give a meaningful look down the hallway where the blonde girl had left earlier, remembering Scully’s reaction, and then looked back at her. After checking the visitor registry to get the name of the blonde girl, they left the Sheriff’s Station and drove towards the high school. Mulder’s mind drifted back to the station where Scully had played with his tie, the backs of her fingers lightly brushing against his dress shirt-covered stomach. Was that Scully attempting to use her feminine wiles on him in order to get her way? He supposed it had worked. He glanced over at her in the passenger seat and grinned, looking forward to later that night.

*****

At 11:50 am, they arrived at the high school main office and received the class schedule for the girl they wanted to talk to. They then waited in the hallway outside her classroom. The bell rung, and students began leaving the class. Mulder and Scully recognized the blonde girl from the Sheriff’s Station earlier.

“Chastity Raines?” said Scully, holding up her badge. “I'm Agent Scully. This is Agent Mulder. We're with the FBI.”

“Yeah, I remember you,” Chastity said, smirking, before turning to walk over to her locker as Mulder and Scully followed her.

“Chastity, what did you and Tony talk about this morning?” Mulder asked, walking behind her.

“He didn't kill that cop,” she said.

“How can you be so sure?” asked Mulder.

“Tony just doesn't have it in him,” Chastity replied casually.

Scully wasn’t about to take any shit from this girl. “Do you?”

Chastity opened up her locker, giving Mulder and Scully an apprehensive look.

“Were you there when it happened?” Mulder asked.

“Look, I gotta go,” she replied evasively, putting on her varsity jacket.

Scully stared at her. “Do you realize that Tony could go to prison for the rest of his life for this?”

Chastity paused as she did up her jacket, looking at Scully and thinking about what she just said.

Mulder could sense she was holding something back. “Chastity, if you know something now is the time to mention it.”

A young man came over to them, and wrapped his arm around Chastity’s shoulders possessively.

“Unless they got a warrant, you don't have to say nothing,” he said.

“Wow, you must be her lawyer,” Mulder quipped.

He stared at Mulder. “Let's go,” he said to Chastity.

Mulder did not like this guy. “Gee, butting in to our investigation. I wonder what your father, the sheriff, would think.”

“How do you know who my dad is?”

Mulder pointed at the name on the kid’s school folder. “You got the same last name.”

“Oh, you're good,” he replied sarcastically. “We're done here. Come on, babe.” As he walked away with his arm around Chastity, he stared at Scully. “You must have been a Betty back in the day.”

Mulder and Scully stared after them. “A ‘Betty’?” Scully asked.

“Back in the day,” Mulder quipped dryly, staring at the back of Chastity’s school jacket as she walked down the hall and noticing the "Adams High Panthers" logo with the word "SUCKS" added at the bottom. _Fucking teenagers._

Scully’s cell phone rang. “Scully.”

Mulder turned his attention from Chastity and her boyfriend to look down at Scully.

“Hello, Agent Scully? This is Sheriff Harden. We seem to have a situation here. The murder weapon is missing.”

“What about the murder weapon?”

“It’s missing from evidence. Gone. Could you and Agent Mulder come back down here?”

“We’ll be right there,” Scully said, before hanging up.

After arriving back at the Sheriff’s Station 15 minutes later, Harden showed Mulder and Scully to the evidence room where Deputy Foster’s police flashlight was missing. After Scully asked about the security tape, they watched the footage of the flashlight being locked away and then nothing for several hours until the state police showed up to take it to the crime lab, and it was gone. After the sheriff left the evidence room, Mulder showed Scully an anomaly on the tape. For a split second, a fuzzy figure could be seen as Mulder paused the tape, but then in the next frame it was gone. Scully didn’t know what to make of it, and she wondered if this would somehow fuel Mulder’s poltergeist theory.

*****

That afternoon, Mulder decided to take the security tape to the University of Maryland in College Park and see if Chuck Burks and his Advanced Digital Imaging Lab might be able to shed some light on the anomaly on the tape. Chuck told Mulder that he’d take a look at the tape over the weekend and see if he can figure it out. After stopping back at his apartment, showering, and changing into casual clothes, he drove to Scully’s apartment in Georgetown.

Scully heard a knock at her door, and after glancing at the clock to see the time was 5:38 pm, she opened it to see Mulder standing there in a pair of blue jeans and a heather gray sweater with his black leather jacket over it.

“I didn’t expect to see you,” she said in a surprised tone of voice.

Mulder gave her a puzzled look. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“Um… because we’re working a case.”

Mulder stared at her, and then grinned. “Yeah, close to home. It’s not like we had to check into a motel, Scully. Are you saying that when you’re at home while we’re working a case you are still on Bureau time?”

Scully’s mouth twitched. How was she going to respond to that? She’d been hoping to have a night off to herself. Scully wondered when Mulder was going to revert back to his solitary nature, but also dreaded it at the same time. She sighed, and then opened her door wide for Mulder to walk through.

Scully followed Mulder into the kitchen, and started pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator while Mulder grabbed two plates, silverware, and napkins before sitting at the table. He then sat and watched Scully while she prepared dinner. Once it was ready, he grabbed two wine glasses and pulled a bottle of red wine out of the refrigerator. They ate their spaghetti dinner in comfortable silence mostly, and occasionally discussed aspects of the Pittsfield case.

Mulder continued to sit at the kitchen table, watching Scully’s back as she washed the dishes. She was wearing dark jeans and a form-fitting sweater that was some shade of dark purple, like eggplant almost. He stood up from the table and walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and bringing his mouth to the side of her neck.

“Mulder, what are you doing?” Scully asked, somewhat annoyed. Her hands were in a sink full of soapy water, scrubbing a saucepan.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he whispered into her ear, before bringing his lips back down to her neck.

Scully sighed. “But we really should focus on working the case without distractions.”

Mulder grinned into her ear. “Am I a distraction, Scully?”

“Yes, a big one.”

He pressed his hips tightly against her. “Hmm… how big?”

She snorted and shook her head.

Mulder then thought of something. “So, uh, what was that earlier? At the Sheriff’s Station?”

Scully didn’t know what he was referring to. “What was what?”

“That look you gave me after Chastity Raines bumped into me.”

Now she knew what he was talking about. “You were blatantly staring at her, Mulder.”

He snorted. “Scully, she was staring at me. I only turned to look.”

“Mmm-hmm,” ahe replied, skeptically.

Mulder was getting a kick out of this. “Scully, you weren’t jealous of a teenage girl, were you?”

She thought of his video collection. “Well, who knows what you like, Mulder?”

He gripped her tighter to him. “I like you,” he said softly into her ear. “What do you like?”

Scully smirked. “I like you, too, Mulder.”

“Hmm… what else do you like?” he whispered as he pressed himself into her again. “Tell me.”

“Mulder…”

“I want to hear you say the words, Scully. I want you to describe what you like, what you want me to do to you. I know I like it when you get jealous. Now you tell me something.”

She felt her face start to redden, and wanted to change the subject. “Jealousy is beneath me.”

He chuckled. “Oh really? Because it’s not beneath me.”

Scully rolled her eyes. “And what do you have to be jealous about, Mulder?”

He paused. “Kresge.”

“Please,” she scoffed.

Mulder loosened his grip on Scully’s waist as she moved the clean saucepan onto the dry rack. “Jerse.”

She sighed. “But that was so long ago, Mulder. Aren’t you ever going to forget it?”

He then remembered the night after the banquet, flipping her over on to her stomach and taking her from behind. The sex had been amazing, and her cunt had been so unbelievably tight in that position, but Mulder suddenly realized that they’d never done it that way since. He didn’t want to see the scar.

“No, never.” _You’ve made sure of that with that goddamned tattoo._

Scully shook her head. She couldn’t believe this was still an issue. “Well, are you ever going to get over it?”

Mulder’s thoughts dwelled on how good the sex had been after the banquet, how hard he’d made her come. “I think I can, yeah.”

Scully chuckled.

“Why did you sleep with Jerse?” Mulder blurted it out before he could stop himself, this question that had been burning him up for almost three years, this question that he’d buried alongside everything else he’d never been able to ask her. He thought he knew the reason, had it figured out, but he wanted to hear the words from Scully.

She paused. “There were several reasons, Mulder.”

“Tell me. I want to hear them.” He let go of her waist and walked over to stand on the other side of the sink, and leaned against the counter, looking at her.

“Well, first, he was an attractive man that was giving me attention. I would say that’s reason enough for some people.”

Mulder scoffed.

Scully stared at him. “Do you want to hear my reasons, or don’t you?”

He put his hands up, surrendering.

She sighed. “Also, I knew you wouldn’t like it. And I was… rebelling against you in some way. Like I always tend to do when an authoritative, controlling man walks into my life.”

Yep, Mulder knew it. He’d been an ass. An ass who had been ignoring Scully during a time when she was obviously having a personal crisis, seeing as how a week later she told him she had cancer.

He crossed his arms. “I’m sorry, Scully.”

She sighed again. She’d asked herself the Jerse question many times, and usually coming up with different reasons. There was one reason, at the core, that was always present, but she didn’t feel like sharing that one, so she kept it to herself.

“I know. And anyways, Mulder, that was a long time ago. Years. I don’t even think about it, and neither should you.”

He nodded, and then moved away from the counter and walked over to the refrigerator to grab a beer. But he then thought of something else, someone else. Mulder turned to stare at Scully’s back, as she was drying the clean dishes. He didn’t want to say it. Mulder didn’t know if he even truly wanted to talk about what had happened. But it was let loose, before he could stop it.

“Padgett.”

Scully froze. They had never talked about him. They had never talked about what happened. Sure, Scully had signed off on the case report Mulder had written, but she couldn’t even bring herself to read it. She felt guilty, and afraid that a conversation about Padgett would lead to other uncomfortable conversations that she wasn’t ready to have. She swallowed. “That was fiction, Mulder.”

He glared at her. He felt angry all of a sudden. “Yeah, which parts?”

Scully turned to stare at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You reciprocated his feelings for you, didn’t you?”

She felt her body tense up, and she averted her eyes. “Mulder, of course not.”

He saw she couldn’t look him in the face and say it. “Hmm. But you thought about it, right?”

She felt anxiety flood her stomach. “You don’t want to hear about this, Mulder.”

Scully turned to walk out of the kitchen, but Mulder quickly went around the table and stood in front of her, blocking the way. “Yes, I do. I want to hear all of it. Why were you sitting on his bed, in the dark?”

She felt trapped. “Because… I was curious about him. I wanted to know how a complete stranger knew me so well.”

He balked at her. “You told me that what he wrote about you wasn’t true. That he didn’t get inside your head.”

Scully looked down at her hands, her fingers entwining nervously. “I lied,” she whispered.

He glowered at her. “What else did you lie about?”

She looked up at him, and sighed. “Mulder…”

He felt hot anger rising up from the pit of his stomach. “If I hadn’t walked in on the two of you sitting there on his bed, what would’ve happened?” he asked slowly, carefully enunciating each syllable.

She swallowed, and averted her eyes again. She’d fantasized about Padgett, she couldn’t deny it. But there was no way in hell she was going to tell Mulder. In that moment, Scully erected walls of steel around herself. When she looked back up into Mulder’s face, all he could see was cold fury.

“And how many times did you read that chapter, Mulder? How many times did you picture me fucking him right next door? Did you imagine yourself listening through the wall? Or watching through the camera?”

He stared at her in shock. “Do you think I actually liked reading that? And now to hear that all the other stuff Padgett wrote about you was true! I thought I knew you better than that, but I guess not.”

Scully glared at him. “You are just like Padgett.”

Mulder stared at her in wide-eyed shock. “What?!”

“You both thought you know me better than I know myself, intruding into my life, only to act so fucking condescending.”

Mulder knew she was right. He had laid claim to her, and set standards for her out of his own idea of who she was or who he expected her to be. How much did he know about her, really? How much did he know about Scully’s inner life? The truths about her habits, beliefs, and feelings? Her personal struggles with her career, her colleagues? Her past relationships? Padgett deciphered these truths, wrote them eloquently down on paper, accepted her and loved her for them. But if there was ever a reason for why Mulder didn’t know these things about her, it was because she wouldn’t allow him to. Or was it because he’d never attempted to know?

“Well, maybe I shouldn’t intrude into your life anymore,” he finally replied.

Scully’s face fell and she knitted her brows as Mulder turned away from her, grabbed his leather jacket off the coat rack, and left.


	39. “You ask an impertinent question and you're on your way to a pertinent answer.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully goes to Mulder's apartment to clear the air.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Counting Crows – “Colorblind”
> 
> I am colorblind  
> Coffee black and egg white  
> Pull me out from inside  
> I am ready  
> I am ready  
> I am ready  
> I am…
> 
> Taffy stuck and tongue tied  
> Stutter, shook, and uptight  
> Pull me out from inside  
> I am ready  
> I am ready  
> I am ready  
> I am fine
> 
> I am covered in skin  
> No one gets to come in  
> Pull me out from inside  
> I am folded  
> And unfolded  
> And unfolding
> 
> I am colorblind  
> Coffee black and egg white  
> Pull me out from inside  
> I am ready  
> I am ready  
> I am ready  
> I am fine  
> I am fine  
> I am fine

Scully half-expected Mulder to turn around and come right back, continue the argument or make amends. But neither happened. Scully tried not to think about Mulder when she channel surfed the TV, she tried not to think about him when she took a shower, she tried not to think about him when she brushed her teeth, she tried not to think about him when she changed into her flannel pajamas, and she tried even harder not to think about him when she lay down in bed. She tried to sleep but after glancing at the bedside clock that told her the time was 12:21 am, having spent nearly an hour and a half lying awake in bed, she gave up. Scully bolted out of bed, shoved her feet into her black leather ankle boots, grabbed her FBI badge, wallet, and car keys, threw on her black jacket, and walked out the door.

After a 15 minute drive in the rain, she was walking into Mulder’s apartment building. At first she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been here, but then the memory of that night she’d confronted him about her ova came back to her. And here she was again, to confront him.

Scully sighed as she stood in front of his apartment door. She didn’t want to argue anymore. She wanted to make things right, explain herself fully, so that this subject could be dropped forever. She had to find a way to make things clear, so that Mulder knew the truth, so that he would know there was absolutely nothing to be jealous over or angry about. Scully braced herself, her stomach filling with butterflies, and then knocked on the door.

Mulder opened the door 30 seconds later, still wearing the same clothes from earlier, to see Scully standing there in boots, black plaid flannel pajama pants, and a black jacket with water spots all over it from the rain.

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” Scully asked.

He stared at her. “Do you honestly think I could sleep?”

Scully sighed, and looked down. But then she raised her head, determined not to avert her eyes. “Can I come in? There are things I want to say.”

Mulder nodded and stepped away from the door, allowing her to enter the apartment. She walked over to his living room, removed her boots and set her jacket over the back of the desk chair, and sat down on the couch with her legs bent under her. Mulder followed her, and sat down on the other end of the couch, closest to his front door. Scully sighed over him sitting as far away from her as possible.

Mulder took a deep breath, setting his elbows on his knees, staring at his hands. “I know you came over here because you wanted to talk, but there are things I need to tell you first.”

She felt her stomach twist into even tighter knots as she took in his posture.

But Mulder then sat up and turned to look her in the face. “I’m sorry for behaving so rudely earlier. It really was none of my business, what happened with Jerse. I shouldn't have asked you such a personal question. And yes, I loathed Padgett. Yes, he was a murderer. And I had been angry that you’d refused to believe that he was involved in the murders we were investigating.”

Scully sighed. “Mulder, I felt so guilty. I still do. All those people who were killed, brutally murdered… I’m the reason they’re dead.”

He shook his head, and moved closer to her on the couch. “Scully, Padgett is the reason they’re dead. It’s not your fault he was obsessed with you, stalked you. But he was taken in by you, and wanted to impress you. I can relate. I certainly can’t fault him for that.”

She stared at him, and his eyes met her gaze. “I just wished that you would’ve realized his guilt, Scully. And not only did you believe his innocence, but…” Mulder sighed. He felt uncomfortable, but he knew he needed to say it. More than that, he knew she needed to hear it. “You would’ve allowed him to kiss you, to… to touch you. But there were places that you wanted to be touched, needed to be touched. You wanted things, needed things. Padgett realized this, and showed you that he knew those things about you, offered to give those things to you. And I was the horse’s ass who didn’t realize it. Or, well… I don’t know… I probably did realize it but I just… ignored it.”

Scully gazed at him, guessing at how difficult it was for him to admit all that. “He was right about some things, Mulder. And I was flattered by his attention, the kind of attention I rarely ever received. I was flattered by the words in his book, they made me feel things I’d thought I’d forgotten, that I thought I’d buried. Some parts were frighteningly accurate, but some things he said were way off base.”

Mulder fought the urge to once again blurt out “Which parts?” but he held back. “Scully, he knew things about you that I didn’t, and still don’t. Maybe he knew you better than I do. It sickens me.”

As he once again turned to stare at his hands, Scully knew she had to tell the truth. But she had to find some way to say it without revealing too much, without leaving herself too vulnerable and open to a reaction of awkward silence or, even worse, outright rejection.

“Mulder, I spent the night with Jerse because I was angry that a complete stranger, someone who didn’t know me at all, wanted to give me that kind of attention, but you… you who knows me better than anyone… you didn’t want to.”

He sat up again, staring at her, listening to the rain pound against the apartment building, against the window over his desk.

“I was attracted to Padgett… because I thought he saw things in me that you didn’t. He acknowledged feelings I had, desires, which you blatantly ignored. But that doesn’t mean he knew me. Padgett’s alluring descriptions of me were somewhat fulfilling but they were also completely empty. He knew some things about me, but only based on observations he’d made from a distance. There’s knowing facts, but then there’s understanding who a person really is. Mulder, you know me. You understand me. And not based on hypotheses and conjecture. Based on real interaction, interaction that’s taken place over many years. And when Padgett finally started interacting with me in the real world, he realized he’d been wrong about me. Because he didn’t know me, not really.”

Mulder then remembered something Padgett had said: “Agent Scully is already in love.” He wanted to ask her if that was one of the frighteningly accurate parts or if Padgett had been way off base about that, but he was too afraid to ask. He wasn’t sure if he was prepared for either an answer in the affirmative or negative.

“But Jerse and Padgett… I guess I had just wished it had been you. They didn’t care about me the way you do, Mulder. How could they? They couldn’t possibly know, or understand, what we’ve been through together. Padgett certainly couldn’t comprehend your place in my life, there was nothing in his book about our partnership, our friendship, and because of that he didn’t know me at all.”

Mulder sighed. _Why hadn’t it been me?_ It should’ve been him, but she sought comfort in the arms of strangers. Well, it was him now, and it was gonna stay that way.

Scully stood up from the couch, and went and sat on the coffee table in front of Mulder. He reached out to grab her hands, and to his delight, she didn’t pull away. She allowed him to hold her, placing her small, soft hands inside his slightly rougher and larger ones. They both sat there, in silence, listening to the rain.

“Do you want me to intrude into your life, Scully?” Mulder asked quietly.

She gazed at him. “Yes,” she answered.

“What else do you want?”

She could think of a hundred answers to this question, but only one that would do for the moment. “I want you to make love to me,” Scully whispered.

Mulder’s eyes met her steady gaze. It was the first time either of them had used those words, up until now it always had been various words and phrases to denote fucking.

He pulled her off the table and into his arms, pressing her tightly against him, as her legs wrapped around his hips to straddle him. He then placed both hands under her and stood up as she locked her arms and legs around him, carrying her petite frame to his bedroom.

Once Mulder had opened the bedroom door and walked in, he flipped the light switch on the wall and then felt her body tense up. “Do you want the lights off, Scully?”

She looked at him and silently nodded. Scully didn’t want to feel self-conscious, didn’t want to put her guard up, especially tonight. She wanted to make things clear to him without feeling like she was exposing herself too much.

Mulder turned off the light, but noticed that he’d left the bathroom light on earlier when Scully had knocked. She didn’t seem to care that it was on, so he left it alone. He didn’t want the room to be pitch black, he wanted to be able to see her. He set her down on his bed and then turned down the covers, as she scooched up towards the headboard, sliding them underneath her.

Scully felt adrenaline pumping through her veins and filling her stomach with butterflies, felt hot desire start to pool at her center and Mulder hadn’t even kissed her yet. They had never had sex in his apartment, in his bed. How often had she imagined going behind that door to this room, lying in this bed? Too many times to count, and always swiftly suppressed. But now she was here, and this was really happening.

Mulder climbed up on the bed and laid down next to Scully, holding himself over her with his forearm and wrapping his other arm around her waist and turned her towards him. He caught her lips with his, slipping his tongue inside her mouth to tangle with hers. He kept the kissing soft and light until she moaned, and then he pushed her over until she was flat on her back and he was pressing into her, her legs spreading and moving up and around his jeans-clad hips.

Mulder began kissing Scully’s jaw and neck while his fingers unbuttoned her black plaid flannel pajama top. Once he’d loosened all the buttons, he gathered the material and pulled it up and off as she raised her arms, revealing her bare breasts. Once she was free of the top, her hands reached down for the hem of his heather gray sweater and pushed it up to his shoulders, along with the white undershirt, before Mulder took it the rest of the way off and tossed it on the floor beside Scully’s pajama top.

He then returned to pressing his body into hers, his firm chest against her soft and perfectly round breasts. Mulder groaned as his lips recaptured hers, Scully’s arms moving around his back, the member inside his jeans beginning to harden. After a couple minutes, he lifted himself up slightly, and his fingers began to tenderly brush the soft, milky skin of her stomach. Scully arched her back, needing more. Mulder grunted in reply, his hands moving up her body and his thumbs running along the undersides of her breasts.

She was squirming, and she could feel her wetness pooling, her clit throbbing like mad. He was moving achingly slow. “Mulder…” she whimpered, breaking their kiss.

“What do you want, Scully?” he whispered.

She pressed her arms tighter around his back. “I want you.”

An idea floated to the front of Mulder’s mind, stemming from earlier at her apartment and now building since their conversation on his couch. “Tell me what you want.”

She felt her face redden slightly with embarrassment. “You already know what I want,” she whispered.

Mulder looked down at her, remembering Padgett’s book. There was a dark abyss inside Scully, one that she kept locked up tight and perhaps even Padgett hadn’t been able to penetrate with his illuminating observations, a dark space of desire, want, and need. He didn’t want this space to be dark anymore, he wanted it open, and he wanted Scully to be the one to open it. He wanted to be the one, the only one, she opened it for.

“I know some things, Scully. But I want to really know you, who you are, what you want. I want you to tell me what you want from me, what you want me to do.”

She snorted. “Since when have you ever liked me telling you what to do?”

He grinned. “This is different. Scully, I’m not doing anything unless you tell me to do it.”

She could see the wicked gleam in his eyes, and she could feel cringing embarrassment rising up in the pit of her stomach and spreading all the way to her reddening face.

Mulder thought that maybe he should help her along. “What would you like me to do first?”

Scully felt torn. She knew what she wanted, but the idea of speaking the words out loud to him seemed mortifying. She wasn’t sure why, it was just Mulder. But then it dawned on Scully that maybe it had been her all along who hadn’t been able to decipher between who she was as Mulder’s partner and who she was as a woman. She had locked herself away behind her sensible suits and her badge and her commanding respect. Padgett had been right, for her to think of herself as just a woman was bridling. And to speak her desires out loud, in regards to herself and her own body, was unthinkable.

Mulder could see the inner turmoil, it was written all over her face. “Let me in, Scully. I want to know you better than anyone else does, or ever did. Um… other than yourself, of course.”

She laughed at the contrite expression that accompanied his afterthought. “Kiss me, Mulder.”

He smiled. “Hey, now we’re getting somewhere.”

She rolled her eyes and chuckled. Mulder devoured her mouth with his, kissing her passionately. Scully moaned. She loved his lips, they were both soft and firm and the combination sent more waves of moisture rushing out from inside her hot center.

After breaking their kiss to breathe, Scully tilted her head and placed her right forefinger at her chin and then traced back all along her right jawline to the back of her ear and then down her neck, smirking at Mulder. He gave her a wide-eyed smile, before tracing this same line with his lips, stopping briefly at that soft spot of flesh behind her earlobe and probed with his tongue.

She gasped, her fingers pressing hard into his back, and she started squirming. Mulder continued the trail of his lips and tongue down her neck, before dipping into her clavicle. Scully started writhing underneath him, and she brought her hands down from his back to palm at her own breasts.

He quickly grabbed her hands away and lifted them up above her head, before holding both her wrists together in one of his hands. He smirked at her. “Nuh-uh, I’m going to do that. But only after you tell me to.”

“Mulder, come on,” Scully said, half-laughing, and trying to wriggle her hands free from his grasp, but quickly gave up.

“Tell me,” he breathed, looking down into her face.

She sighed. “Touch me,” she whispered.

“Touch you where?”

She pursed her lips at him. “My breasts, Mulder. Touch them.”

He laughed, releasing her wrists from his grip. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Scully glared at him. “I’m going to kill you, Mulder.”

He chuckled, wondering how she was going to react as this thing carried on. Mulder then brought his large, warm hands to Scully’s soft breasts, heavy and full with arousal, savoring their weight in his palms.

“Mulder,” she breathed against his lips. She arched her back, pressing her breasts into his hands. He felt her nipples harden into taut, pink nubs.

“I like it when you say my name, Scully. You should say it more.”

She gave him a puzzled look. “I say your name all the time, Mulder.”

He looked at her somewhat sheepishly. “Not during sex.”

Scully was surprised at this. “I don’t?”

Mulder shook his head.

She had no idea whether she did or didn’t do this. Scully knew his name ran through her mind continually, but she also knew a lot of things did that she never dared say out loud. “I’ll keep it in mind,” she whispered.

He snorted. “Okay.”

She smiled, and then bit her lip.

Mulder continued fondling her breasts, as his lips once again caught hers, alternating between gently squeezing them and rolling her nipples with his fingers. Scully was moaning, and squirming. She felt like she would combust, he was moving so slow. She pulled his bottom lip into her mouth, and licked it with her tongue. He groaned, but he didn’t pick up the pace. As soon as the thought entered her mind, wondering why Mulder wasn’t moving on to something else, she realized she hadn’t told him to. _Damn him._

He noticed the frustrated expression on her face. “Tell me what you want, Scully.”

She was cringing inside. Why was he making her say it out loud?! She could strangle him. She sighed. “Your mouth, Mulder. On my body.”

He looked at her questioningly. “Where on your body?”

Scully glared at him. “Fucking… everywhere! Jesus!”

He laughed. “You’re really getting riled up, aren’t you? And where would you like me to start first?” Mulder asked, gazing into her eyes and at the same time pinching her nipples.

Scully moaned, and her hips rocked against him. “You know where,” she whimpered.

“Say it.” He was thoroughly enjoying this.

“I want your mouth on my breasts, Mulder,” she sighed.

He slid back down, moving his hips away from her squirming center, and then leaned over, flattening his tongue, and traced the underside of one breast. She tasted salty and sweet, soft and warm against his lips. Mulder licked and sucked along the curves of her breasts, carefully avoiding her nipples. He stared down at her, loving how her chest heaved with anticipation as she panted.

“Mulder,” Scully whimpered, digging her fingers into his biceps, hips squirming. She felt like her blood was a raging fire.

He then ran his tongue up and over one nipple. She began making small grunting pants, and that was just after one stroke of his tongue. Mulder gave her a blazing stare, filled with feral determination. He was going to make her beg for it, and then scream. He smirked before his lips wrapped around her areola, his tongue making long strokes over the hardened nipple.

Scully whimpered, arching her back and pressing herself against his mouth. Mulder heeded her cue and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. She started moaning and her hands went to his hair, encouraging him.

He moved to give attention to her other breast, grazing his teeth against her taut nipple before sucking it into his mouth. Scully hissed, and started squirming even more.

“Mulder…”

“What, Scully? Tell me,” he whispered, lifting his head from her breast.

She was fighting with herself, but then gave up. “Do that biting thing again.”

Mulder smiled at her. “From that night in Chicago?”

Scully nodded, breathing hard.

He grinned before taking her nipple back into his mouth, sucking and flicking it back and forth with his tongue. Then gazing up intently at her face, he bit down and watched her eyes roll back inside her head and her mouth fall open, her hips bucking against him.

Scully had been trying to keep her eyes open, but was failing miserably. Her eyes squeezed shut, and all she could see was tiny flashes of light as Mulder did amazing things to her breasts. His warm hands caressing and pinching, replaced by his mouth, soft, hard, and hot as it laved over her. The throbbing ache of her clit was unbearable, and she knew her underwear had to be soaked right through.

Mulder then sat up, bending her knees to his side and pulling her pajama bottoms and panties down her hips and off her legs along with her socks, throwing them on the floor. He then returned to hover over her, settling himself between her legs as he kissed and licked his way down her abdomen, and the creamy, soft skin of her belly.

As Mulder trailed his mouth over Scully’s hip bone, he nipped at it with his teeth, and she arched towards him, groaning his name. He felt his throbbing cock strain painfully, but he knew it was going to be worth the wait.

Mulder then completely bypassed Scully’s center, as her legs spread out before him, and he turned his attention to the back of her right knee, kissing her delicate skin. He then started to move down her thigh, kissing and darting his tongue out against her.

“Bite, Mulder,” Scully moaned.

He grinned. “How hard?”

She snorted. “Well, don’t draw blood, but… hard enough to leave a mark.”

Mulder blazed with desire and arousal at the idea of marking Scully, claiming her. And he left a trail of bite marks down her thigh, gently soothing each spot with his tongue afterwards before moving on.

The ache of Scully’s clit was intolerable. She felt like she could cry with insatiable need, and that her center was rippling with pre-orgasmic waves, on the verge of coming, just by feeling Mulder’s hands and the scratchiness of his stubble on her thighs.

He spread her legs wide in front of him. He breathed in her heavy scent of arousal, making his head spin. God, he loved that scent. He stared up at her face, and smirked.

Scully opened her eyes and looked down at him, the sight filling her brain with wanton need. “What are you waiting for?”

“You haven’t told me what to do,” Mulder replied simply.

She felt overpowering, cringing embarrassment rising up as she stared at him. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t say it. There was no way. Scully nervously shook her head at him.

Mulder decided that he was going to have to drive her crazy enough to crack, which was fine by him because he wanted her so insane with lust that she was begging him.

“You’re so wet, Scully,” he said, studying her soft, glistening pink center.

She started breathing heavier, her widened eyes glued to his face.

He bent down towards her and Scully bucked her hips towards him, but he held her down with his strong hands. Mulder then rubbed two fingers against the bottom curves of her ass, moving them up to her groin, gathering her juices.

“So wet,” he whispered, before locking eyes with her and sucking his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean. “You taste good.”

Scully stared at him, mouth agape and eyes wide, panting. She felt her clit tighten, her core become even hotter, and fresh waves of moisture pour out from her center. She wanted him. She wanted it. She wanted him to suck her clit. But she still couldn’t tell him so. Something in her brain, or deep in the pit of her knotted stomach, was preventing her from speaking those words out loud.

But Mulder was determined that this was a battle he was going to win. He then took those same two fingers and gently parted her drenched folds, being careful not to touch the places she most wanted him to. “I can’t get over how fucking pretty your cunt is, Scully,” he whispered. “I love your cunt. I love how it tastes. I love the way it feels around my hard cock. I love how it clutches at me when I’m inside you, like you don’t want to let me go.”

“Oh, my God…” she moaned somewhat involuntarily, eyes rolling. His words were driving her over the edge.

“What was that, Scully?” Mulder was trying not to laugh at her unraveling.

“Mulder…” she whimpered desperately.

He smirked. “What do you want?”

Scully was panting, but she couldn’t say those explicit words. However, she thought of something else that might lead to the same result. “I want… you inside me.”

“What do you want inside you?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at her amusedly.

She was going to fucking kill him. “Your tongue, Mulder,” Scully whimpered.

He then leaned forward, bringing his hands up the backs of her thighs, partly bending her knees down on top of her.

“Sit up on your elbows, Scully,” Mulder instructed, and she did so. He looked at her, to see her licking her lips, and he grinned. “Can you see your cunt?” She nodded, wide-eyed “Are you going to keep your eyes open?” She stared at him, breathing heavily, and nodded again. “Okay, good.”

Mulder leaned his face down toward her hot center, and after taking a deep breath, slowly inched his tongue into her cunt, using a back and forth motion, and twisted his tongue inside her before he pulled back out to breathe. He then returned to form a tight circle around her entrance with his mouth and sucked, pulling her sweet, wet desire out with his tongue

“Fuck, Mulder…” Scully was moaning at the pleasure from his tongue and then started whimpering over her clit, aching with need.

“Tell me,” he said, looking her in the eyes.

She whimpered again. Scully was having an intense inner battle with herself. “You know what I want! Now. Now, now, now, now, now.”

He grinned. “Say ‘please.’”

“Mulder…” Scully groaned.

“Say it.”

“Please,” she whimpered.

He smirked at her mischievously. “’Please,’ what?”

Scully stared daggers at him. “I wish I had brought my gun with me, so I could shoot you again!”

Mulder stared at her in shock. “You left your apartment unarmed?! Are you crazy? Why would you do that?”

“We can talk about that later!”

He returned his tongue to her slit, stroking up and stopping just short of her throbbing bundle of nerves. “I love it when your cunt is swollen and wet for me,” he whispered.

Scully’s hips jerked towards Mulder’s face involuntarily, her nerves desperately seeking friction.

“Tell me.”

“Mulder, I…” she whimpered. She was losing the battle, she could feel it. Or maybe she was winning, she couldn’t tell anymore.

“I don’t know what you want unless you tell me, Scully.”

She was desperately squirming against his firm hold on her and she felt she could sob from need. “Fucking… oh, God… suck my clit, Mulder, make me come! Please!”

He smiled at her. “Hold your legs for me.” Scully then reached down and held her thighs apart. “Can you still see your cunt?” She nodded. “Can you see your clit?” She nodded, starting to pant in anticipation.

He rubbed one finger over her swollen, needy clit, causing her hips to buck. “It’s so hard.”

“Enough with the talking, Mulder. Do it.”

He started laughing. He really had driven her crazy. Then Mulder gripped her eyes with his and stared at her as the tip of his tongue rubbed along the base of her clit.

“Oh, my…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Scully nearly broke into tears of relief, and when she saw Mulder’s lips close around her hard bud, it was the sexiest, most arousing thing she’d ever seen in her life. The sensations of his mouth on her were pure bliss, but nothing compared to the actual visual of seeing her clit sucked between his perfect lips. She felt she could come just from the sight of it.

Scully felt her orgasm just over the ledge after only a few flicks of Mulder’s tongue as he sucked her, she was so close. And when he slipped two fingers inside her, stroking that sweet spot on her front wall, giving two or three more flicks of his tongue, she went off like a bomb.

Her hands let go, as her thighs clamped down against Mulder, clawing and gripping at his bed sheet, her back arching off the mattress. But Mulder didn’t stop, he held her hips tightly with his hands and kept her cunt at his face, stroking his tongue over her clit. Scully tried to get away from him, her nerves in overload. As she reached down to frantically grip his hair, to pull him away from her, another orgasm hit and her legs shook as she moaned and screamed, desperately trying to push herself away from his mouth.

“Mulder, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, I can’t take it!”

He let go, chuckling, and slid up the mattress to lay down next to her, as she laid on her back, glistening with sweat and breathing hard. After a couple minutes, she turned to look at him and she saw his eyes glittering at her with greed and hunger, darkened beyond anything she’d seen before. Scully lunged at Mulder, forcing him onto his back, laying on top of him, and kissed him passionately. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. She then reached down between them and unbuttoned his jeans, taking the zipper down, and started to slide them down his hips, Mulder helping by lifting up off the mattress. Once she’d gotten his jeans, boxer briefs, and socks off, throwing them into a pile on the floor, she straddled him.

Mulder then sat up, holding Scully in his lap. She grinned at him. “I didn’t tell you to do that.”

He smiled, wrapping his arms tighter around her back as her legs wrapped around him. “Nope, no more instructions,” he whispered. “I’m going to make love to you now.”

Scully’s heart swelled at his words and the affection pouring out from his eyes. Mulder gazed into her eyes, searching her face. He saw honesty, loyalty, love and devotion. He lifted her hips slightly, and then slowly lowered her onto his engorged cock. They both sighed with the contact, and held each other tighter.

Mulder captured Scully’s mouth with his, kissing her passionately, as his hands rocked her hips in a steady rhythm up and down, back and forth, stroking his hard cock with her tight cunt.

She broke their kissing and threw her arms around his neck, holding him close and pressing her body into his, one hand gripping his shoulder and the other in his hair, and the side of her face pressed against his, but it wasn’t close enough. She wanted to melt into him until they were the same person.

It didn’t take long before the strokes of Mulder’s cock against Scully’s center soon caused that delicious tension to build once again as her clit started to respond to his ministrations. “Oohh, Mulder…” she moaned into his ear.

He groaned at his name on Scully’s lips in a tone of pleasure, his hands leaving her pelvis and moving up to wrap tightly around her back, pressing her against him. Scully worked her hips over Mulder, seeking the perfect friction and rhythm for her release, her tension soon bursting, and she was coming.

“Oohh… Mulder… you feel so good,” she moaned through her orgasm.

He felt his groin tighten at Scully finally vocalizing her pleasure in coherent words, using his name. His hands went back to her hips and he started quickly rocking them up and down his cock with purpose, Scully meeting his thrusts with her rotating hips to help him along.

“Come, Mulder,” she whispered into his ear.

Her sounds, words, and clenching muscles caused the jolts of pleasure rippling from his balls outward to turn into crashing waves. He wanted to see her. Scully's arms clutched tighter around his neck as Mulder moved his head to look into her face. He looked into the blue of her eyes, their mouths meeting in heavy breaths and their lips in desperate kisses. Mulder then started moaning Scully’s name and his love for her cunt, and after a few more thrusts he came. She felt his cock pulse over and over inside her, as his hot seed filled her.

They sat there on his bed, Scully on his lap and still connected at their joined center, breathing heavily. Mulder then brought his hands up to gently hold her face and gaze intensely in her eyes. She had seen that look before, over a year ago out there in his hallway before that bee had stung her. Mulder then pressed his forehead against Scully’s and closed his eyes. When he opened them a few seconds later, he smiled as he looked into her face.

“What was that?” Scully asked.

“I was praying for a miracle.”

She gave him a small smile. “But I thought you didn’t really believe in God, Mulder.”

“Well… for a long time, I didn’t. That’s true. But I don’t… not believe. I told you not to count God out, remember? So I think the jury’s still out on that one.”

Scully chuckled. “What made you change your mind?”

Mulder gave a slight shrug. “You.”

She smiled.

As he watched Scully fall asleep, the sound of the steady falling rain outside also pulling him under, he wondered if he really needed to ask her if what Padgett had said to him was accurate or way off base. Maybe Mulder already knew the answer, maybe he’d known it a long time.


	40. “We knew each other in school in England. She was brilliant and, uh, I got in over my head and, uh, paid the price.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder feels paranoid. Scully wants some distance. Another flashback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nick Jonas – “Chains”
> 
> With her wine-stained lips, yeah she’s nothing but trouble  
> Cold to the touch but she’s warm as a devil  
> I gave her my heart but she wanted my soul  
> She tasted a break and I can’t get more
> 
> You got me in chains, you got me in chains for your love  
> But I wouldn’t change, no I wouldn’t change this love  
> You got me chains, you got me in chains for your love  
> But I wouldn’t change, no I wouldn’t change this love
> 
> Tryna break the chains but the chains only break me  
> (Hey-ey-ey-ey, hey-ey-ey-ey, hey-ey-ey-ey, hey-ey-ey-ey)  
> Tryna break the chains but the chains only break me
> 
> Alone in the night ‘til she knocks on my door  
> Oh no, wasted again but I can’t say no (no)  
> Baby, tell me why, why you do, do me wrong  
> Baby, tell me why, why you do, do me wrong  
> Gave you my heart but you took my soul
> 
> You got me in chains, you got me in chains for your love  
> But I wouldn’t change, no I wouldn’t change this love  
> You got me chains, you got me in chains for your love  
> But I wouldn’t change, no I wouldn’t change this love
> 
> Tryna break the chains but the chains only break me  
> (Hey-ey-ey-ey, hey-ey-ey-ey, hey-ey-ey-ey, hey-ey-ey-ey)  
> Tryna break the chains but the chains only break me
> 
> Baby, tell me why, why you do, do me wrong  
> Baby, tell me why, why you do, do me wrong  
> Gave you my heart but you took my soul
> 
> You got me in chains, you got me in chains for your love  
> But I wouldn’t change, no I wouldn’t change this love  
> You got me chains, you got me in chains for your love  
> But I wouldn’t change, no I wouldn’t change this love
> 
> Tryna break the chains but the chains only break me

Scully awoke to sounds coming from Mulder’s living room. She turned towards the clock on his bedside table, to see red lights reading 4:18 am glowing back at her in the dark. Mulder was not in the bedroom. She rolled out of bed, grabbed her pajama bottoms and top, quickly threw them on, and left the room. She found the living room in complete disarray: the coffee table and chairs were turned over, the couch had been pushed out from the wall, the lamps were turned over and taken apart, all the panels of the electrical outlets were unscrewed and hanging from the walls. He was standing at his desk, wearing gray sweatpants and a white undershirt, taking his phone and answering machine apart.

“Mulder, what are you doing?” Scully asked, giving him a puzzled expression.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” he said, glancing up to look at her, before returning to the phone.

She stared at him. “Um, I think so, yeah. What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for cameras or microphones.”

She was confused by his response. “Why?”

“In case someone is watching or listening, Scully,” Mulder replied in an obvious tone.

She was again confused, and wondered if this was something he did on a regular basis. “How often do you check your apartment for bugs?”

Mulder hesitated. “Uh… I actually haven’t checked since last winter.”

“Huh. And you suddenly had the desire to get up in the middle of the night and check now?”

Silence filled the living room. “Uh, well, you know… I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep, so… It couldn’t hurt, right? Anyways, now that you’re up, I can go check the bedroom.”

Mulder walked past her without meeting her eyes and walked into the bedroom, leaving Scully standing in the living room, staring at the mess. She wasn’t sure why but Mulder seemed to be in a fit of paranoia, something she hadn’t seen in a very long time. Scully then started to wonder if this was the real reason why they had never gone to Mulder’s apartment to be together. She had offered many times to come to him, feeling bad that they were always at her place and Mulder always had to drive home in the early morning, but Mulder always insisted on her apartment.

His apartment had been put under surveillance before, she knew. But that had been years ago. Scully then suddenly remembered her suspicions back in the spring when Mulder had become ill, that they were being spied on, at least in their basement office. Scully turned her head sharply at the bedroom doorway, her stomach starting to twist into a knot over the idea of someone actually listening to or watching their intimacy.

Mulder soon emerged from the bedroom.

“Did you find anything?” Scully asked nervously.

Mulder shook his head. “No.”

Scully gave a sigh of relief. But as she looked at Mulder she felt something had changed after last night, like some of her walls had unintentionally come down without her realizing, and that she’d opened herself to Mulder in a way she hadn’t planned on. She had a strong desire to leave right away.

“Well, I should go,” she said, walking past Mulder and into the bedroom. She was searching for the rest of her clothes, but could only find her socks. Her lavender cotton underwear had been tossed somewhere in the bedroom, which was now looking like a tornado had gone through it. She'd have to get it later.

Scully walked back out to the living room, sat on the couch, and started putting on her boots.

“Why are you leaving?” Mulder asked, walking over to stand in front of the couch.

She sighed. “Well, I don’t have any clothes here, for one. And Jennifer’s baby shower is later this afternoon, so I’ve got things I need to do to get ready for that.”

Mulder nodded. “So, will I see you tonight?”

Scully hesitated. “Um, I don’t know how long this shower thing is going to last, and then how long I’ll be at my mother’s house helping Jennifer with everything once it’s over. Anyways, I’m sure we both could use the night off. I don’t want you to get sick of me.”

She looked up with an amused expression to see Mulder nodding his head slightly, but then he looked confused. She stood up, grabbing her jacket from the back of the couch, and put it on. She turned to walk towards his door, and after hearing him open a drawer in his desk, he followed her out of the living room.

“I think I can find your front door on my own, Mulder,” she quipped.

He chuckled. “I just wanna walk you out.”

Scully thought he had meant just to his hallway, but he ended up slipping on a pair of sneakers by his door and walking her out to her car. When they reached her driver’s side door, she turned to say goodbye and Mulder placed both hands on the car on either side of her. She felt trapped. He then leaned down to kiss her, but she placed a hand up on his chest.

“Mulder, we’re in public.”

He chuckled. “We’re on a darkened street with nobody around.” He then amusingly leaned back to glance up and down his street, like he was searching for someone, and then smirked at Scully. But she had taken advantage of him leaning away from her, and turned away to open her car door. He sighed as she opened the door and got in the driver’s seat.

He closed the door after her as she started the engine. Scully started to put her seatbelt on when Mulder knocked on her window and motioned for her to put it down. She hesitated, afraid that Mulder would try to lean his head in to kiss her, but she pushed the button to lower the window down all the way. When he leaned down to look at her, she saw he had a very serious expression on his face. He then reached inside his pocket and gave her a small handgun, his side piece that he usually kept strapped to his ankle when in the field.

“Scully, don’t ever leave your apartment unarmed again.”

She sighed, taking the gun. “I know, Mulder. I just had… other things on my mind.”

He nodded his understanding, giving her a small smile. But then his expression was once again serious. “Just don’t do it again.”

Scully swallowed, and nodded, feeling chastised, before putting her window up and driving away towards Georgetown, noticing Mulder in her rearview mirror staring after with furrowed brows.

*****

June 14, 1986

The Oxford graduation ceremony was over and Mulder had returned home to his flat, packing up his clothes and other belongings, after a night out celebrating with some classmates. His flight back to New York City was leaving in the morning, and he’d procrastinated long enough. He needed to have everything packed up and ready to go before 8:00 am.

At just past 11:00 pm, there was a knock on his door. He opened it to see the face of a woman he’d both longed for and dreaded with every fiber of his being, a face he hadn’t seen in a year. Much to Mulder’s dismay, and delight, Phoebe Green was standing there smirking at him. God, he loved her. But he also fucking hated her. His stomach was in tight knots.

“Hello, Mulder.”

At the sound of her voice, he felt rage burning through his gut. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

She gave him a look of disapproval. “Such language, Mulder. Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

He gave her a blank stare. “Is that what you are?”

Phoebe laughed, her brown eyes twinkling at him, and tossed her shoulder-length dark brown hair. “Of course, darling.”

She then pushed past him and into his flat. Mulder noticed she smelled of vodka and cigarettes, a lethal combination that always sent her to his door late at night, well, at least it used to. But that was a while ago now. And a painful memory rushed to the front of his mind, of the last time she’d come to him in such a state. That had been the beginning of the end…

May 11, 1985

He hadn’t spoken to Phoebe in four days. He’d shown up at her graduation earlier that day, but she’d only winked at him across the room at the Sheldonian Theatre. Every time he’d tried to look for her, to talk to her, he couldn’t find her; she’d disappear. Mulder thought she was avoiding him, but he couldn’t figure out why. Not like that was a surprise, he could never figure out the reasons for most things she did.

She’d knocked on his door quite late, after a night out drinking with her friends after her Oxford graduation ceremony. She was now kneeling on the floor, her mouth around his hard cock, bringing him closer and closer to orgasm. But then she stopped, her mouth letting go of him with a loud ‘pop’ sound, and she looked up at him.

“I love you, Mulder. Do you love me?”

Mulder looked down at her hands stroking him, and then looked into her face, her brown eyes shining up at him, her long dark brown hair cascading over her shoulders. “Of course I do, baby.”

“Then why are you leaving for a whole month?”

Mulder gave her a sympathetic smile. “But I’m not leaving for another three weeks. My mother asked me to come home for the summer. I haven’t seen her in almost a year. I didn’t go home for any holidays.”

“But I thought you didn’t want to go home for the holidays. You said you’d rather be here with me.”

He nodded. “That was the truth. But I can’t just never see my mom. She wants to see me.”

Phoebe grasped his cock tighter, stroked him harder. “But I want you to spend the summer with me.”

Mulder gasped, and started panting again. “But I’ll be back at the end of June. We’ll have all of July and August together before classes start. But I guess I could go later in the year, maybe for Thanksgiving. Do you want me to cancel my ticket?”

“Yes.”

Mulder nodded. “Okay, I will.”

Phoebe once again devoured his cock with her mouth. Mulder soon felt his imminent release, and then she stopped and let go of him. Mulder groaned in frustration.

“How much do you love me, Mulder?”

Mulder was breathing hard. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

Phoebe smirked at him. “Do you love me enough to marry me?”

Mulder swallowed. Phoebe knew exactly how he felt about marriage and kids. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t think clearly. A wrong answer would send Phoebe right out the door, and Mulder desperately needed to come. But he spoke the truth, anyways. “I don’t want to ever be married, Phoebe. You know that.”

“But people change their minds all the time, Mulder. Wouldn’t you like being married to me? Wouldn’t you like to live with me?” Phoebe’s hand once again started stroking him.

Mulder groaned. “I… I’d like to live with you, yes. Maybe I’d get you all to myself for once.”

Phoebe smirked at him. “But I promised my father that I’d never live with a man unless we were married.”

Mulder didn’t know what to say to that. He sighed. “I’m never getting married, Phoebe.”

She stared at him hard, and then stood up. “I’m sure you can finish that yourself,” she snapped, before walking out of the living room and out his front door.

Two days later, after much deliberation and soul-searching, Mulder found Phoebe sitting in her favorite café and told her he would marry her. She threw her arms around him and kissed him passionately. Phoebe then took Mulder to a men’s clothing store and bought him a brand new suit. Mulder was shocked that Phoebe wanted to get married right away. He panicked, but then accepted the inevitable. What did it matter whether it was next week or six months from now? He wanted Phoebe badly, wanted to claim her as his own and chain her to him, so that she would stop disappearing on him, so that she would always be there when he wanted her, so that no one else could ever have her, ever take her away from him.

On Friday, May 24th, Mulder was sitting in the Oxford Register Office, dressed in his brand new charcoal gray suit, waiting for Phoebe to arrive and become his wife. He waited, and waited, and waited. She never came. He searched for her everywhere, called her phone, but she was nowhere to be found. Five days later, while Mulder was laying on his bed, drowning in misery, his phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Mulder, my love! How are you?”

He sat up, wiping the tears from his face. “Where the fuck are you?”

“I’m in Greece, darling.”

“Greece?! Why the hell are you in Greece?!”

“Oh, some old friends of mine showed up in town and had an extra ticket for me to go on holiday with them. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. I love Greece.”

Mulder was in dumbfounded shock. “But… we were supposed to get married! I waited and waited for you.”

Phoebe started laughing. “Oh my God! You actually thought I was serious? Mulder, come on. How could you have taken me seriously? I have no intentions of getting married before I’m 30. I thought I’d told you that before.”

Mulder couldn’t wrap his brain around what she was saying. “But… the suit! And the dress! And the license!”

“Oh yeah, well I had to be absolutely sure that you really loved me enough to marry me. And now I know that you do, darling. Anyways, I thought I was only going to stay in Greece for a couple weeks, but we’re thinking of renting a house for the summer. Either way, I’ll see you back in Oxford before your next term starts. When do you leave for the States? Make sure you give my love to your mum.”

Mulder felt blind rage rising up in the pit of his stomach. “I’m not going back to the States, Phoebe. You wanted me to cancel my ticket, remember? So that I could spend the summer with you?”

Phoebe giggled. “Oh, that’s right. You did, didn’t you? Well, I guess you can buy another one. I’ll see you when I get back from Greece, probably some time in August.”

Mulder hurled the phone at the wall, smashing it to pieces. And that was the last time he spoke to Phoebe. She hadn’t shown her face in Oxford after that, she never came back. Mulder eventually heard through mutual friends that she’d gotten a position with Scotland Yard and moved to London.

… June 14, 1986

“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here, Phoebe.”

She grinned at him. “I was in town seeing some friends. How could I leave without seeing you? Impossible!”

“Well, now you saw me. And now you can leave.”

“You don’t really want me to go, do you, Mulder?” Phoebe asked suggestively.

Mulder glared at her.

Phoebe glanced around to see Mulder’s packed bags. “Are you leaving? Where are you going?”

“I’m going home.”

“To America? Why?”

“Because that’s where I live.”

Phoebe chewed her bottom lip. “Did you get accepted to the FBI?”

“Of course,” Mulder replied dryly.

She stared at him. “I can see your arrogance is just as profound as ever.”

“Surprisingly. I guess it was one of the few things you didn’t crush.”

Phoebe laughed. “Don’t be so melodramatic, darling.”

Mulder glared at her. “So how was Greece?”

Phoebe sniffed and averted her eyes. “Greece was wonderful.” But then she turned a challenging look on Mulder. “The men are divine. Greek men are so passionate.”

Mulder felt rage bubbling to the surface. “Congratulations on being the biggest whore in Europe.”

Phoebe took two determined steps forward and slapped him, then threw her arms around Mulder’s neck and kissed him hard on the mouth. Mulder returned her kiss and hurriedly walked her into the bedroom, articles of clothing frantically discarded and thrown to the floor, before throwing her onto the bed.

When Mulder awoke the next morning to his 6:00 am alarm, there was a note from Phoebe on his bedside table.

“Good luck at the FBI. I’m sure you’ll solve all their three-pipe problems.

Phoebe”

Mulder crumpled the note in his hand, misery overcoming him once again.

*****

At 6:30 pm on Saturday, November 13th, the last of the shower guests departed Maggie Scully’s home. A total of 20 people had gathered in her living room for finger foods, cake, silly games, and the opening of gifts. After everyone had left, Scully had helped Jennifer load up the gifts into the trunk and back seat of her car. Once they returned inside, Scully made a big salad for their dinner, and they sat around the kitchen table talking and eating.

“Um, Mom, do you mind if I spend the night?” Scully asked.

Jennifer stared at Scully across the table. Maggie gave her daughter a look of surprise. “Of course I don’t mind. But, uh… is there something wrong, honey?”

Scully looked up from her salad. “Of course not. Why would something be wrong?”

Maggie looked at her contemplatively. “Dana, the only times you’ve spent the night here since med school, that didn’t involve Thanksgiving or Christmas, something was wrong. Has something happened?”

“No, Mom. Nothing. I just don’t feel like driving back to my apartment tonight. I’m tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Jennifer threw a mischievous glance at Scully, but Scully refused to look at her.

Later that night, after Maggie had gone to bed at 9:00, Scully and Jennifer sat on the couch.

“You didn’t have to stay just because I’m staying, Jennifer.”

Jennifer shook her head. “Charlie doesn’t like me driving at night anymore. It makes him nervous. He told me to come home in the morning.”

Scully nodded, and then looked at her hands in her lap.

Jennifer eyed her. “So, uh, what’s going on with Mulder?”

Scully looked up at her sister-in-law. “Nothing.”

“Then why are you here and not at home having hot sex with him?” Jennifer smirked.

Scully sighed. “I don’t know. I freaked out this morning and ran away. But it’s not as though that’s a surprise.”

“What did you freak out about?”

“I’m not really sure,” Scully replied. “I was just… scared, I guess.”

“What are you scared of?” Jennifer asked.

Scully sighed. “Everything? Getting what I want, not getting what I want.”

Jennifer smirked. “And what do you want?”

“I don’t even know anymore,” Scully replied, with a breathy laugh. “I don’t think I can see the forest through the trees.”

Jennifer scooched closer to Scully on the couch, and leaned against her. “This is a job for Melissa.”

Scully laughed. “Yeah.”

Jennifer giggled. “Remember when you were dating that one guy in college, Brendan? But you also liked his friend?”

“Kyle,” Scully replied.

Jennifer kept giggling. “Yeah, that was him. Remember when Melissa brought out her planetary stones and her crystals to help you choose which guy you liked best? And you left the room?”

Scully burst out laughing.

“Maybe you could use some crystals on Mulder,” Jennifer said. “I remember that amethyst attracts the male.”

Scully giggled. “I don’t think attracting him is a problem. Is there a crystal for the opposite?”

Jennifer laughed. “Probably. So you want him to give you some space, huh?”

Scully sighed. “No, not really. It’s not him. It’s me. I hate feeling like I’m losing control over myself. I just think spending some time away from him would be good right now.”

“Hmm…” Jennifer replied. “Sometimes it’s good to lose some control, Dana. Otherwise, how will you truly know what it’s like to feel free?”

“Free?” Scully asked skeptically.

Jennifer nodded. “Yeah. Free to have experiences you’ve never had before, to feel things you’ve never allowed yourself to.”

Scully sighed.

“What do you think Missy would say about you and Mulder?” Jennifer asked.

Scully smiled. “She always liked him. She even said that we were, uh, ‘cosmically connected.’”

“Wow, really?” Jennifer replied. “What is that, like, fate? Or something?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” Scully giggled. “If only she were here. She could bring out her crystals and explain it to us.”

“I bet Missy would wonder why the hell you were sitting on this couch instead of cosmically connecting yourself with Mulder,” Jennifer laughed. She then sighed. “I miss her.”

Scully leaned her head against Jennifer’s shoulder. “Me too.”

*****

Mulder lay down on his couch, with the TV on in the background, staring up at his ceiling and thinking. He didn’t like the way Scully left that morning. Sometimes he felt like they would take two steps forward and then three steps back. She would open up to him, and then close down. He didn’t know what to make of it.

Phoebe had completely mindfucked him. After her, the simplicity of his relationship with Diana was a welcome relief. It wasn’t complicated, it was like every other romantic relationship he’d seen in the movies or read about in books. Clichéd, almost. Diana told him every day, several times a day that she loved him. But looking back, there were little things she said or did that raised small red flags in his mind, which he ignored. She ended up leaving him, too. And now he knew their relationship was most likely a complete sham.

So what did he actually expect from Scully? He didn’t know. He had no idea what her past relationships were like. He didn’t know if she had been closed off to everyone she was ever with, or just especially with him. Maybe that’s just who she was. But her actions left him feeling confused. He could feel her love and affection for him when they were alone, their bodies joined, but at other times she shut him out.

Padgett seemed to think she was in love with him, but outside the bedroom she didn’t really act like it. So was she? Then again, did he even know what it really felt like to be loved? He sometimes felt overwhelmed by powerful emotions when having sex with Scully, but he knew sex and love are two very different things. He had no desire to buy Scully jewelry or dresses or send her a dozen roses. He could imagine her face if he did, and he didn’t think those things would be readily accepted.

Mulder then started panicking, and could feel anxiety flood his stomach. What if she did want those things, but didn’t want to tell him she did? What if she really is in love with him? Would she want him to marry her? He's not cut out to be a husband. What if the next IVF attempt actually worked? And she had a baby? Would she want them to get married? Live together and be a family? What if he's a horrible father? A horrible husband? What if he came home to find her and the kid gone? What if they wound up divorced, like his miserable parents? Or what if he agreed to getting married, but she changed her mind? What if she decided she didn’t really want to marry him? What if he's left there waiting and waiting, but she never showed? But would they even allow it? How could they even get married? What if _they_ started spying on them? It would be too dangerous. Cancer Man could come for her, and take her. Oh, God. What if he took the kid? He could lose Scully, or the kid. It would be just like Samantha all over again. How could he ever live with himself? _  
_

But then the paranoid, anxious thoughts that had been storming in his mind subsided. What was the point in worrying about all that? None of it would most likely happen. He was getting himself worked up for nothing. Did he need to think about what would happen years from now? Mulder never used to. He always lived in the present. He needed to stop dwelling on things that would probably never transpire. This thing with Scully, at the present, was pretty damn good. Why mess it all up with worrying about something as esoteric as love and something as temporary as marriage?

Mulder got up off the couch and went in search of his shoes. He knew Scully said she was busy tonight, but he assumed she'd be home by now. He needed to see her. Suddenly there was a knock at his door, and Mulder glanced at his watch; it was 11:21 pm. He walked over and opened his door to see Scully standing there in black pants and her black jacket.

“Scully! I thought I wasn’t going to see you tonight.”

Scully glanced nervously at her feet, and then pulled Mulder’s handgun out of her coat pocket. “Uh, yeah, I know. But I was driving home from my mother’s house, and I realized I still had your gun. So I thought I’d stop by and return it.”

Mulder grinned at her, taking the gun and holster from her. “But you could’ve given it to me at more convenient time. You didn’t have to bring it over here so late at night.”

“Oh, I know. But I was on my way home, so it wasn’t a big deal.”

He kept grinning at her. “Do you… wanna come in?”

Scully bit her bottom lip, fighting a smile. “Uh… sure.”

Mulder stepped aside and she walked through the door into the apartment. Once he closed and locked the door, setting the gun down on his table, he walked up behind Scully, wrapping his arms around her waist, and then unzipped her jacket.

“You know, Scully,” Mulder whispered. “You don’t need to make up excuses for coming over here.”

Scully blushed as Mulder removed her jacket down her shoulders and off her arms, tossing it over onto the table. He then started walking her toward his bedroom door, unbuttoning and unzipping her pants as he kissed her neck. Scully lifted her arm up to run her fingers through Mulder’s hair. When they reached the door, Scully opened it and they walked across the threshold, Mulder sliding his hand down the front of Scully’s pants and entwining his fingers into her auburn curls.

“What do you want, Scully?” Mulder whispered into her ear.

“I want you to make me come, Mulder.”

He then shut the bedroom door behind them.


	41. “I’m going to ask you to keep an open mind.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some frustration. Mulder gets a phone call from Mrs. Scully. Then he takes advantage of Instant Messenger.
> 
> This chapter contains some sexually explicit material.
> 
> Sorry for the delayed update. I ended up getting really sick with a bad cold over the weekend, and every time I tried to start writing the chapter, I couldn't even keep my eyes open.
> 
> Disclaimer: The premise of the episode "Rush" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depeche Mode – “World in My Eyes”
> 
> Let me take you on a trip  
> Around the world and back  
> And you won't have to move  
> You just sit still
> 
> Now let your mind do the walking  
> And let my body do the talking  
> Let me show you the world in my eyes
> 
> I'll take you to the highest mountain  
> To the depths of the deepest sea  
> And we won't need a map  
> Believe me
> 
> Now let my body do the moving  
> And let my hands do the soothing  
> Let me show you the world in my eyes
> 
> That's all there is  
> Nothing more than you can feel now  
> That's all there is
> 
> Let me put you on a ship  
> On a long, long trip  
> Your lips close to my lips
> 
> All the islands in the ocean  
> All the heavens in motion  
> Let me show you the world in my eyes
> 
> That's all there is  
> Nothing more than you can touch now  
> That's all there is
> 
> Let me show you the world in my eyes

Late on Tuesday afternoon, November 16th, Mulder and Scully had headed back from Pittsfield, Virginia with a closed case. On Monday morning, they’d met Chuck Burks in their basement office and with his help they were able to assign colors to the police video tape of the evidence room. The blur, to Scully’s relief, was not an actual poltergeist, but was a solid figure that cast a shadow and with the help of Chuck Burks, was assigned the familiar Adams High School colors of purple and yellow, like that of the varsity jacket Chastity Raines wore. Chastity Raines’ boyfriend, and Tony Reed’s friend, Max Harden, son of Sheriff Harden was eventually found to be the actual killer of Deputy Ron Foster.

On Monday, he’d also invariably murdered his teacher, Mr. Babbitt, in the middle of the crowded school cafeteria without anyone actually seeing him do it, and then ended up in the hospital with exhaustion and signs of extreme damage to his tissue, including concussions, stress fractures, and even arthritis. Later that day he’d also attacked his father after disappearing from the hospital. Once again, Mulder’s theory was proved true, as Max seemingly had been able to tap into a paranormal ability of super speed supposedly caused by some kind of atmospheric anomaly inside a cave in the woods outside town. In a tragic turn of events, both Max and Chastity were found in the cave on Monday evening, victims of an apparent murder-suicide. And, as per usual, no proof of this anomaly was actually found and the U.S. Geological Survey team didn’t find anything out of the ordinary within the cave, but filled it with concrete anyways “for precautionary reasons.”

Once they reached Alexandria, it was after 6:00 pm and so they stopped for dinner at Ripley’s on Diamond Street, near the river. The bar, situated between a grocery store and a dress shop, had no windows or visible signage from the street, and so it was perfect for Mulder. He also thought it was a perfect place to bring Scully. Scully thought it had a pretty decent menu for a bar.

Once they seated themselves in a small crescent booth in a dark corner in the back, sitting next to each other, Mulder ordered a burger and fries while Scully got her usual veggie basket, a basket of golden fried broccoli, cauliflower, mushrooms, and zucchini with horseradish sauce for dipping. Mulder hadn’t been in a particularly good mood the past couple days, and Scully was thankful the case was over with and that Mulder would no longer have to roam high school hallways alongside obnoxious teenagers.

After they’d finished their meal in mostly comfortable silence, they lingered at the table, in no real hurry to leave. Soon a confusing din filled the bar as other patrons filed in and took up seats at the bar stools and other tables. Mulder slid himself closer to Scully and put his left arm up on the seat behind her. Scully turned to look at him and her eyes met his, gazing moonily at her. His arm bent and he sunk his left hand into her hair, before gently guiding her head forward as his head bent down towards her face.

“Mulder, what are you doing?” Scully demanded, leaning back away from him.

He sighed. “Scully, come on…”

She stared at him. “We are in public, Mulder.”

He was still gazing at her. “We’re in a dimly lit bar. I want to kiss you. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Scully gave him an incredulous look. “Can you not see the bar is full of people around us? Weren’t you the one who was just going on about how important it is for us to keep this a secret? How we can’t even leave our cars parked outside each other’s apartments overnight too often? How dangerous it would be if people found out?”

Mulder sighed, and moved his arm back down from the booth behind her. “Fine.”

A stony, frustrated silence pervaded the table. Then Scully’s cell phone rang.

“Scully.”

“Hi Dana. It’s Latoya.”

“Oh, hi Latoya. How’re you?”

She sighed. “Um, not that great. My husband’s father died this morning unexpectedly.”

“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” said Scully sadly.

“Thanks. We’re going to be leaving tonight for Mississippi and won’t be back until after Thanksgiving.”

“Okay. Do you need me to help you out at Quantico?” Scully asked. Mulder turned to look at her.

“Yeah, that’s why I was calling,” Latoya replied. “I was able to get most of my days covered for the rest of this week, but I’ll need some coverage for next week. Most of the other pathologists are going out of state for the holiday, and I know your family lives in the area. Or, well, unless you were planning on going to San Diego for Thanksgiving?”

“No, no. I’ll be staying around here. What days do you need me to cover?”

“Would you be able to cover my classes on Monday and Tuesday and the office on Wednesday?”

“Sure,” Scully replied. “Not a problem.”

“Thanks, Dana. You’re awesome. But look, if Agent Mulder ends up having a case, don’t hesitate to call George and tell him you can’t cover my duties. He’ll work it out.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks again, Dana,” Latoya said. “I owe you one.”

“Anytime. Tell Derek that I’m so sorry about his dad.”

“He’ll appreciate that. He’s taking it pretty hard. Okay, well I should go and finish packing. I’ll see you when I get back. Maybe we can go out for lunch or something.”

“Sounds good,” Scully replied.

“Okay, bye,” Latoya concluded, before Scully hung up the phone.

She turned to look at Mulder. “I’ll be working at Quantico for a few days next week, Monday through Wednesday.”

He nodded.

“Well, unless we get a case,” Scully added.

Mulder nodded again. “Okay. You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Scully replied. “Listen, you don’t have to drive me all the way back to D.C. I’ll take a taxi.”

He gave her a mildly surprised look. “I don’t mind, Scully.”

“I know, Mulder. But we’re already in Alexandria. I’m not going to make you drive into D.C., and then drive back home. I’ll take a cab, okay?”

He stared at her. “Okay, fine.”

Scully hailed a taxi outside the bar and after a brief tense goodbye to Mulder, hopped in and headed towards headquarters to collect her car from the FBI’s parking garage. On her drive home to Georgetown, she felt confused about what had happened at the bar, why frustration and tension had crept back into their interaction, why she and Mulder were now looking at a night spent apart. A little while later, after showering and changing into casual clothes, she really didn’t want to be sitting around her apartment by herself. So she grabbed her jacket off the coat rack and her purse, went down to her car, and drove back to Alexandria.

*****

As Mulder sat on his couch, he wondered what had happened back at Ripley’s. What was he thinking trying to kiss Scully in a room full of people? Especially a bar that he used to frequent pretty often, a bar where at least one person would be bound to recognize him. At least Trudy didn’t work there anymore and they stopped playing that creepy alien-like background music whenever he walked through the door. Still, it was likely that someone there would know who he was.

Scully had been right. They had just had the conversation again over the weekend, when she’d left her car parked outside his apartment building, about how important it is that they’re careful to not draw undue attention to themselves. And yet, there he was, putting his hand in Scully’s hair, leaning down to kiss her, wanting to thread her hand with his, wanting to tell her how beautiful she was, right in the middle of a crowded bar. What was he thinking?

He hadn’t been thinking. Or, well, all he’d been thinking about was Scully. There were times when he still felt like something was lacking between them. This thing between them was really good, and yet Mulder couldn’t help but think that it could be even better. But how exactly it could, he wasn’t entirely sure. But he did know that he felt palpable disappointment, and increasing frustration, whenever his attempts to show Scully some affection outside the bedroom were firmly rebuffed.

Suddenly there was a knock on his door and Mulder checked his watch; 8:48 pm. He got up and looked through the peephole, then sighed and smiled to himself before opening the door.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” Scully replied, sighing.

Mulder noticed that she had an apologetic air about her, and her eyes looked regretful. “So what brings you down here?”

Scully shrugged. “You.”

He nodded, giving her a half smile. He then watched her step closer towards him in the doorway and raise her arms up slightly to wrap around his waist, hugging his body against hers.

She looked up into his face. “Do you still want to kiss me?”

Mulder smiled down at her. “Always.”

He bent his head down, wrapping his arms around Scully’s shoulders while she lifted herself up on her tip toes, and pressed his lips against hers, kissing her softly. Not long after that, they were in his bed kissing passionately, clothes in a pile on his bedroom floor. Mulder sat up on his knees, spreading his legs, and pulled Scully down towards him, bringing her legs up and over his hips as she lied on her back. He then grasped the base of his hard cock and rubbed its engorged head up and down her wet slit, circling her swollen clit. She squirmed against him, panting.

“Stop teasing me, Mulder.”

He grinned at her. “I’m not teasing. I’m just getting you warmed up.”

“I’m warmed up already. I'm beyond warmed up.”

Mulder laughed. As he slid his erection into her wet, glistening folds, prodding her entrance, the phone rang.

“Don’t you dare answer that,” Scully warned.

He hesitated. “But it could be important. It might be a case.”

Scully glared at him, but Mulder reached over to the bedside table and hit the speaker phone button on the base holding his cordless phone.

“Hello,” he said, smirking down at her icy stare.

“Hi, Fox. It’s Maggie.”

Mulder and Scully stared at each other, eyes wide. He watched her cover her face with her hands, shaking her head. He grinned down at her.

“Uh, hi Mrs. Scully. To what do I owe this pleasure?” While saying these words, Mulder thrust his hard cock into Scully’s cunt, sheathing himself inside her.

Her eyes flew open in shock and she gasped, before covering her mouth with her hand. Mulder brought his forefinger to his mouth, giving her a look of phony admonishment, and motioned her to be quiet. Scully shook her head at him, taking her hand way, and silently mouthed “I’m going to kill you.” His eyes glinted down at her.

“I was wondering if you’d like to come over for Thanksgiving,” Mrs. Scully replied. “I figured you’d be spending the holiday with your own family, but Jennifer suggested that I invite you anyways.”

Mulder watched Scully bring her hand up to cover her face, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

“Uh, well, Mrs. Scully, I had been thinking of going up to Connecticut for Thanksgiving, but those plans weren’t definite,” Mulder replied, slowly sliding his cock out of Scully’s cunt until only the engorged head remained inside, and then forcefully thrusting his length back in. Scully once again stared at Mulder in shock, throwing her hands up to hit him, but he grasped her arms and brought them over her head, holding her wrists tight with his left hand and hovered over her. She struggled to free herself, but it was useless.

“Are you all right, Fox?” Maggie asked.

Mulder smirked down at Scully. “Yeah, I’m good, Mrs. Scully. I’ve, uh, just got you on speaker phone because I kind of got my hands full at the moment.”

She stared daggers at him. Mulder, still holding Scully’s wrists with his left hand, reached his right hand down to rub her clit, causing Scully to gasp and then purse her lips, her facial features contorting and her eyes slamming shut.

“Okay, well we’d really like to have you here for Thanksgiving dinner,” Maggie replied. “Especially Charlie. He said another guy would be sorely needed around the house.”

Mulder chuckled, continuing to slowly thrust his cock in and out of Scully’s wet cunt, circling her clit with his fingers. “Yeah, I’m sure. Well, if I don’t end up going to Connecticut, Mrs. Scully, I’ll definitely take you up on your offer.”

“Okay, great,” Maggie said. “You can just tell Dana if you decide to come or not, and she’ll let me know.”

Mulder watched Scully’s eyes open to look at him, and he grinned down at her. “Okay, I will definitely tell Dana if I’m coming, Mrs. Scully.”

She glared at him, squinting her eyes and shaking her head. Mulder pressed harder on her clit, causing her to gasp again and bite her bottom lip.

“Good,” Maggie replied. “I hope you have a nice night.”

“Oh, I will. Same to you.” Mulder reached over to the base of his cordless phone and pressed the end button.

“You are a sick man!” Scully exclaimed, half-laughing, as he released her wrists, and she started slapping him.

Mulder was laughing. He then reclaimed her wrists and again held them tight with his left hand, holding them above her head, hovering over her, his lips inches from hers, and gazing intensely into her eyes. “You know you love it.”

Scully was breathing hard, her chest heaving under Mulder's restraint. He snaked his right hand between them and resumed his ministrations on her engorged clit as he thrust his hard cock into the tight, wet walls of her cunt until she was moaning beneath him, her clenching muscles and the sound of his name on her lips bringing him to orgasm, and he felt the ecstasy of filling her cunt with copious spurts of his hot seed.

*****

On Sunday, November 21st, Mulder was sitting on Scully’s couch watching the New York Giants at Washington Redskins football game. She was busy with chores around the apartment. Earlier her mother had called her about using her large crockpot for Thanksgiving, and so Scully grabbed a chair from her kitchen table and carried it out to the hallway. She opened the door to her hall closet, and moved the chair to the inside of the doorway. She then stood on her tip toes to reach for the crockpot on the top shelf.

Mulder walked into the hallway to stand next to her. “Scully, why didn’t you just ask me to get it?”

“Because I can get it myself,” she replied, as she grabbed hold of one of the handles.

“Yeah, but it would’ve been so much easier to just ask me for help. Let me get it for you.”

Scully sighed. “Mulder, I’ve got it. I don’t need you to take care of me.”

He stared at her, shaking his head. “Wow. Okay, then.”

As she started to pull the crockpot off the shelf, some bags fell to the floor. Out of a small white and silver gift bag fell a hot pink vibrator. Mulder and Scully froze, staring at it. She pursed her lips, her face reddening. He reached down and picked it up. It was six inches long and about an inch and a half wide. It was also still in its original package and had never been opened.

He looked up at her, still standing on the chair, staring down at him wide-eyed.

“Scully, why…”

“Mulder, I didn’t buy it,” she interrupted him, speaking fast. “It was a gag gift. A friend of mine from Quantico got married a couple years ago, and I went to her bridal shower. And, uh, I was given… that… in the gift bag. I didn’t buy it myself, Mulder.”

He nodded, grinning at her. “That’s not what I was going to ask. Why haven’t you used it?”

Scully opened her mouth to respond but then closed it, her face becoming even redder. Mulder was looking at her expectantly. “I, uh, I guess it just didn’t appeal to me. Those… things… just seem like poor substitutions for the real thing. I have no inclination to use it.”

Mulder nodded, twitching his mouth slightly. He bent over to pick up the gift bag, putting the packaged vibrator inside, along with the other bags that had fallen, and handed them to Scully. She turned to set the bags back on the shelf. Mulder wondered why she’d even bothered keeping the vibrator, if she was so against using it. An idea then briefly floated across his mind. He walked over closer to her, feeling her tense up, and reached up to take the crockpot off the shelf for her. He then carried it into the kitchen, setting it on the table before returning to the living room and football, leaving an embarrassed Scully standing on the chair staring after him.

On Wednesday afternoon, November 24th, Scully was sitting in an office at the Quantico Pathology Department, working on her laptop when the AOL Instant Messenger icon beeped and flashed at her from the lower right corner of her screen. She sighed. Mulder must be bored again. He’d excitedly installed the instant messenger on her laptop on Saturday night, and over the past couple days she’d return from classes to read the various messages he’d sent her about something he’d read in an X-File or some random idea or theory he wanted to talk about.

She opened the message.

[Hey Scully, what are you wearing?]

She rolled her eyes, and started typing.

[A white lab coat, Mulder. I’m busy, and I’m sure there are other things you should be doing.]

He grinned at her reply.

[Come on, Scully. All work and no play makes for a dull basement. You know that. Anyways, I’m always up for abusing FBI resources.]

She chuckled.

[So what else is new? Like last week when you were looking at that site on the office computer. Wait until the IT department catches it. You’re in for it.

Mulder, if there’s something you really want to talk to me about, just call me on the phone. I don’t see the need for playing. Also, I’m busy.]

He rolled his eyes.

[Scully, I was not looking at that site. It came in my email and I accidentally opened it instead of deleting it. And do you know who it is that sends me those emails? The guys in the IT department.

But you know how men love their toys, Scully. This isn’t fun?]

She sighed.

[But why do _we_ have to play with toys, Mulder? What’s so great about chatting through a screen? If there’s something people need to talk about, face to face is best. If that isn’t possible, then listening to each other’s voices is the next best option. I don’t see how words on a screen can have the same effect.]

He chuckled, glad that he’d at least drawn Scully into a debate.

[It’s not about having the same effect. It’s about adding another form of communication to the list.

Besides, toys are fun.]

Scully sighed.

[I don’t see the point, Mulder. This whole online chatting thing is a poor substitute for real communication.

And as for toys being fun, I’m an adult and have had no use for toys since I was a child. I prefer the real thing.]

He rolled his eyes.

[The point is that sometimes it is easier to communicate through the written word. It can be easier to say things that you normally would be embarrassed about or afraid to say in person, or even on the phone.]

Scully felt butterflies fill her stomach. Where was he going with this? Another message appeared on her screen before she could reply.

[Anyways, toys aren’t a substitute for the real thing. They only serve to enhance the real thing.]

She stared at the screen, her face reddening.

[Mulder, what are we talking about?]

He gave the screen a puzzled look.

[What do you mean, Scully? We’re talking about different forms of communication. What do you think we’re talking about?]

She covered her face with her hand, sighing and shaking her head.

Mulder re-read their conversation, realization dawning across his features as his eyes bulged and his eyebrows raised as high as they could go. He waited patiently for her response. The conversation had suddenly turned way more interesting.

[Mulder, I have to go. George is on his way down here to get an autopsy report. I’m spending the night at my mother’s house tonight, so I won’t see you. Are you still coming over for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow?]

He sighed, feeling disappointed. He wanted their chat to continue. It wasn’t likely that he’d get her on this same topic again.

[Yes, Scully. I’ll be there. See you tomorrow.]

The office phone started ringing, and he picked it up.

“Mulder.”

“Goodbye, Mulder,” said Scully. “See? Isn’t my voice better?”

He smiled into the phone, sighing. “Yes, yes it is. Goodbye, Scully.”


	42. “For that I am grateful, more than I could ever express.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully gets an unexpected arrival. Thanksgiving at Mrs. Scully's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah McLachlan – “Fear”
> 
> Morning smiles  
> Like the face of a newborn child  
> Innocent unknowing  
> Winter's end  
> Promises of a long lost friend  
> Speaks to me of comfort
> 
> But I fear  
> I have nothing to give  
> I have so much to lose  
> Here in this lonely place  
> Tangled up in our embrace  
> There's nothing I'd like better than to fall  
> But I fear I have nothing to give
> 
> Wind, in time  
> Rapes the flower trembling on the vine  
> Nothing yields to shelter it  
> From above  
> They say temptation will destroy our love  
> The never ending hunger
> 
> But I fear  
> I have nothing to give  
> I have so much to lose  
> Here in this lonely place  
> Tangled up in our embrace  
> There's nothing I'd like better than to fall
> 
> But I fear  
> I have nothing to give  
> I have so much to lose  
> I have nothing to give  
> We have so much to lose

Thursday morning, November 25th, Thanksgiving, wasn’t shaping up to be a very good one for Scully. She’d awoken in her old bedroom at her mother’s house in Alexandria to the most unexpectedly unwelcome arrival of her menstrual period. Thankfully, after searching through the closet in the upstairs bathroom, she’d found the box of tampons she’d put there over a year ago. At first, this set of circumstances only proved to be mildly annoying. But as she was showering and getting dressed for the day, things like IVF and Dr. Parenti, and Mulder, and the numerous implications this arrival might produce filled her mind like a storm of anxiety.

As she sat on her bed, procrastinating her descent into the kitchen downstairs, her mind raced. Not once since that Sunday afternoon on her couch after the banquet had they discussed anything having to do with Dr. Parenti and IVF attempts. Did she want to try IVF again? Yes, deep down she knew she did. But could she bring herself to broach the subject again with Mulder? Their relationship was not what it had been the first time around.

By asking him again to help her get pregnant, what was she really asking him? To be a parent? How could she ask that of him? And if not, if she was to make it clear that she really just wanted his… donation, would that be insensitive or hurtful? Wouldn’t this just induce uncomfortable conversations about what was going on between them? Did she really want to sit through the “Define the Relationship” talk with Mulder? Wouldn’t this put her in that clichéd nagging-woman position and put Mulder on the defensive? At least one of them would be bound to be misunderstood or, even worse, hurt. Her guts churned just at the thought. She didn’t want to define it. Why did it need a label, or some official status? It was fine just the way it was.

But was it? Really? What does she have with Mulder, exactly? Is this really what she wanted; a never ending pattern of the X-Files and sex, without any progression towards anything else? Couldn’t this eventually turn stagnate as well if there was no change? She still lived alone, technically, even though they spend most nights together. Didn’t she want a home to share? A life to share? Maybe if her heart had chosen someone more… rooted. But she could never ask Mulder to be anything other than who he is, and right now she couldn’t really picture a future where they shared the same home and enjoyed something resembling a normal life. Isn’t that what a child would need? Stability? Constancy? What kind of life could she give a child? Was she herself prepared to leave the X-Files and work with Mulder behind? Could she truly even ask Mulder to put down his life’s work, his life’s purpose, just so she could have a baby? She wasn’t sure if she could.

And what if all that messy, complicated relationship talk stuff was avoided? How would a pregnancy affect their dynamic? Mulder would no longer be her priority; he’d take the back seat. Would Mulder willingly relegate himself? Did she really want him to? This thing between them was so brand new, and they were still learning things about one another. Was she ready for it to change so soon? Is this something they were both even prepared for? Mentally or emotionally? Mulder had rarely, if ever, over the years mentioned any real desire for a family of his own. He was wrapped up in the work. If she did become pregnant, would he suddenly realize that he wasn’t cut out for it? Would he retreat? Return to his solitary existence? She didn’t want to give up what she now had with Mulder. She didn’t want to lose what she’d gained.

As Scully made her way downstairs to join her mother in the kitchen, to start preparing Thanksgiving dinner, she was seriously contemplating keeping the arrival of her menstrual cycle a secret from Mulder and devising ways to keep him at bay until it had passed.

At 11:00 am Charlie, Jennifer, and their boys arrived at the house after driving down from Baltimore. Ben and Jack set up their Nintendo 64 in the living room to play their brand new Donkey Kong video game with Charlie, until 12:30 when the early NFL football game would kick off. Jennifer joined Maggie and Scully in the kitchen where they were preparing pre-Thanksgiving dinner appetizers for lunch. Just after 11:30, Jennifer’s parents, Jim and Meghan, arrived, along with her brother Jamie and sister-in-law Ryan, and their daughter Charlotte.

Jim, Jamie, and Charlotte joined Charlie and the boys in the living room. While Maggie was sitting at the kitchen table talking with Meghan and Ryan, and at the same time spreading the white bean, garlic and rosemary mixture over the toasted baguette slices, Scully and Jennifer were standing over by the stove preparing the apple and butternut squash soup.

Scully glanced over at the table, seeing the other women engrossed in conversation, then turned back to Jennifer and gave her a pinch at her side, keeping her voice low. “Thanks a lot for convincing Mom to invite Mulder.”

“Hey!” Jennifer winced, and then grinned at Scully. “What? You don’t want him here?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. Just the thought of us all here, and then Mulder being here too… it just seems really…”

“Domestic,” Jennifer concluded.

Scully let out a nervous laugh. “Um, maybe. I don’t know how I feel about that. It’s very strange.”

“At least Bill isn’t here,” Jennifer smirked. “Things could’ve gotten really uncomfortable.”

Scully sighed. “Yeah. But maybe if he was, Mulder would’ve stayed away.”

“Well, you’re in a fine mood today,” Jennifer teased.

She sighed again.

Jennifer eyed her. “Has something happened since the last time we talked? Are things not going well between you two?”

“No, no,” Scully replied. “Everything’s the same. Nothing’s happened.”

“Hmm. Then I don't see why you wouldn't want him here. Maybe you two aren’t, uh, ‘comically connecting’ enough,” Jennifer said, winking at her.

Scully stared. “We’re connecting plenty, believe me.”

Jennifer giggled. Scully rolled her eyes and shook her head, smirking at her.

They finished up the soup on the stove and pulled the sausage stuffed mushrooms out of the oven, while Meghan fixed her spinach and artichoke dip and Ryan heated up her crunchy sweet Brussels sprout salad in the microwave, and Maggie began setting the dining room table for Thanksgiving dinner. Just before 12:30, as they started to bring out the appetizers to the large coffee table in the living room, the doorbell rang. Scully stood looking at the door for some seconds and then turned around to walk resolutely back to the kitchen as Charlie went to answer it, Jennifer staring after her with knitted brows.

*****

After Mulder entered the house and shook hands with Charlie and the other guys in the living room, and receiving an especially warm welcome from Charlie’s two boys, he walked into the kitchen to say hello to the ladies of the house. Maggie, Jennifer, Meghan, and Ryan all turned beaming smiles in his direction as he entered the kitchen and the sound of several “Fox!” exclamations greeted him, Jennifer being the only one to address him as “Mulder.”

“Hey,” Scully said to him as she turned from her spot at the counter to look at him, and then quickly turned her back on him to continue peeling potatoes.

“Uh… hey Scully,” Mulder replied, not knowing quite what to make of her demeanor.

He stood there staring at her back, noticing her light blue sweater and dark jeans hugging her figure, until he saw that the other women were eyeing him and glancing between him and Scully. Mulder then turned around after a quick nod of his head in their direction, and went back to the living room. For the next few hours, the guys watched the Dallas Cowboys and Miami Dolphins game in the living room. The kids had quickly lost interest in the television and got out some board games to play on the floor.

Also over the course of the afternoon, Mulder had a distinct sensation of déjà vu, but couldn’t quite place it. He’d get glances of Scully walking between the kitchen and the dining room, and occasionally he’d hear the sound of her voice carry, especially her laugh, which made him smile to himself. But not once did she enter the living room. Towards the end of the game, Mulder could place the déjà vu sensation: it was eerily similar to the morning after Scully learned of the IVF results, the morning after their first night together. Scully was once again spending a lot of time in rooms other than the one he was sitting in. She also hadn’t spoken a word to him other than her brief greeting in the kitchen hours earlier.

Mulder wondered if she was feeling embarrassed about their IM conversation yesterday. It had been innocent enough, but she’d obviously taken a particular meaning from it that he hadn’t intended. He hoped that she didn’t think he was going to push the issue. She obviously wasn’t comfortable talking about it, and Mulder certainly wasn’t going to force her to. He’d have to think of another way to introduce the topic down the road.

“Hey Ryan, can I get a drink?” Jamie called out from the couch.

“Sure you can, sweetie,” Ryan called back. “The refrigerator’s in here.”

Mulder could hear laughter erupt from the kitchen as Jamie sighed and shook his head, getting up off the couch. Mulder chuckled. Once Jamie left the living room, Charlie and Jim started laughing. They too also stood up and went into the kitchen, and soon all three returned with beers in hand. Scully then walked into the living room carrying a beer and handed it to Mulder, before turning a glare in Charlie’s direction.

“Uh, thanks Scully,” Mulder said, before she nodded and walked back into the kitchen.

Charlie looked at his older sister, and then turned to Mulder. “Sorry, man. I should’ve offered.”

Mulder waved his hand. “Not a problem.”

“How do you get such service?” Jamie quipped at him.

Mulder shrugged, grinning as he took a tip of his beer.

“Probably because you ain’t married,” Jamie again quipped.

The other guys laughed, but Mulder didn’t really know how to respond to that.

At 5:00 pm, after Maggie and Scully had inserted two additional leaves into the dining room table, all 12 of the Scullys, Delaneys, and Mulder sat down to Thanksgiving dinner. The table held the large 20-pound turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, and green bean casserole, mashed sweet potatoes with apple butter, cranberry sauce, and yeast rolls. Over on the hutch was a pumpkin pie, apple pie, and cherry pie.

Maggie sat Mulder at one end of the table, with Scully sitting crosswise on his right, and Charlie at the other end. To Mulder’s surprise, everyone reached out to hold hands around the table. He looked down to see Scully holding her open palm towards him, and when he looked to his left, he saw Mrs. Scully doing the same. Mulder reached out and took their hands in his. Charlie then said grace. When he finished, Mulder was again surprised that everyone was still holding hands.

“Okay, I’ll go first,” said Maggie. But then after noticing the slightly puzzled expression on Mulder’s face, she explained. “Let’s all go around and say what we’re especially thankful for this year.”

Mulder nodded. He hadn’t celebrated Thanksgiving since 1990, with Diana and her mother and his parents. What a god-awful day that had been. They certainly hadn’t held hands around the table or spoke of being thankful for anything. In the few years before that, he had usually found ways to prevent having to go with Diana to her mother's house for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Mulder always requested to work the holidays, whether it was at the BSU or a high profile case with Violent Crimes. He then supposed that his last real Thanksgiving had been before his parents’ divorce. In the years since then, the divorce prevented any real family gatherings and when Mulder became an adult, he sought to avoid them as much as possible. Mulder then suddenly realized that at his last real Thanksgiving, Samantha had been present. It had been just a few days before her abduction.

After Maggie spoke of being thankful for her healthy children and grandchildren, plus yet another one on the way, Meghan Delaney went next, and the other family members continued reciting their thankfulness clockwise around the table. At some point, Mulder stopped paying attention and started staring at Scully until her head turned and their eyes locked. Mulder knew exactly what he was thankful for, but he also knew he couldn’t speak it out loud in that room. He then started to softly rub his thumb in circles on the back of her hand. Scully squeezed his hand tighter, gazing at him. A hundred unspoken words passed between them.

Then it was Scully’s turn.

She cleared her throat. “Well, I’m thankful for my health and that I’m another year cancer-free. I’m thankful for my family, which has increased in even greater number this year since I finally have some nieces.”

Jennifer, sitting on Scully’s right, gave her hand a squeeze.

Scully turned to look at her. “I’m thankful for my sister Jennifer and how she always knows exactly what to say when I need to hear it.”

Jennifer smiled, and winked at her.

“I’m thankful for… the amazing things I’ve been able to see and do this year, things I never would have been able to experience if not for Mulder. So… I’m even more thankful to have Mulder in my life, and that he allowed me to go on his journey with him. It, uh, expanded my horizons.”

She gave his hand a squeeze, and he smiled at her. He knew Scully wasn’t one to get sentimental, nor was she one to talk about feelings, but he could read between the lines.

Everyone then turned expectant looks on Mulder, and he froze. He hadn’t thought at all about what he was going to say.

“Um… well, I’m thankful to be alive. There were a few times this year when the chances of that seemed very slim.”

Mulder watched as everyone around the table adopted serious expressions as they looked at him.

“But that’s every year, am I right, Scully?” Mulder quipped.

She smirked at him while the others laughed, and Mulder was grateful to have broken the serious atmosphere.

“Um… I’m thankful for Mrs. Scully and how she always tries to include me in these Scully family gatherings, even though I typically resist.”

More chuckling could be heard around the table as Maggie gave him a big smile.

“And, uh, I’m very thankful for Scully. She’s the reason I’m sitting here, alive. And, uh, she’s the best friend I could’ve ever asked for.”

He turned to see Scully gazing at him, her eyes twinkling. Everyone gave one final squeeze of their hands around the table, Mrs. Scully saying “time for the love squeeze,” and then they started to dig in to the meal. Mulder suddenly felt a lump growing in his throat and he blinked back tears.


	43. “Hey, Scully.” … “Yes?” … “I love you.” … “Oh, brother.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully goes to Mulder's apartment intending to have an important talk.
> 
> Sidenote: I need to give a shout out to Kelly Connolly's The TV Mouse site and her "Times Mulder and Scully Should Have Made Out This Week" blog posts. If you are unfamiliar with what I'm referring to, don't walk, RUN to her website and read them. You'll laugh, you'll cry, but you'll mostly laugh. She's hilarious. Seeing the The X-Files, and particularly Mulder and Scully's relationship, through the eyes of someone watching the series for the very first time warms my shipper heart. It also helps me to see the show through fresh eyes, after having watched the show during the initial airing (many moons ago when I was a teenager), and then countless times on my DVDs since then. Go read and comment on her amazing blog posts!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kate Bush – “The Man with the Child in His Eyes”
> 
> I hear him, before I go to sleep  
> And focus on the day that's been  
> I realise he's there  
> When I turn the light off and turn over
> 
> Nobody knows about my man  
> They think he's lost on some horizon  
> And suddenly I find myself  
> Listening to a man I've never known before  
> Telling me about the sea  
> All his love, 'til eternity
> 
> Ooh, he's here again  
> The man with the child in his eyes  
> Ooh, he's here again  
> The man with the child in his eyes
> 
> He's very understanding  
> And he's so aware of all my situations  
> And when I stay up late  
> He's always waiting, but I feel him hesitate
> 
> Oh, I'm so worried about my love  
> They say, "No, no, it won't last forever"  
> And here I am again, my girl  
> Wondering what on earth I'm doing here  
> Maybe he doesn't love me  
> I just took a trip on my love for him
> 
> Ooh, he's here again  
> The man with the child in his eyes  
> Ooh, he's here again  
> The man with the child in his eyes

At just past 9:00 pm, Mulder departed Mrs. Scully’s house after a brief goodbye with Scully. She could tell that he’d searched her face, as if trying to determine whether he would see her later or not, but he departed the house with a slightly confused expression. Scully knew she’d kept herself unreadable. In all honesty, it was because she didn’t know the answer herself. Should she just go home? It would be fairly easy to stay away from Mulder tonight. But what about the weekend? How could she possibly give a believable reason for why she couldn’t spend the night with him without telling him the truth?

Should she pack a bag and leave town for a few days? No, she couldn’t. Mulder would just wonder why he wasn’t going with her, why she wanted to go away without him. Should she pretend that she’s sick? So she could convince Mulder to stay away from her the whole weekend? As Scully sat in her car in her mother’s driveway, she sighed. She didn’t want to lie. Mulder would see right through it anyways.

The anxiety was eating away at her. Did Mulder really and truly want to father a child? Would he seriously want to trade in the X-Files for bottles and diapers? Scully couldn’t imagine it. She had no idea how she could even ask him to. Although maybe he would, if she did ask him to. He might be willing to do it out of loyalty and obligation. But would he just end up resenting her? What would he even do with himself without the X-Files, without his work? Mulder would be at sea, she knew he would. How could she do that to him?

She’d asked him, earlier in the year just before the onslaught of his illness, what they were even doing anymore with the X-Files, what was the point of it. Mulder had won. He’d beaten them, those men in the dark underbelly of the government who’d performed heinous crimes against innocent people, who’d done their damnedest to make her and Mulder’s life hell. He’d uncovered their secrets, exposed them. And they were now dead and gone, and their conspiracy with them. So what could Mulder still possibly be hoping to accomplish? The one thing he’d set out to accomplish from the very beginning, the one thing he’d bared his soul to her about in that motel room in Oregon over six and a half years ago: he was still looking for his sister.

Deep down, Scully knew that Mulder would never find her. Samantha was most likely dead. Scully knew it. She’d always known it. But she’d never had the heart to voice this out loud. She still didn’t. Scully knew she couldn’t browbeat Mulder into accepting the inevitable; she could never force him to stop looking for his sister. But at the same time, wasn’t it in Mulder’s best interest, in the long run, to let go of this obsession? This was something that had been driving him since he was 12 years old, since those first few weeks after Samantha’s abduction when Mulder rode his bicycle around his neighborhood ringing doorbells and asking everyone if they’d seen her, the weeks he’d spent making “Missing” posters handwritten with a black marker, the weeks he’d spent confused and hurt that his parents didn’t look for her at all. Bill Mulder was cold and stoical, while Teena Mulder had collapsed into herself in grief, like a dying star. In many ways, Mulder was still that 12 year old child, desperately searching for his sister and wondering why no one else was.

Maybe she should just do it; have “The Talk”; just hurry up and get it over with, like ripping off a Band-Aid. If Mulder freaked out and retreated, if things were to return to what they had been before, well it was best it happened right now instead of later on. It’s not like this thing between them was destined to last forever. The end would hurt way more later on. If it happened now, she was almost sure she could survive it. She could chalk this thing between them up to temporary tension relief and lack of impulse control, and they could just pretend like it had never happened. As Scully drove from her mother’s house to the other side of the city, walls of self-preservation were erecting around her heart like a steel fortress.

But how should she even begin this conversation? She knew from experience that starting off important discussions with “We need to talk” assuredly caused the man to feel like he’d done something wrong and put him on the defensive. There are probably few things more gut-wrenching, or more dreadful, than hearing those four words. She’d have to take a different approach. Maybe she should just come right out and tell him that she’s been thinking about trying IVF again, that now with the arrival of her menstrual cycle, she can go for it right away. Mulder would no doubt realize, as she had done, that this would bring singular complications that hadn’t been there the first time. She’d just ask Mulder if he still was willing to donate a sperm sample. With that one simple question, she’d possibly get her answer to so many others.

*****

After a 10 minute drive, that seemed both far too quick and agonizingly slow, she’d arrived at 2630 Hegal Place just past 9:30 pm. As Scully stood in front of his apartment door, listening to the sound of his television and hesitating, she realized that she was about to find out if Mulder loved her, really and truly loved her. Not the love for a replacement sister, which Scully had often felt was the case in the very early years of their partnership, and not the deep love for a dear friend. Real love: the all-consuming, passionate, head over heels, I can’t live without you and I want to be the father of your children, let’s grow old together, LOVE. Scully felt like she was on the verge of hyperventilating.

But Scully braced herself, taking a deep breath, and knocked on the door. After about seven seconds, the door flew open and she had barely registered Mulder’s face before he’d grabbed her and pulled her to him, his lips devouring hers. Her arms reflexively went around his neck, and she returned his kiss as he turned them and walked back inside his apartment, slamming the door shut with his foot.

Scully’s mind went blank, and her reasons for showing up at Mulder’s apartment in the first place suddenly escaped her. Mulder’s lips were soft and firm and warm against hers, and she opened to the gentle prod of his tongue without any hesitation. His lips caressed hers with such knowledgeableness and ease, that Scully could have sworn that their newfound intimacy was something that had been going on for years instead of a few weeks.

Mulder’s tongue slowly unfolded inside her mouth, stroking the skin inside tenderly, firmly brushing against her tongue, caressing it. Scully sighed into his mouth and Mulder held her closer to him. She felt warm sensations of pleasure flowing like waves through every nerve ending in her body as her hands gripped Mulder’s neck tighter. As she started to feel tingling sensations of desire come to life at her center, and felt Mulder’s cock begin to stiffen against her stomach, she pulled away.

“Mulder, wait,” Scully panted, breathing heavily.

“What?” he replied, also breathing hard.

Scully sighed. “Um, I got my period today. I’m sorry.”

Mulder blinked down at her, and then also sighed. “Oh. Scully, why are you apologizing? It’s okay.”

As Scully stood there staring at him, she couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth and say the things she needed to say.

Mulder than grinned at her. “I really shouldn’t be distracted, anyways.”

“Were you working?” Scully asked.

He nodded. “I was about to start, yeah. Tomorrow is quarterly day, remember? Fun times. I was about to review our cases again. Uh, do you wanna spend the night?”

Scully looked at him, feeling mildly surprised. “Wouldn’t it be better if I went home?”

Mulder gave her a puzzled look, and then chuckled. “Why? Because we can’t have sex?”

She didn’t know how to answer. “Um…”

Mulder stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her again, giving her an amused questioning look. “Do you think that’s the only reason I would want you to stay here?”

She felt her face start to redden, and averted her eyes. “Um, no… no, of course not.”

He looked down at her, giving her a half smile before letting go of her. “Hmm.”

Scully hung her coat and purse up on the coat rack by his front door. Mulder then turned to walk into his living room, shutting off the television, and gathered up the X-Files cases on the coffee table as Scully stood in the threshold between his dining and living room. He then walked toward his bedroom door, opening it as Scully followed behind him.

After flipping the switch on the wall to turn on the overhead light, Mulder set the case files on the side of the bed closest to the bedroom door as Scully shut the door behind her. She watched Mulder then move to his dresser to take out a pair of gray flannel pajama bottoms. He stared at his back as he pulled his navy blue long-sleeved shirt and white undershirt off his head, unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pulling them off along with his socks. After tossing them onto the pile he’d created on the floor next to him, Scully continued to gaze at him as he pulled down his black boxer briefs, revealing his firm, round ass. Scully chewed her bottom lip in an effort to stop herself from grinning, as Mulder pulled on the pajama bottoms and opened a drawer to take out a clean white undershirt.

He then bent down and picked up his pile of clothes and walked into the en suite bathroom, depositing them into a laundry basket. Mulder walked back out and around the bed, taking off his watch and placing it on his bedside table. He then looked over at Scully watching him.

“Aren’t you going to get undressed?” he asked.

Scully blinked. “Uh, yeah.”

She’d never really seen Mulder perform his regular night time routine, at least what it had been before this recent development between them. Watching Mulder in his natural habitat was hitting her with too many emotions for her to process at the moment, but she was keenly aware that she was fighting to keep a smile off her face. Scully walked away from the door and removed her black ankle boots, before removing her dark jeans and socks, folding them neatly and placing them on the carpet next to Mulder’s dresser. She then lifted the light blue sweater over her head, and then it too was folded neatly and set on top of her jeans. Scully unhooked the front clasp of her pale pink racerback demi bra and tossed on top of her clothes.

Something suddenly warned Scully that she was being watched, and she turned to see Mulder standing in the bathroom doorway looking at her as she stood there wearing nothing but her heather gray cotton brief panty.

“You’re beautiful,” Mulder said quietly.

Scully snorted, blushing. “Um, thank you.”

She then turned her back on Mulder and opened his dresser drawers in search of a shirt. She took out a gray t-shirt, with “Georgetown” printed across the chest in blue letters. After pulling it over her head and threading her arms through, it fell to the bottom of her thighs. Scully then walked around to the side of the bed closest to the bathroom, turned on the lamp next to the bed, and then turned down the covers, fluffing up the pillows and getting in.

Mulder started emptying his bladder, with the bathroom door still open. Scully rolled her eyes, and sighed. He then stood at his bathroom sink, brushing his teeth.

“Oh, hey Scully…” Mulder called out, raising his voice slightly.

“Yeah?” Scully replied, turning her head in the direction of the bathroom doorway.

“Are you going to call Dr. Parenti?”

Scully froze. Her mind raced. She didn’t know what to say. “Wha… what?”

“Are you going to give Dr. Parenti a call?” Mulder called out from the sink, after spitting out some toothpaste. “You had to wait until your next period to start the IVF cycle again, right?”

She felt her stomach fill with butterflies. What was he saying? She didn’t know how to respond.

Mulder then turned and walked to the bathroom doorway, toothbrush in hand, and stared at her. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

Scully swallowed. She still couldn’t speak.

Mulder eyed her. “You’re not giving up, are you?”

“No,” said Scully quietly, not knowing what else to say.

“Good,” he said, smiling. Then he stuck his toothbrush back in his mouth and returned to the bathroom sink. “So you’ll call him, yeah?”

Scully hesitated. “Yes, I will.”

Scully’s stomach was in knots. What just happened? Were they really just… what did this mean? She supposed skipping over an awkward conversation about their feelings and defining whatever it was that they were was a relief. But didn’t he see how complicated this could make things? Didn’t he say before he’d agreed to it the first time that he was concerned IVF would come between them? And that was when their partnership was much simpler than it is now. But Mulder didn’t seem at all phased by the idea of trying IVF again, nor did he seem concerned that this could potentially cause friction, or something even worse, like separation.

“I put a brand new toothbrush on the sink for you,” Mulder said as he left the bathroom.

“Oh, okay,” Scully said, startled out of her pensiveness. “Uh, thanks.”

She then got out of bed and walked into the bathroom, making a point at shutting the door behind her. Scully emptied her bladder, noting that it was probably a good idea to keep some personal items at Mulder’s apartment now that staying here was becoming a regular thing. But then even that thought caused a certain amount of panic as she walked to the bathroom sink to wash her hands. Would Mulder even want her stuff around his place? Would he think she was imposing, or trying to progress things between them faster than he was ready for? But he seemed to be all gung ho about a baby, so why then would he be apprehensive of her keeping some belongings at his place? _God, this is so fucking confusing._

After washing her hands, she opened the package containing the new toothbrush and dispensed some minty toothpaste onto the bristles. Her mind was in overdrive as she brushed, trying to figure out why Mulder didn’t seem concerned, why calling Dr. Parenti had been his natural reaction and seemingly without any hesitation, why he didn’t seem to think there needed to be a serious conversation about what would be expected of him if a pregnancy actually occurred. Her mind raced.

And then Scully stared at her reflection in the mirror, lowering her toothbrush, her eyes widening slightly. _Does he love me?_

Scully slowly opened the bathroom door, and looked at Mulder sitting up on the other side of the bed. He had his glasses on and he was reading an X-file. She stood there, gazing at him until he turned his head to look at her.

Mulder stared at her, his pupils dilating and his breathing quickening. “You look good in my shirt.”

“I do, huh?” she replied, smirking, getting onto the bed and sitting next to him.

Scully’s eyes then zeroed in on the noticeable bulge in Mulder’s pajama pants.

Mulder sighed. “It’ll go away, Scully.”

“I can help you with that.” She slid closer to him, and started to reach her hand out to stroke him. This was at least something they could do and it would alleviate some her own cravings.

He reached out to hold her wrist. “Scully, no.”

She knitted her brows. “Why, Mulder? We don’t both have to be frustrated.”

Mulder stared at her. “You think it’s fair that you’re the one who would have to go to sleep frustrated? I’d just feel guilty. So, no.”

“You sure can find a reason for guilt in almost anything,” Scully quipped.

He gave her a blank stare, and then dropped the case file on Robert Roberts in her lap. Scully sighed.

“Do you ever wonder if the Bureau gets some kind of sick satisfaction at holding a quarterly after Thanksgiving every single year?” Scully grumbled.

Mulder shrugged. “The quarterly is a pain in the ass no matter on what day it’s held.”

Scully nodded. “Oh, Mulder? Whatever happened to that mysterious waterbed you had?”

He chuckled. “I got rid of it. Too many leaks. I still have no idea where it came from, or that horrid leopard print bedding.”

She made a disgusted face. “Did your mystery benefactor give you anything else?”

“Um…” Mulder chuckled again. “There were mirrors on the ceiling, above the bed. But I took them down.”

“Why?” Scully asked.

“Because they were ridiculous.”

“Hmm,” Scully nodded. But she suddenly envisioned lying on Mulder’s bed, looking up at herself in the mirror while his face was between her legs. She grinned, biting her lip, and felt herself growing warm. “The mirrors might not have been so bad.”

Mulder turned a look of shock on Scully. She giggled, her eyes twinkling at him suggestively.

“You’re not helping me here,” Mulder deadpanned.

She saw that his erection had only dissipated slightly.

“Sorry,” Scully sighed. Then she glanced down at her shirt. “So, uh, Mulder, why do you have a Georgetown University t-shirt? You never went there. And I don’t recall you being a fan of their sports teams.”

“You’re right, Scully. I can’t stand the Hoyas. The t-shirt was a gift.”

Scully nodded. “Did you know someone who went there?”

Mulder hesitated slightly. “Uh, yeah, this girl I dated went to Georgetown Law.”

She turned a surprised smile on Mulder. “I don’t remember ever hearing about this girl.”

He chuckled. “Her name was Trudy and she was a bartender at Ripley’s when she was going to law school.”

“Hmm…,” Scully replied. “And when was this, Mulder?”

Mulder put the case file down on his lap, and thought about it. “Huh, wow… a long time ago. It… was the winter right before you started working with me.”

Scully nodded. “How long did you date her? Was it serious?”

He picked up the X-file and resumed his perusal. “Oh no, we only dated a few times. Three or four, maybe five. Actually, the last time I took her out was about a week or so after you and I got back from Bellefleur, Oregon. So that would’ve been… March 1993.”

Scully gazed at him. “Why didn’t you take her out again?”

Mulder chuckled. “Apparently, she didn’t think our last date went well. I believe I sat through dinner talking nonstop about work and my brand new partner.”

She snorted. “And did you have sex with this girl?”

He nodded, giving her a sideways glance. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

Scully smirked. “And how was it?”

Mulder turned his head, giving her a look of surprise. “I don’t remember.”

She gave him a disbelieving look. “Apparently that photographic memory of yours is also selective.”

“I didn’t say I can’t remember,” Mulder said, grinning. “I said I don’t. If I really thought about it, I could certainly remember it. But I don’t want to.”

Scully smiled, biting her bottom lip to hide it. “Well, at least you got a nice t-shirt out of it.”

Mulder laughed, and then his face took on a look of exasperation. “Scully, it would really help me out if you would cover your legs with the sheet.”

She looked down at herself, and saw the t-shirt had ridden up to her hips and her crotch was exposed. She pulled the top sheet up and over herself. “Sorry.”

They spent the next hour going over the few cases they’d had over the past three months, Scully studying autopsy reports and Mulder discussing his theories. Scully eventually became too tired to read anymore and after setting the files down on the mattress between her and Mulder, she turned to lie on her side, facing the wall, while Mulder continued to work.

Scully drifted in and out of sleep for a while, thinking about Mulder, and IVF, and the future. But she couldn’t grasp her mind on anything clearly. Maybe she’d gotten herself worked up over nothing. She had a strong feeling that Mulder would never retreat from her, no matter what happens in the weeks, months, or years ahead of them.

After some time had passed, Scully blinked herself awake. The lights were still on, but the room was quiet. She could no longer hear the sounds of X-files being studied. She turned to lay on her other side and saw that Mulder was asleep, sitting up, leaning back against the pillow, and still wearing his glasses. Scully sat up and scooched closer to Mulder, until she was almost on his lap. She slowly picked up the X-files off the mattress and leaned over to place them on Mulder’s bedside table. Scully then reached up to gently take off Mulder’s glasses, and after she pulled them away from his face, she leaned across Mulder to set them down on the bedside table on top of the X-files.

When she leaned back, she saw that Mulder had opened his eyes. They gazed at one another. Mulder then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, capturing her lips with his and kissing her slowly, passionately.

Mulder then pulled away, and sighed. “I wish we could fuck.”

“Me too,” Scully said, also sighing. “But it’s only a few days.”

He smiled, brushing her hair from her face and back behind her ear, and giving her another kiss. “I know.”


	44. “You haven’t heard the rumors?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully endure quarterly at the FBI.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ringo Starr – “Whispering Grass (Don’t Tell the Trees)”
> 
> Why do you whisper, green grass?  
> Why tell the trees what ain't so?  
> Whispering grass, the trees don't have to know  
> No, no
> 
> Why tell them all your secrets?  
> Who kissed there long ago?  
> Whispering grass, the trees don't need to know
> 
> Don't you tell it to the breeze  
> 'Cause they will tell the birds and bees  
> And ev'ryone will know  
> Because you told the blabbering trees  
> Yes, you told them once before  
> It's no secret any more
> 
> Why tell them all the old things?  
> They're buried under the snow  
> Whispering grass, don't tell the trees  
> 'Cause the trees don't need to know
> 
> Why tell them all the old things?  
> They're buried under the snow  
> Whispering grass, don't tell the trees  
> 'Cause the trees don't need to know

On Friday, November 26th, as the red light of the digital clock on Mulder’s bedside table shone 4:07 am in the dark, Scully rolled out of bed and tiptoed across the carpet to the bathroom, quietly shutting the door before turning on the light. After emptying her bladder, she realized she had to leave and go home. There were, of course, no tampons at Mulder’s apartment. Scully then tiptoed back across the carpet over to her clothes, folded neatly on the floor next to Mulder’s dresser, and quietly got dressed. Once she opened the bedroom door, she turned and gazed at a sleeping Mulder, and then walked out, closing the bedroom door behind her.

At 4:49 am, a half-asleep Mulder rolled over to wrap his arm around Scully, his hand in search of her breast, but she wasn’t in the bed. He blinked himself awake, and sat up.

“Scully?” he called out, rubbing his hand over his eyes.

Mulder looked over toward the bathroom door, but she wasn’t in there. His eyes then searched for her pile of clothes by his dresser, but they were gone. He walked out to his living room, and then glanced into his kitchen, but no sign of Scully. Her coat and purse were no longer on the coat rack. Mulder sighed, and wondered at what time she’d actually left. He thought of the look on her face when he’d asked her if she’d changed her mind about IVF. She seemed momentarily shell-shocked. Mulder then wondered if he’d pushed her into agreeing to try again, but that couldn’t be right. He knew she really wanted to. Mulder certainly wanted her to. If this time the IVF actually worked, it would be answer to his prayers. A miracle of science was still a miracle, especially in Scully’s unique case.

At 8:12 am, Scully walked through the basement office door to see Mulder in his navy blue suit, sitting at his desk looking into the computer monitor. The X-Files cases they’d reviewed the night before were stacked on the end of the desk.

Mulder looked up at Scully, wearing a black skirt and jacket with an ivory sweater underneath. “What happened to you this morning?”

Scully gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean? I had to get ready for work.”

“Yeah, but I woke up before 5:00 am and you were gone. You could’ve at least said goodbye. Why’d you leave so early?”

Scully shrugged slightly. “I woke up and… just decided to go home.”

Mulder stared at her. “Well, I didn’t like waking up to see you’d disappeared.”

She shook her head and sighed. “Mulder, we shouldn’t really be having this conversation at work.”

“Okay, fine,” he replied tersely, before turning his head back to his email.

Scully sighed again. “I suppose we should head upstairs to Skinner’s office. I know you’ll want to make sure you get your seat in the back.”

“Oh,” Mulder turned quickly to look at her. “It’s not being held in Skinner’s office. They’re having some kind of electrical problem on that floor. So we have to use the CMU conference room on the third floor. And you’re right, I do want a seat in the back.”

Mulder shut off the computer, and grabbed the files off his desk. After closing the office door and locking it behind them, they made their way to the elevator and up to the third floor. Upon exiting the elevator they walked past the open-air office of the Bullpen they used to inhabit when working under Kersh. Two female agents were standing next to the desk of a male agent, chatting with him, and when they saw Mulder and Scully walking by they stared, slightly elbowing each other. Scully saw one of them turn around as if trying to get someone’s attention, and then she had the slightest glimpse of Agent Natalie Black’s face turn in their direction before her and Mulder had cleared the Bullpen area.

As they approached the double doors marked “Crisis Management Unit, CR-3,” they could hear voices inside.

Mulder groaned. “Dammit.”

Scully grinned. “Looks like some eager beavers beat us to the room.”

“I’m not sitting in there with those people any longer than I have to.”

“’Those people?’ You mean your fellow agents, Mulder?”

He pursed his lips at her. “But it’s another 40 minutes until the quarterly starts. Do you think I wanna sit in there and make conversation? Actually, let’s do it. The day’s gonna be shitty anyways. Might as well get it started.”

“Do you want to go back down to the office?” Scully sighed, and then she grinned up at him. “I think Natalie is back in the Bullpen. You could go hang out with her for a while.”

Mulder gave her a blank stare, but then he smirked sarcastically down at her. “No thanks, Scully. I think I’ll pass.”

He then saw a door a bit further down from the CMU conference room doors. “Oh yeah, we can wait in there.”

Scully followed him as he walked down the hallway. Mulder quietly opened the door, allowing Scully to enter first, and then closed it behind him after he stepped inside. They were immediately greeted by several voices in conversation on the other side of the wall. Scully looked around the room, noticing a rectangular table with six leather office chairs, two on each side and one on each end, a large abstract painting of angel fish on the wall. Scully also noticed that the wall ended only part way across the room, leaving an opening as large as a doorway from which the voices were carrying through.

“That leads to the conference room,” Mulder whispered, taking a seat at one of the leather chairs.

Scully sat down on the end, crosswise from Mulder, propping her elbows up on the table. He fought the sudden urge to reach out and hold her hand.

“So what crazy shit do you think the Spookys have in store for us today?” said the voice of a male agent.

Mulder and Scully locked eyes, and rolled them. It was Agent Alan Collins, a man in his early 40’s who had been with the FBI for over 15 years and worked in the Violent Crimes Unit.

“I just hope it’s not more of that alien spaceship stuff,” spoke a female voice, Agent Sarah Brewer. She was young, in her late 20’s and had only been with the FBI for three years, and also worked in the Violent Crimes Unit. “That really bothered me the last time.”

Scully looked down at her entwined hands on the table. _Bothered **her**? Try seeing it with your own eyes._ Mulder gazed at her, wondering what was going through her head.

“It was probably just bullshit anyways,” replied Agent Collins.

“Agent Scully would never lie,” said another male voice, firmly; that of Agent Samuel Cole, Agent Brewer’s partner, and also in his late 20’s.

Mulder smiled at her.

“Please, Sam, she’d lie for Mulder,” replied Agent Michael Chan, Agent Collins' partner. “Like that time she told everyone he’d committed suicide after he killed that DoD operative.”

Scully looked up to meet Mulder’s eyes, and shrugged. Mulder snorted.

“I’m sure there was a good reason for that,” Agent Cole said.

“Why are you defending her?” spoke up another female voice, Agent Josephine Vaughn of the VCU. “She and Spooky are a joke.”

Mulder and Scully gave one another sympathetic smiles.

Agent Brewer laughed. “Because he’s got a big schoolboy crush on her, Jo.”

“Who doesn’t?” Agent Cole retorted. “I mean, do you see the way she just walks down the hallway? Like she’s on her way to kick some serious ass. I mean, my God. I’d let her kick my ass any day. I’d let her do more than that.”

“She won’t need to kick your ass,” Agent Collins quipped. “Because Mulder would shoot you before she’d get the chance.”

Scully rolled her eyes while Mulder raised his eyebrows at her.

Agent Cole laughed. “Whatever. I think maybe I should just ask her out.”

“You have zero chance,” Agent Chan said. “Mulder would never let you near her.”

“And even if Spooky did, she wouldn’t go out with you anyways, Sam,” added Agent Vaughn. “Everybody knows they’re lovers.”

Mulder and Scully averted their eyes, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Scully’s stomach filled with butterflies. Mulder felt himself inwardly cringing at the idea of assigning the title “lovers” to him and Scully.

“Jo, that’s just gossip,” Agent Cole said, sounding slightly exasperated. “Agent Scully doesn’t strike me as someone who would go against the fraternization policy. Besides, everyone knows that Spooky is a fucking stud and that he gets around. He fucked Stacey Palmer, and all the guys know how impossible that is. He also has something going on with that Agent Natalie Somebody who works out there in the Bullpen.”

Mulder rolled his eyes and shook his head, getting increasingly annoyed. Scully sighed.

“No way is that true, Sam,” said Agent Vaughn.

“Mulder and Scully have AD Skinner wrapped around their finger,” added Agent Brewer. “They break FBI policy all the time and nothing ever happens to them. Maybe you’re too busy staring at Scully when she walks down the hallway to notice that Mulder has his hand on her lower back almost the entire time. And what’s with all the close talking? They could easily have private conversations without their faces being three inches apart.”

Scully threw Mulder a puzzled look. Do they really walk around like that at work? Mulder shrugged, chuckling under his breath.

“It is true, Jo,” Agent Cole said resolutely, apparently ignoring his partner. “Well, at least what I said about that Natalie girl is a fact. They were both seen the morning after the banquet at Dunkin’ Donuts and Spooky was still wearing his tux from the night before. They fucked. And word has it they still are.”

Mulder leaned back in his chair, throwing an incredulous look towards the ceiling. Scully just shook her head.

“Nope, no way,” spoke Agent Vaughn firmly. “The Ice Queen would never tolerate that. Remember what went down with her and Spooky’s ex in the hallway upstairs a few months ago? They had a fucking cat fight over him.”

Mulder looked at her in confusion, searching her face to find out if this was true. Scully’s face reddened, remembering her confrontation with Diana after Mulder went missing from the hospital. She knew that she’d pulled Diana into an empty office and confronted her privately. She also knew that what happened was a far cry from the term ‘cat fight.’ Scully rolled her eyes.

“Agent Fowley?” asked Agent Collins. “You know, I don’t think they ever found her killer.”

The room went quiet. Mulder and Scully gazed at one another.

“It was probably the Ice Queen who did it,” laughed Agent Vaughn.

Scully closed her eyes, placing her hand over her face and shaking her head. Mulder felt anger starting to burn through his gut. The sound of the conference room doors opening could then be heard.

“What’s up, gang?” spoke the voice of Agent Max Zukowski, who was in his mid-30’s and had been working with the VCU for two years, ever since he joined the FBI.

“The party can start now that we’re here,” added Agent Lamar Carter, Zukowski’s partner since they both graduated from the Academy together.

“Hey Max! Hey LC!” greeted Agent Brewer. “Nice to see you guys. How’s everything going with the case in New Hampshire?”

“It’s fucking gruesome,” Agent Carter replied. “Let’s not talk about it.”

Mulder and Scully could hear Agents Carter and Zukowski settling into chairs.

“So what are you guys talking about?” enquired Agent Zukowski.

“Mr. and Mrs. Spooky,” replied Agent Brewer.

Scully rolled her eyes. Mulder grinned, remembering the place card from the banquet that was still in his wallet.

“Ahhh, yeeeah,” Agent Zukowski. “I get to sit in a room with Dana Scully all day. I sure hope she’s wearing one of those tight pencil skirts. Speaking of whom, I thought I saw them get off the elevator on this floor while we were in the Bullpen talking with Agent Peterson. I figured they’d be in here.”

“They’re probably in a hall closet screwing,” Agent Vaughn quipped.

Mulder and Scully sighed. Scully wished to God they had just waited in the basement until the last minute, or that Mulder had just resigned himself to walking into the conference room and waiting in there with them. At least they wouldn’t have had to listen to this garbage.

“Would you shut up, Jo?” flared Agent Cole.

Agent Vaughn snickered. “Sam here doesn’t believe Mulder and Scully are a thing.”

“A thing?” asked Agent Zukowski. “Of course they are, Sam. Everyone knows that. It’s been that way for years.”

“If it’s such a well-known fact, why hasn’t Skinner separated them?” Agent Cole asked. “Or OPR? If it became a known fact that Sarah and I were involved, we’d get reassigned immediately. We’re not, by the way. Sarah is happily married now, which everyone knows because she never stops talking about it.”

Agent Brewer laughed. “Shut up, Sam. If you went on a honeymoon to the Maldives, you wouldn’t stop talking about it either.”

“The FBI doesn’t separate them because of their success,” explained Agent Collins. “I mean, look at their numbers, their arrest record. They have one of the highest success rates in the Bureau."

"Sure, the X-Files is a joke around here and there’s no way to climb the ladder out of the basement, but Mulder and Scully have supporters," added Agent Carter. "Skinner, obviously. But you should’ve heard the way some of our Academy instructors went on and on about them at Quantico.”

“Whatever, I think I'm going to ask her out,” Agent Cole replied. “There ain't no gold band on her hand. She’s fair game and in her sexual prime. I'm gonna go for it.”

“You’re a dead man,” Agent Zukowski sighed.

“I’m not afraid of Spooky,” Agent Cole replied.

“You should be, if you know what’s good for you,” said Agent Chan. “There are more powerful people than you at the FBI who are. Why do you think they keep Mulder in the basement?”

Scully and Mulder’s eyes met, and they gazed into each other’s faces.

Agent Vaughn laughed. “Uh, because he’s an embarrassment to the Bureau.”

“No, Agent Vaughn,” Agent Chan said. “They’re scared of him. He’s a threat.”

“A threat?” Agent Vaughn laughed incredulously. “A threat to whom? That’s ridiculous.”

“I don’t know, exactly,” replied Agent Chan, lowering his voice. “But I do know that every month, the Director receives a blue file folder that’s basically a rundown on everything Mulder is up to in the X-Files and that the file folder is marked ‘high priority’.”

“Michael!” Agent Collins snapped at his partner. “I think we should move on to another topic.”

Silence filled the room, and then Agent Vaughn started to ask Agent Brewer about the Maldives while the others discussed the football games from the day before.

Mulder leaned over the table, bringing his head closer to Scully’s, and whispered, “It’s days like today that make me wanna walk right outta here and quit.”

She smirked at him. “So why don’t you?”

“You think I wanna do these people any favors?” Mulder deadpanned, giving her a blank stare.

Scully snorted, shaking her head.

“Maybe we should go find one of those famed hall closets and fuck. They already think we do that kind of thing, anyways. It would sure make my day better, Scully.”

She stared at him, arching an eyebrow, as they heard the conference room’s double doors opening and more agents entering the room. “We should probably head in there. It’s going to start in a few minutes.”

Mulder groaned, and stood up, gathering the X-files off the table. They walked over to the cased opening in the wall and looked into the conference room. The agents inside were looking to the front of the room, and didn’t notice Mulder and Scully quietly walk through and take seats against the back wall. Mulder sat the X-files down on the small circular table between them.

Skinner then entered the room through the double doors, along with executives Frances Martin of the Records Management Division, Tiffany Pineo of the Finance Division, and Marianne Burnell of the Office of Integrity and Compliance. Mulder felt that the fact AD Roberts wasn’t here would be his only silver lining on the day.

Skinner then addressed the room. “Okay, we can get started.”

“Uh, sir,” spoke up Agent Clint Moore of the VCU. “We have to wait for Agents Mulder and Scully, don’t we?”

“What do you mean?” Skinner stared at him, and then nodded towards the back of the room. “They’re already here.”

Everyone turned to see Mulder and Scully sitting against the back wall in the black fabric-covered, square box style conference room chairs, and stared at them.

“When did you come in?” asked Agent Collins, sitting at a desk in the middle of the room with a puzzled expression on his face.

Mulder shrugged. Scully crossed her arms and sighed.

“Huh, kinda spooky,” muttered Agent Vaughn. “Wouldn’t you say?”

Sprinkled laughter could be heard throughout the room, as Mulder and Scully braced themselves for a long day of peer case reviews and budget discussions.

*****

Later that night, Mulder and Scully were sitting on her living room couch, Mulder watching the Washington Wizards basketball game on the television while Scully was reading Muriel Spark’s _The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie_.

“God, the Wizards suck,” sighed Mulder in disgust.

“Then why do you bother watching them?” Scully asked, not looking up.

He turned to look at her. “Because it’s basketball. And because the Knicks aren’t on.”

“Hmm,” Scully replied, engrossed in her book.

Mulder looked at the book cover, and then grinned at her. “You know, Scully, I, uh, heard through the FBI grapevine that you are in your sexual prime.”

She looked up and stared at him, fighting a smile. Then she shook her head and returned to her book.

“And I… am not,” he sighed.

She rolled her eyes.

“I always found it cruel that I sexually peaked while I was a virgin,” he griped.

Scully burst out laughing.

Mulder stared at her, laughing hard and wiping the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, grinning at her. He loved it when she laughed. Soon her laughs subsided and her breathing began to return to normal.

“You know, Mulder, it all depends on how you base your sexual peak. It’s true that at 18, men get the fastest and firmest erections and are better equipped for multiple… performances because of their testosterone levels. But most 18 year olds have no idea what to do with them. The more satisfying sexual experiences happen later in life. You also have to add in variables like hormones, genetics, relationship quality, and other psychological factors, which are completely different for everyone. So if you base your sexual peak on satisfaction, instead of performance, then I’m sure you’ll find that your peak came much later.”

“Yeah, like right now,” Mulder stated matter-of-factly, before turning his attention back to the basketball game. “I guess that’s good news.”

She gazed at him, and felt herself growing warm, her heart swelling.

“How do you go an entire quarter and only score eight points, and allow Charlotte to score 31? Why am I even watching this clusterfuck?”

Scully returned to her book, smiling to herself and blushing.


	45. "I wait for a miracle every day."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully attempts IVF again. Mulder donates another sample, but it turns out he's not as much of a pro as he claimed. Scully experiences a painful blast from the past when Mulder plans something nice for them.
> 
> Longer chapter. Contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulsavers - "Just Try"
> 
> You came to me with open arms  
> To take away my fears  
> I took you in and you stayed a while  
> You live with me right here
> 
> You told me to believe in something  
> Something that’s true  
> Like the mountains and the deep blue oceans  
> So much bigger than you
> 
> He said, just try  
> Come on, just try  
> Lord, just try  
> Just try, just try
> 
> I offered you a place to stay  
> Somewhere to rest your head  
> Lord knows, I need you here  
> There was something you said
> 
> You’ll have to believe in something  
> Something bigger than you  
> Like the great wide open spaces  
> There’s religions too
> 
> You said, just try  
> Come on, just try  
> Lord, just try  
> Just try, just try
> 
> You gave me more than I deserve  
> You gave me peace  
> You gave me everything I love in this world  
> And now I have to sleep  
> Just let me sleep  
> I have to sleep

At 10:45 pm on Sunday night, November 28th, Mulder was lying on his back in Scully’s bed, trying to sleep, but he kept glancing over at his partner lying on her side with her back to him. He knew she was awake. She’d been noticeably quieter all weekend than she’d been Friday night, ever since he’d returned to her apartment early on Saturday evening after spending the day back in Alexandria, taking care of his laundry and paying his bills. Even though Scully had been in a fairly pleasant mood and she’d willingly engaged in conversation when he wanted to discuss something about work or whatever was on the television, there was something going on behind her eyes. Whenever he searched her face, he could tell she was hiding things behind it.

Most of the time Mulder had to fight the urge to force her to talk about whatever was on her mind, but he knew force would get him nowhere. Her silence would only turn to anger, and then he’d really regret attempting to pressure her into opening up. Mulder respected her privacy, not allowing himself to pry. He knew that if it was really important, or if she actually needed his help, eventually she’d tell him whatever it was. Hopefully. The wait could be excruciating, though. Mulder’s intense desire to always help, solve, fix as quickly as possible was not Scully’s way of dealing with things. She took her time to think things through, process her thoughts and emotions, and if he was lucky, she’d actually let him in on what she was working through. Sometimes she did, but most of the time she didn’t.

Scully was a mystery to him. She’d always been. And Mulder was starting to think that maybe this was a big reason why he’d kept himself distant for so long. Unlike the mysteries contained within the X-Files, of unexplained extraterrestrial phenomena and paranormal occurrences that Mulder had firmly believed he would eventually discover the truth about, Scully was a mystery he’d probably never be able to solve completely. She’d always keep him wondering about what was going on inside her head. This had always been kind of intimidating, but since their partnership transitioned into new territory it was becoming more intriguing. Little by little she was opening up her inner self to him, showing him glimpses, sharing stories from her past she’d never spoken of previously, allowing him to see sides to her personality he’d never seen before. The more he learned about her, the more he wanted to know. But he knew he couldn’t coerce her into opening up more, he’d have to be patient. And that was okay, because he wasn’t going anywhere.

He sighed.

“Why aren’t you asleep yet, Mulder?” Scully asked in a tired voice.

“Because you’re not.”

Scully sighed. “I’m sorry. Um… I, uh, called Dr. Parenti on Saturday morning.”

His eyes went wide, and he rolled over onto his side and moved closer to Scully, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her back against him.

“What did he say?” Mulder asked softly in her ear.

“That I can start now,” Scully replied. “That he has a window open early Monday morning if I wanted to go up to his office and start another IVF cycle right away. He said the sooner the better.”

Mulder felt like his stomach was doing somersaults. “And… what did you say?”

“I said okay,” she said after hesitating slightly.

He smiled into Scully’s ear. “Really? That’s great.”

“Yes.”

But Mulder saw her knitted brows. “Then what’s wrong?”

She sighed. “It… it scares me. I want to, but… I don’t know.”

“It scares me too,” Mulder replied. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying. If Dr. Parenti thinks you have a chance, then maybe there’s hope. Have some faith; believe. How will you know if you don’t try?”

Scully smiled, and turned around so that she was facing Mulder, bringing her hand up to gently stroke his face. He leaned in and kissed her, bringing his hand underneath the hem of her white silk pajama top and softly brushing his fingertips against her belly. Mulder then broke their kiss and sighed, pulling his hand away.

“It’s only a couple more days, Mulder,” Scully whispered. “I’ll make it up to you.”

He chuckled. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Scully yawned. “I think I can sleep now.”

“Good,” he said, also yawning. “Me too. Goodnight… lover.”

“Oh, my God, Mulder," Scully giggled. "Would you stop it with that? Don’t make me get my gun.”

He laughed. “Coming from you, that’s a real threat.”

Soon their laughter turned to contented sighs, and then those sighs turned into the slow, deep breathing of peaceful, dreamless sleep.

*****

At 5:00 am on Monday morning, Mulder and Scully awoke to her alarm.

“You can go back to sleep, Mulder,” Scully whispered. “I’m just going to hop in the shower and get ready so I can be at Dr. Parenti’s by 7:00. I’ll see you at the office. I should be able to be there by 8:30.”

Mulder gave her a puzzled look. “What do you mean? I’m coming with you."

Scully stared at him. “Oh. O… okay.”

She walked into the bathroom to start getting ready for the day. She felt excited and anxious, but she still felt scared. She wished she could bring herself to have a real talk with Mulder, lay everything out in the open, and speak plainly of her needs, wishes, and desires for her life. Having a child was a serious decision, not one to be taken lightly. A child would have singular needs, and she wondered if Mulder was prepared for that. But, then again, she hadn’t actually asked him to be a parent nor had he spoken to her of any desire to be one. Maybe she was afraid to find out, and that fear kept her silent.

After 25 minutes in the shower, she stepped out and dried off, before throwing her robe on. She poked her head out through the door into her bedroom. “Shower’s free.”

Mulder got out of bed and walked into the bathroom, removing his gray boxer briefs and stepping into the shower. After about five minutes, he groaned. “Did you have to use all the hot water, Scully?”

Scully, standing by the sink blow drying her hair, didn’t hear him.

Once they dressed, Scully in her black pantsuit and white blouse and Mulder in his casual clothes he’d worn the day before, they took the 30 minute drive to Dr. Parenti’s office in College Park, Maryland, arriving just before 7:00 am. After only a few minutes in the waiting area, they were ushered into Dr. Parenti’s office and sat down in the two beige chairs facing his desk. After another minute or two, Dr. Parenti joined them.

“Nice to see you again,” he said, shaking their hands, and then sitting down. “Okay, well if you’re still on board I want to start right away.”

Scully’s stomach further tightened into knots of anxiety, but she nodded. “Yes.”

Dr. Parenti smiled. “Great. So, beginning today I’m going to start you on a daily treatment of estrogen as well as one injected dose of progesterone a day to strengthen your uterine lining. This time we’ll make it a 12-day treatment instead of 10. I set up an appointment for you with Lifecare Medical Associates in D.C. to have some blood work done later today, just so we can test your other hormone levels. I’m sure they’re fine, but it doesn’t hurt to check.”

Scully nodded.

“This Friday, December 3rd, we’ll have your partner come in to deposit a sperm sample,” Dr. Parenti continued, glancing to Mulder.

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Oh, and remember, no ejaculation for at least three days prior.”

Mulder stared, remembering the instructions Dr. Parenti had given him the first time. He sighed. “I remember.”

Scully shot Mulder a brief sideways glance, her stomach still in knots. Sex was most likely out of the question for the rest of week, at least until Friday night, and it was already almost a week since they’d last had it. This process was suddenly nothing like it had been the first time, going through the initial stages separately. There were so many other factors to think about now, like the different effects IVF would have on the intimacy of their partnership, that hadn’t even been considerations before.

“Then on the 5th, I’ll perform insemination with the most vigorous and healthiest sperm we collect from the sample,” continued Dr. Parenti, before turning to Scully. “I think I’d like to try a blastocyst transfer this time around.”

“What’s that?” Mulder asked.

Dr. Parenti nodded, giving him a small smile. “Within 24 hours after fertilization, embryos begin to cleave, from 2 cells to 4 cells. Then in the next 24 hours, embryos will cleave to 8 cells and so on. When the embryos reach 32 to 64 cells they become blastocysts. At this stage of development different parts of the embryo are visible for the first time. There is a thin layer of cells that encircles a fluid-filled cavity, and a small group of cells called the inner cell mass will eventually develop into the fetus itself. In the early days of fertilization, it is difficult to determine which embryos have the best chance to result in pregnancy. Since many embryos are incapable of developing to blastocysts the ability to culture embryos for a few more days until they reach the blastocyst stage can make the task a lot easier.”

Mulder nodded his comprehension.

“Now, the last time we performed the embryo transfer on the fourth day of fertilization,” continued Dr. Parenti. “But I think I’d like to culture the embryos further to see if any develop into healthy blastocysts. If we have at least one healthy embryo on the sixth day, we’ll perform the blastocyst transfer on December 10th.” Dr. Parenti then looked down at his desk calendar. “After that… I can schedule you to come in on December 22nd so we can give you a pregnancy test.”

Scully could only nod. She felt too many emotions at once, and it was difficult to process the storm of fear, anxiety, excitement, and hope that was raging inside her mind.

*****

Late on Friday afternoon, December 3rd, Mulder and Scully drove from FBI headquarters to Dr. Parenti’s office.

“I still don’t see why I needed to go with you, Mulder,” Scully sighed, as they entered the waiting room. “I would much rather have gone home.”

He grinned. “I told you, it’s a surprise.”

She stared at him. “You know I hate surprises.”

“Yep, I know,” he replied, still grinning.

As Mulder glanced at the clock on the wall, which read 5:52 pm, he approached the receptionist. “Hi, uh, I’m here to deposit a sperm sample.”

A woman in her early 50’s, with graying blond hair, looked up from her computer screen, giving him a warm smile. “Hello there. Sure thing. Name?”

“Fox Mulder.”

She clicked her mouse a few times, looking at the computer monitor. “Okay, got you right here.”

She then stood up from the desk, and walked to a cabinet on the opposite wall, pulling out a plastic cup, and returned to the desk. “Here you go. Now, our apologies, but all the exam rooms are occupied at the moment with patients. Do you mind using a restroom?”

Mulder blinked. “Uh, I don’t think that’s a problem.”

“Okay. Sorry again about the rooms. Fridays are always hectic around here.”

He gave her a small smile. “That’s okay.”

The receptionist then showed Mulder to a unisex restroom in the hallway off the waiting room, and departed back to the desk. He walked into the bathroom, setting the cup on the sink, and stared at it.

She sat in the waiting room, and sighed. What was taking Mulder so long? She glanced at her watch; 6:13 pm. Suddenly her cell phone started ringing.

“Scully.”

“It’s me.”

She let out a breathy laugh. “What are you doing, Mulder?”

“Not a damn thing,” he griped.

Scully sighed. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, uh, I’m having some trouble. Can you, uh, come back here?”

She was speechless.

“Hello? Scully?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I thought you were a pro, Mulder.”

He sighed. “They stuck me in a bathroom, and there are no, uh, items in here for assistance.”

She rolled her eyes. “What about that photographic memory of yours?”

“It’s not working. Would you just get back here? Please?”

Scully gave a breathy laugh of disbelief into the phone, before hanging up. The very idea was so ridiculous to her. Her and Mulder, in a bathroom, at a doctor’s office. She giggled nervously, shaking her head. _Oh well._ She got up from her chair and walked back into the hallway, looking up and down, wondering where Mulder was. Then she saw a door open to her left and Mulder standing there with furrowed brows, looking embarrassed and anxious. He obviously didn’t think it was very funny.

As Scully stepped inside the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her, she had a powerful feeling that’d she been in a similar situation before. Scully didn’t see how that could be possible, but suddenly vivid memories from medical school, of locked rooms at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, rushed to the front of her mind and she had to quickly suppress them before feelings of guilt could blossom in the pit of her stomach. She looked around the stale bathroom, with the white toilet and sink and not much else.

Scully grinned at him. “I’m shocked you couldn’t get into the mood in here, Mulder.”

He sighed, giving her a blank stare.

She moved towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist, and looked at him. “Just so you know, I’m not giving you a blow job next to a toilet.”

Mulder laughed.

Scully felt relieved as the anxiety was erased from his features, and she gazed up at him. “Kiss me.”

Mulder looked down into her eyes, gazing at her, and then brought his hands up to hold her neck, his thumbs caressing the sides of her face. He bent his head to capture her lips with his, kissing her slowly. Scully appreciated his tenderness, but she wanted to get out of this bathroom as soon as possible. She kissed him soundly, and her hands went to Mulder’s suit pants. The belt was already undone, along with his button, and her hand pushed the zipper down as she reached inside his boxer briefs, Mulder’s suit pants falling to his ankles.

Scully stroked his cock until it hardened in her hand, Mulder groaning into her mouth. Then she pulled her hand away after freeing his erection from his boxer briefs. “You do it.”

He stared at her, breathing hard. “What?”

“I want you to do it,” she said, her voice almost purring.

Mulder once again devoured Scully’s lips as he began to stroke his hard cock, and she reached out with her left hand for the cup on the sink. Scully moaned into his mouth, and he broke free of the kiss to breathe. He laid his forehead against hers, panting heavily, as he gripped his cock tighter and stroked faster.

“Scully…” he groaned.

“I want to watch you come, Mulder,” she whispered.

A low, desperate sound escaped his throat, and he gripped her waist with his left arm to maintain his balance as his hand pumped faster along his swollen shaft.

“Fuck, Scully… aahh, fuck,” Mulder panted, feeling the pressure increase.

She made sure she had a firm grasp on the cup with her left hand, thankful that Mulder had already removed the lid before she’d gotten in there, and ran her right hand through his hair, whispering his name into his ear and telling him to come. His legs locked and Scully brought the cup to his erection, tilting it towards the engorged head. He then let out a guttural moan, as his hand stroked his hard cock to orgasm, his seed spilling into the plastic cup. Mulder stood there, panting hard and leaning his forehead against Scully’s.

He looked down at the cup in her hand, as she reached over to place it back on the sink, and saw that some of his ejaculate had gotten onto her thumb. Mulder reached for the tissue box on the sink, but then his eyes widened in shock as she gazed at him, licking her thumb.

“Scully,” Mulder groaned.

"I told you I'd make it up to you," she said, winking.

“You’re going to ruin my surprise.”

Scully gave him a puzzled look. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m now tempted to skip over the preliminaries and just have my way with you as soon as possible,” he grinned, pulling up his boxer briefs.

“There are preliminaries? Mulder, I don’t need to be seduced. I’m a sure thing.”

He laughed. “It has nothing to do with seduction.”

“Hmm, well, I’ll be in the waiting room,” Scully said, before exiting the bathroom as Mulder zipped up his suit pants.

*****

Once Mulder and Scully departed Dr. Parenti’s office on Oakhurst Avenue in College Park, they took a quick five minute drive to the College Park Marriott Hotel and Conference Center on University Boulevard East. After Mulder parked the car, he turned and grinned at Scully.

“Mulder, what are we doing here?” Scully asked, pursing her lips. Why this place? Of all places? She couldn't believe it.

He cleared his throat. “Now, Scully, I believe you said that you would make it up to me.”

She stared at him. “Yes, I did say that.”

Mulder smiled. “Well, this is how you’re gonna start.”

He then got out of the car, walked around to Scully’s side, and opened her door for her. She eyed him suspiciously as she got out, and stood next to the car door. Mulder then held out his hand to her. Scully crossed her arms and stared at him.

“Scully, you’re gonna hold my hand while we walk into the building.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “We’re in public, Mulder.”

He smirked at her. “Dr. Parenti’s office was public.”

“We were in a locked room where no one could see us. People will see us here, Mulder.”

“I’m willing to take that chance,” he replied. “Scully, it’s just for tonight. Humor me.”

Scully sighed, and inserted her small right hand into Mulder’s larger one. As they walked across the parking lot, Scully was trying to beat back the warm, fuzzy feelings that were suddenly swelling in the pit of her stomach while Mulder held her hand in his. It was silly sentimental things like this that would make her fall even more in love with him than she was already. She refused to look over at Mulder, knowing he’d just have some soppy grin on his face.

When they reached the hotel lobby, Scully pulled her hand away but Mulder gripped it tighter. “Nope.”

She sighed.

Mulder followed signs for the conference center through the lobby until they came upon double French doors and a sign for “The Garden.”

Memories started to flood Scully’s brain. “Mulder, why are we here?”

He chuckled. “What do you mean? We’re here to eat dinner.”

“Yeah, but why this place?”

“Because I recall you saying that you love Maryland blue crab, and this restaurant came highly recommended by Chuck.”

Scully stared at him. “I have no recent memory of talking about blue crab.”

Mulder smiled at her. “It wasn’t recent. It was when we were working that case in Braddock Heights, Maryland and the town didn’t really have any decent restaurants.”

“Braddock Heights,” Scully repeated pensively. “Mulder, that was years ago.”

He stared at her. “Yep. May 1996. What’s your point?”

“How could you possibly remember I said that?”

Mulder gave her a surprised look. “I remember everything you say.”

He then opened one of the French doors for Scully, and she walked through. A painful memory was pushing to the front of her mind, and she was desperately trying to suppress it. Mulder walked up to the hostess, as Scully looked around the restaurant. She saw patrons sitting in the familiar Queen Anne-style chairs pulled up to tables draped with white tablecloths, topped with small oil lamps and brass chargers. On one wall she saw the familiar Chinese and Balinese artwork, and noticed the bar that filled one corner of the room. Doors along the opposite side the room led to the Asian garden, with tables that one could sit and dine in nice weather. Scully remembered eating out there in the garden several times over the course of one summer, and then hastily tried to push those memories away.

“Our table won’t be ready for about 10 minutes, but we can wait at the bar,” Mulder said, turning to face her.

“Okay.”

After hanging up their coats, Mulder placed his hand on Scully’s lower back as they walked to the bar, something Scully was growing keenly aware of since those gossiping agents unwittingly brought it to her attention. She now realized that Mulder did this a lot, that he’d actually been doing it for years, and wondered why she’d never really thought too much about it before. Once they reached the bar, and sat up on the stools, Mulder stared down at Scully’s exposed knee as she crossed her legs, and then laid his hand there. Scully stared at him hard, arching her eyebrow, until he removed it, throwing his hands up in surrender. This present scenario felt awfully like a romantic date to her, and a warning siren of self-preservation was sounding off somewhere in the back of her mind.

“What do you want to drink?” Mulder asked her, as the bartender walked over.

Scully twitched her mouth, deciding. “Well, I can’t have alcohol right now. But um… I want something sweet.” She then felt her face reddening a bit. She knew what she wanted, but she felt that ordering it made her sound like such a little girl. _Oh well._ “I’ll take a Shirley Temple.”

The bartender nodded and turned to Mulder, who was smiling at Scully, and then Mulder ordered. “Uh, I’ll have a Coke.”

“Mulder, you don’t have to abstain from alcohol just because I am.”

“I don’t feel like drinking, Scully,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

After the bartender brought them their beverages, Scully eyed her partner. “So, uh, seriously, Mulder. What in the world made you suddenly remember that I had mentioned that I like Maryland blue crab in the spring of 1996?”

He smirked at her. “You didn’t say you liked it. You said you loved it. And I didn’t ‘suddenly remember,’ Scully. It’s just one of the things I know, of all the things you’ve said over the years that are firmly locked inside my brain. I remember everything you’ve said since our very first case. I can remember entire conversations. In fact, I, uh...” Mulder chuckled.

Scully could see him turn slightly red. “What?”

“Well, back when I used to spend my nights alone on my couch,” replied Mulder. “I used to replay our conversations in my head until I fell asleep.”

“Really?” Scully said, smiling affectionately at him despite herself.

Mulder nodded, gazing at her. “Yep.”

After being shown to their table in a quiet corner a few minutes later, with a Chinese landscape painting over their heads, and ordering, their appetizers arrived at the table, the flatbread salad with mixed baby greens and balsamic vinaigrette for Scully and the grilled shrimp for Mulder.

“I’m guessing you’ve probably been here before lots of times,” Mulder said.

Her eyes flew to his, her stomach going in knots. “What makes you say that?”

“Because it’s just down the road from the University of Maryland campus. You must’ve come here when you were college, right?”

Scully sighed, the knots in her stomach loosening slightly. “No, it wasn’t here when I was in college. It didn’t open until after I was in medical school.”

“So, you’ve been here before?” Mulder asked, stabbing a shrimp with his fork.

“Yes,” Scully nodded. “A few times. But that was many years ago.”

Scully desperately wanted to change the subject, and so she asked Mulder what Chuck Burks was up to lately. Conversation about Chuck carried them through to the arrival of their entrees, as their waiter placed the Maryland-style crab cakes in front of Scully and the filet of beef tenderloin in front of Mulder. Scully enjoyed the rest of her dinner in ease and comfortableness, the knots in her stomach having dissipated.

*****

Upon returning to the hotel lobby once they’d finished their meal, Mulder told Scully to wait there while he went out to the car for something. She wondered what he was up to now. To her dismay, he returned with their overnight bags from the trunk of the car.

Scully balked. “Mulder, are we staying here in the hotel?”

“Yeah,” he replied, waggling his eyebrows at her. “It’s a nice surprise, don’t you think?”

Scully’s stomach had once again tightened up into knots, and her fight-or-flight response was going off. “Mulder, we can’t stay here.”

He looked at her, confused. “Why not?”

What was she going to say? “Um… Mulder, we’re in the D.C. area. Someone might recognize us.”

He nodded, winking. “Which is why we’re going to head up to the suite separately.”

“Suite?” Scully said in disbelief.

Mulder grinned. “Yep, I made reservations. You treated me to a suite in Chicago. I’m just returning the favor, Scully.”

She sighed. How could she stay at this hotel? She couldn’t do it. But she knew that the only way she was going to be able to persuade Mulder to leave off this course of action was with the truth. And so her only options were to either confess to him that this Marriott hotel had been a key figure in an adulterous affair she’d once had, or stay the night here with him. She quickly chose the latter.

Mulder allowed Scully to go up to the room first. She walked through the living room area and into the bedroom, which was separated by a privacy wall. After setting her overnight bag down on the bed, and gathering her personal items, she retreated into the bathroom and took a quick shower, making sure not to get her hair wet.

After exiting the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, she walked out to see Mulder sitting in his white undershirt and navy blue boxer briefs on the edge of the bed in the darkened bedroom, staring at his entwined hands. Light filtered in from the opening to the living room area. Mulder looked up and gazed at her, sighing. They hadn’t had sex since last Tuesday, 10 days ago. Scully felt like it had been much longer than that. She walked over to Mulder and stood in front of him, running her hand through his hair. He gazed into her face, lifting up his hands and pulling her towel free. His hands went to her waist, as he ran his eyes over her petite body.

“Scully…,” Mulder breathed, rubbing his hands up and down her sides before bringing them up to gently palm and squeeze her soft, perfectly round breasts.

She could never get over how he spoke her name this way, with more amazement and reverence in his tone of voice than he’d ever used for the most incredible and awe-inspiring things he’d witnessed over the years in their work together.

Mulder pulled Scully closer to him, running his hands along her strong back and then down to her ass, and bent his head down to take one pink nipple into his mouth, stroking it in circles with his tongue. She closed her eyes and sighed. When his teeth grazed over her nipple and then bit gently, she moaned, her hands moving from Mulder’s shoulders to the sides of his face and into his hair, gripping it between her fingers. He began to greedily suck her nipple hard, before moving to her other breast to give this new taut nipple the same attention.

Scully felt a surge of heated excitement at her center, her clit tightening and wet desire flowing out from inside her, and she started to squirm and whimper. His right hand moved up over her hips from her ass, down to her thighs and up between them. She shifted to spread her legs, Mulder grunting in satisfaction against her breast.

Mulder groaned when his hand found Scully’s wetness, his fingers sinking into her folds and gathering her juices forward to circle her swollen clit. She moaned, moving her hands from his hair to grip his shoulders. He then slid his index and middle fingers down to her entrance, and then thrust inside her, hard and to the knuckles.

Scully cried out, fingers digging into Mulder’s shoulders that were still covered by his white undershirt, as jolts of pleasure rippled from her core to her brain. He pulled his fingers out slowly, while taking her other nipple into his mouth and grazing his teeth against it, and then thrust back in even harder while biting down on her nipple.

“Oh, my God,” she cried out again, her eyes slamming shut, and pressed her center against Mulder’s hand as he started to circle her clit with his thumb along with the thrusts of his fingers. Scully’s hips moved with his hand as his mouth moved up her chest from her breasts and to her neck, kissing and stroking his tongue against her skin.

The ministrations of his curled fingers against her sensitive spot inside her front wall and his thumb pressing down on her clit it tight circles soon caused her body to go rigid and she felt that delicious tension heightening toward its plateau.

“Mulder… I’m gonna… I’m gonna,” Scully panted.

“Yes,” he breathed against her neck, picking up the pace.

Her head fell back and she gripped his shoulders even tighter, moaning, “Oohh, there it is.”

Her tension burst, her muscles clenching around his fingers, and she was coming, her load moans filling the bedroom. Mulder held her against him as her waves of pleasure subsided, and her sensitive nerves began to recover. Scully bent her head to kiss him passionately on the mouth, and he began to stand up. He then broke their kiss to quickly remove his undershirt, tossing it to the floor before removing his boxer briefs.

“How do you want it, Mulder?” she whispered, feeling his engorged erection prod her stomach insistently.

He was breathing hard. “How do you want it, Scully?”

She shook her head, grinning at him. “I’m here to make it up to you, remember?”

Mulder threw his arm out to turn down the bed and then picked Scully up, setting her down on the mattress and she scooched backwards to lay her head on a pillow. As he climbed up on the mattress and moved up towards her, she saw his hungry expression and dark eyes, and thought he resembled some large animal about to devour her. Scully's eyes widened and she swallowed, feeling her clit begin to throb once again.

“Tell me how you want it,” she whispered.

“On top,” Mulder panted, moving to hover over her. “Between your legs.”

Scully spread her legs, bending her knees as his hips settled between them as he held himself up by his elbows. He then brought one hand down between them to spread her wet folds, and his hard cock nudged her entrance. She whimpered and pushed back, craving him inside her.

“Scully,” Mulder whispered, his voice again filled with reverence and awe.

He then slowly thrust inside her tight cunt. Her muscles contracted around him, desperate for his thickness, and Mulder groaned. She loved that sound, and clenched her muscles around him again. He gazed down into her face. “Oh, Scully,” he whispered again, pressing his forehead against hers.

He then began to thrust in a strong, steady rhythm and she started moaning. With each thrust, Scully could feel the base of Mulder’s thick shaft rub against her slick, swollen folds, his taut balls beat against her tingling anus, the engorged head of his cock stroke her inner walls, his pelvic bone rub her clit.

Scully then started to rotate her hips to meet Mulder’s thrusts, and soon felt another orgasm surge through her body, her back arched and her hips bucked against him. Mulder heard her moans turn into loud cries and the cries sounded a lot like his name. He started thrusting with increasing urgency, the clenching muscles of her wet cunt urging him on to ecstasy.

Wildly explicit language tumbled out of his mouth as the spark of pleasure issuing out from his balls to his tightening groin became a tidal wave. Scully, as her own high was slowly subsiding, watched Mulder’s face contort as pleasure gripped his features, loud guttural moans escaping his throat, and he was coming, filling her womb with his hot seed.

As she lay on her side, facing Mulder, Scully wondered if she’d ever be able to open up about her past. He was just so… good. Sure, he had a knack for rule-breaking and refusing to go by the book a lot of the time. But there was a reason for that. He hadn’t always been that way. There was a time when he was the perfect boy scout, unfailingly obeying the orders of his superiors and always going by the book. Until, he believed, this cost a fellow agent his life. He had known what the right thing to do was, the course of action he should take, but this wasn’t by the book. He followed the rules, and the agent died. Scully knew that this haunted Mulder.

Since then he allowed his own conscience to be his guide, even if this didn’t go by the book, because he believed that his own innate sense of right and wrong was superior, and in many ways it truly was. Knowing what she knew about Mulder, his goodness, his family and his fears concerning his true progenitor, how could Scully ever tell him that she’d had an affair with a married man? What would he think of her? Wouldn’t he be ashamed of her actions? She knew she was.

Mulder watched Scully as she fell asleep and wondered why she’d looked so panic-stricken when they’d arrived at the hotel, when they stood outside the restaurant, and when he’d told her they were going to stay. As he looked into her face over the course of the evening, he knew she was hiding things behind it. He could only hope that one day these things would no longer be hidden from him. But for now he was perfectly content to spend the weekend locked away in a hotel room with her, praying for a miracle, knowing full well that the FBI and its stress as well as the anxiety of IVF treatment awaited them on Monday morning.


	46. “It’s obvious B.J. and Tillman are having an affair.” … “How do you know?” … “A woman senses these things.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully forces Mulder to leave the hotel sooner than he'd planned. Another flashback.
> 
> Trigger warning: Very brief mention of a sexually violent crime involving a minor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lana Del Rey – “Cola (Pussy)”
> 
> My pussy tastes like Pepsi-Cola  
> My eyes are wide like cherry pies  
> I gots a taste for men who're older  
> It's always been, so it's no surprise
> 
> Ah, he's in the sky with diamonds and he's making me crazy  
> All he wants to do is party with his pretty baby
> 
> Come on, baby, let's ride  
> We can escape to the great sunshine  
> I know your wife, and she wouldn't mind  
> We made it out to the other side  
> Come on, come on  
> Come on, come on  
> Come on, baby
> 
> I fall asleep in an American flag  
> I wear my diamonds on skid row  
> I pledge allegiance to my dad  
> For teaching me everything he knows
> 
> Ah, he's in the sky with diamonds and he's making me crazy  
> All he wants to do is party with his pretty baby
> 
> Come on, baby, let's ride,  
> We can escape to the great sunshine  
> I know your wife, and she wouldn't mind  
> We made it out to the other side
> 
> Drugs suck it up  
> Like vanilla icies  
> Don’t treat me rough  
> Treat me really niceys  
> Decorate my neck  
> Diamantes ices  
> Why, come on, come on  
> Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, yeah
> 
> Come on baby, let’s ride  
> We can escape to the great sunshine  
> I know your wife, and she wouldn’t mind  
> We made it out to the other side
> 
> Come on baby, let’s ride  
> We can escape to the great sunshine  
> We made it out to the other side  
> We made it out to the other side
> 
> Come on, come on  
> Come on, baby
> 
> My pussy tastes like Pepsi-Cola

In the early morning of Saturday, December 4th, Scully awoke in a one bedroom suite at the College Park Marriott Hotel and Conference Center and felt a surge of panic. She had to get out of this place as soon as possible. Scully quietly rolled out of bed, making sure not to wake a sleeping Mulder, and headed into the bathroom to take a shower. Twenty minutes later, she left the bathroom to find that Mulder had woken up.

“Why are you up so early?” he asked groggily, glancing over at the digital clock on the bedside table telling him it was 7:26 am.

“Mulder, we have to go.”

“But I got the room for the whole weekend, Scully.”

She sighed. “I appreciate the gesture, really. But I can’t stay. My medications are at home, the estrogen and progesterone. I have to get back.”

Mulder sat up in bed. “Scully, can’t you just run home and grab what you need, and then come back?”

Scully bent down to take out some clothes from her overnight bag. “I want to go home, Mulder.”

He heard the finality in her tone of voice, and knew that any argument he could possibly think of to change her mind would be pointless. Mulder got out of bed and headed into the bathroom to take a shower. Ten minutes later, Mulder left the bathroom and proceeded to get dressed. After making sure they hadn’t left anything behind in the room, they made their way down the lobby and Scully went outside to wait in Mulder’s car while he checked out at the front desk. Their 30 minute drive back to Georgetown was a silent one.

*****

August 1986

Scully had spent the weekend moving into her new apartment, the off-campus student housing she’d arranged through the Medical Residence Hall of the Johns Hopkins School of Medicine, in East Baltimore, in the Fells Point neighborhood just south of the medical campus. Thankfully, with the help of her parents, Melissa, and the newly-married Charlie and Jennifer, it had only taken one Saturday to move her from her parents’ home in Alexandria. Scully was especially thankful that it had taken just one day, since tensions were currently high in the Scully household.

To Bill Scully Sr’s chagrin, Charlie had married Jennifer just one month after graduating high school. The fight that had erupted in the kitchen when Charlie announced their plans to get married was sure to go down as one of the more legendary ones. Bill Sr accused Charlie of getting Jennifer pregnant, which Charlie adamantly denied. He railed at Charlie for throwing his future away, his chance to make something of himself, to have a successful career and make some decent money, to spend the time needed to become a man before thoughts of settling down entered into the equation.

Charlie railed right back, defending his decision, and made it clear that nothing would ever change his mind. He was going to marry Jennifer. A compromise was reached begrudgingly. Even though Charlie had been accepted to several colleges, albeit not as prestigious as the ones Melissa and Scully had been accepted to, he had planned to skip college and get a full-time job. But if Charlie agreed to attend university and graduate with a degree, Bill Sr would not say a word against Charlie’s decision to get married for the rest of his days. And so on Saturday, July 12th, Charlie and Jennifer were married at St. John’s Church in Alexandria in front of 30 friends and family. Maggie cried through the ceremony, while Bill Sr remained silent and stony.

Bill Sr did not understand Charlie. He was too much like Maggie, which he thought was fine for a woman, but was completely unacceptable for a man. Unlike the other Scully children, Charlie had zero ambition. He had no desire to join the navy like his father and brother. This was not so much of a problem for Bill Sr; he knew the military was not for everyone. But he at least expected Charlie to have some kind of goal for his life, and to work hard towards that goal. What Bill Sr could not accept was that Charlie’s life goal was to simply be a husband and a father. That’s all Charlie really wanted. Maggie understood him. Bill Sr did not.

And so the Scullys, save Bill Jr who was currently at his naval base in Pensacola, spent a rather tense Saturday packing up Scully’s now-former bedroom and moving her into her furnished apartment in Baltimore. Although Bill Sr was proud of his daughter and her choice to pursue medicine, he did not really like the fact that she was moving this far away from him and his watchful eye. He’d managed to keep her living at home all four years of college, but he couldn’t keep her at home any longer. Scully was 22 years old, an adult, and she had things she needed to accomplish. He’d always known he couldn’t keep her at home forever. But Bill Sr did find it reassuring that Charlie and Jennifer had moved to the same city, as they would both be attending the University of Maryland, Baltimore County. On Saturday night, when Maggie and Bill Sr had returned home to Alexandria, without Scully, he broke down and cried.

The following Monday morning, August 11th, Scully arrived at Johns Hopkins medical campus for orientation. She learned that she had been matriculated into the Florence Sabin College, one of four colleges that students were divided into in order to promote mentoring, camaraderie, networking, and professionalism. Scully was then directed to a table where she’d wait to meet her appointed mentor, Dr. Daniel Waterston, one of six faculty advisors for Florence Sabin College. There were four other First Year medical students already sitting at the table, all female.

“Hello, I’m Lalita Chopra,” spoke up a very pretty Indian woman with long black hair held back in a tight ponytail, and reached out to shake Scully’s hand.

“Hi,” Scully replied, shaking her hand. “Dana Scully.”

“Andrea Young,” spoke a gorgeous tall blonde as she shook Scully’s hand, her smiling eyes the deep shade of ocean blue.

“Elizabeth Olschewske,” said the pretty young woman sitting next to Andrea, with auburn hair and brown eyes, shaking Scully’s hand.

“Michelle Kim,” spoke a pretty Korean woman wearing black-rimmed glasses, her shiny black hair falling straight to her shoulders, as she shook Scully’s hand and smiled.

As Scully sat down at the table next to Michelle, two faculty members walked by and halted abruptly as they caught sight of the women sitting together. They then shot each other sideways glances.

“You ladies are waiting for Dr. Waterston, right?” said the woman, with permed shoulder-length brown hair, who looked to be in her early to mid-40’s.

They nodded.  
  
“How’d I guess?” she smirked at her companion, a middle aged man with graying dark brown hair who smirked in return.

They then continued on their way, leaving Scully’s table behind. Scully had no idea what that was about. Nor did it appear that the other women did either. After about 10 minutes, a man approached them wearing a white lab coat. He was tall and handsome, with dark blond hair, and he looked to be about 40 years old.

“Hello,” he greeted them, smiling. “I’m Dr. Daniel Waterston, and I have the privilege of being your faculty advisor for the next four years.”

Scully, along with her table companions, nodded, their eyes widening and stomachs filling with butterflies.

Dr. Waterston laughed. “Don’t be nervous. Even though I’m sure you’re scared shitless. That’s okay, it’s normal. But there’s no reason to be nervous with me. We’re going to get along just fine.”

Some of the women relaxed their posture, but Scully was still a bundle of nerves.

“Now, you are just five of the 20 total students that I mentor, five students from each year,” continued Dr. Waterston. “I will be a very dedicated mentor throughout your entire academic career here at Johns Hopkins, but I give extra special attention to my First Years. I know it can be overwhelming, terrifying even, to think of the daunting task in front of you. But I can guarantee that you will all survive, and receive your M.D. I haven’t lost anyone yet.”

The other women smiled warmly as he winked at them, but Scully only managed a halfhearted one. She thought she was about to throw up.

“Now, in your first year I will be teaching your Foundations of Human Anatomy course, so you will be my students, but that’s only in the first year. Also in your first year I take it upon myself to help you get familiar with the Baltimore community, so that you will soon feel at home here. This is very important due to the stressful, demanding nature of medical school. Over the course of the next four years, even though technically you will no longer be my students once you start Second Year, I will continue to mentor you on an ongoing basis, and we will meet for advisory meetings and even informal get-togethers. Every few months my wife likes to host my group at our home for a nice dinner. It’s her thing. Just go with it.”

The women chuckled, but Scully was too overwrought with anxiety to give much of a response. After ensuring that they had received all the information they needed, including their curriculum, map of the campus as well as asking if they needed any assistance with housing or getting to and from campus, Dr. Waterston departed.

On Wednesday, August 13th, instruction began. By Friday, August 15th, Scully had rushed to a women’s room to throw up no less than three times. She was usually accompanied by Michelle Kim, as the two had become fast friends, who would hold Scully’s long red hair back from her face while her head hung over the toilet. At just past 10:00 am on Saturday morning, August 16th, Scully settled down to study at a table in the East Reading Room at Welch Medical Library along with the other four women she’d met at orientation. Just before noon, three other Johns Hopkins medical students sat down at the table next to them.

“Hi there,” said a good-looking young man with black hair and blue eyes, wearing a pair of blue jeans and a white button down shirt. “I’m James Jakubowski, but you can just call me JJ. This is Nancy Hudson.”

He nodded towards the young woman sitting across from him at the table, with cropped short blond hair, wearing a black and white striped shirt underneath a denim jacket and a knee-length red skirt.

“And this is Leah Smith,” he continued. The woman sitting next to Nancy smiled and nodded, before tucking her shoulder-length light brown hair behind an ear.

“We’re Fourth Years at Hopkins,” JJ said. “You must be First Years, right?”

Scully and her friends nodded, before introducing themselves. Scully felt butterflies fill her stomach at the way JJ smiled at her when she told them her name. She blushed, and forced herself to break eye contact.

“So who did you get for your advisor?” Leah asked them.

“Dr. Waterston,” Lalita answered.

“All five of you?” JJ asked.

They nodded. Scully watched as Leah, Nancy, and JJ exchanged knowing looks.

“So, uh, have you figured out yet which one of you is Daniel’s pet project?” JJ asked.

“You mean Dr. Waterston,” Michelle said, shocked that this student would use Waterston’s first name.

JJ shrugged. “Once you get past first year, he tells everyone to call him Daniel.”

“What do you mean by ‘pet project’?” asked Andrea.

Scully watched JJ, Nancy, and Leah once again exchange glances.

JJ chuckled. “Well, uh, every year Daniel picks out a First Year from his group and gives her, uh, extra mentoring for the year. You know, the after-hours kind.”

Scully was shocked. She hadn’t gotten that kind of impression from Dr. Waterston. He’d certainly been friendly, but he was absolutely professional in the few times she’d interacted with him since orientation. Of course, they were in a classroom at the time.

“Every year?” Michelle asked, also surprised. “So, when the first year is over, and, uh, his pet, moves into Second Year, Dr. Waterston just moves on to someone else?”

“Yeah,” Nancy replied. JJ and Leah nodded in agreement.

Scully wasn’t sure she could believe this. “But he’s married.”

JJ, Leah, and Nancy laughed. “Yeah, and he has a daughter too,” JJ said. “His wife knows. Everyone knows.”

“But why doesn’t she leave him?” Scully asked. She couldn’t picture any scenario in which she herself would tolerate such behavior from her husband.

“Uh, because he’s a rich doctor,” Leah replied, in an obvious tone. “He’s also absolutely brilliant and famous all over the country for his work in cardiology. Being married to him provides a certain status.”

“Being showered in jewelry and trips to the Mediterranean doesn’t hurt either,” Nancy quipped. “But she also knows that he’ll never leave her. These flings are what they are, it’s not like he gets serious with these girls.”

Scully and her friends all looked at each other, wondering if this was really true, wondering which one he’d attempt to make his ‘pet project’ for the year.

November 25, 1986

As Scully’s Foundations of Human Anatomy class came to an end, and she started to make her way out of the classroom, Daniel Waterston stared after her, her long red hair cascading down her departing back.

“Oh, uh, Dana,” he called out to her.

Scully turned around just before she’d reached the door and looked at him, before walking back to the desk at the front of the classroom. “Yes, Dr. Waterston?”

“Um, I’ve been wanting to tell you that I read your Senior Thesis on Einstein’s Twin Paradox,” he said, gazing at her.

“Really?” Scully asked, surprised.

Daniel nodded. “Yes. Frankly, I’m very surprised that someone your age wrote that.”

“Oh. Well… I did,” Scully shrugged.

He grinned at her, nodding. “You know, Dana, you should speak up in class more. I’d like to hear you participating more often. You obviously have a lot to contribute. And I want to know what you’re thinking. Okay?”

Scully smiled, and averted her eyes. “Okay, Dr. Waterston. I will.” She then turned, and started to walk away.

“Oh, Dana,” he said.

She turned back to look at him. “Yes?”

“Enjoy your Thanksgiving break.”

She gave him a half smile. “Thanks, Dr. Waterston.”

Daniel Waterston stared after her until she was no longer in view.

Later that night, Scully and JJ were sitting on her bed watching _Moonlighting_ on her television. Her telephone rang, and she picked up the receiver on her bedside table.  
  
“Hello?”

“Hey Dana, it’s Charlie.”

“Hi Charlie!” she said, smiling wide. JJ turned and after seeing her expression, his brows furrowed.

“We’re still driving down together to Mom and Dad’s tomorrow, right?” Charlie asked.

“Yes, I can meet up with you in the evening,” Scully replied.

JJ stared at her.

Charlie cleared his throat. “Okay. Well, um, there’s something I need to tell you. Something I need to tell Mom and Dad, too.”

Scully felt her stomach go into knots. “What?”

“Well, um, Jennifer is pregnant.”

Scully’s eyes went wide. “Oh, my God. Really?”

“Dad’s gonna go ballistic.”

Scully sighed. “It’ll be okay, Charlie.”

Charlie sighed. “Yeah. Maybe. I’m sure Jennifer will have a lot to talk to you about. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, goodnight Charlie.”

“Goodnight.”

Scully hung up the phone, and turned to see JJ staring at her.

“So who’s Charlie? Your boyfriend?”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “If I had a boyfriend, would I be here with you?”

“You never know with girls these days,” JJ quipped.

Scully smirked at him. “Well, I’m not one of those girls.”

He smiled at her. “I know.”

“Charlie is my little brother.”

“Oh,” JJ chuckled. “So, uh, which one of Daniel’s girls is his pet this year?”

Scully stared at him. JJ obviously had jealousy issues. “Actually, none of us.”

He gave her a look of disbelief. “What do you mean? There always is. Every year. Without fail. I mean, we’re coming up on Thanksgiving break. He’s gotta be fucking one of you by now.”

Scully rolled her eyes. “Well, maybe you were wrong about him. Because there’s nothing going on between any of us and Dr. Waterston. Besides, all of us are seeing someone.”

“That’s never stopped him before,” JJ retorted.

Scully shrugged. “Maybe he just doesn’t like any of us in that way.”

JJ gave her a sarcastic look. “He doesn’t have to like you to fuck you.”

Scully glared at him. “Dr. Waterston is a good guy. And he’s brilliant. He’s a great doctor. I think people should respect him instead of slandering him.”

“Fine,” JJ said tersely. “Let’s just not talk about it anymore.”

“Fine by me.”

Scully wondered how long this thing with JJ was actually going to last. Probably not very.

May 1988

On Friday, May 20th, instruction ended for Second Year Medical Students. At the end of the day, Scully made her way to Daniel Waterston’s office for her end-of-year advisory meeting. She sat in a chair facing his desk, still wearing her white lab coat over the top of her knee-length cobalt blue dress.

“So, Dana, have you given any more thought to your elective clerkship for Years Three and Four?” Daniel asked.

Scully shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She knew which clerkship had interested her the most, but she also knew Dr. Waterston would not approve. And deep down, she desperately needed his approval.

“No, I haven’t decided yet,” Scully replied.

Daniel gave her a hard look. “Dana, you have to stop procrastinating. Your elective clerkship needs to be set up as soon as possible.”

Scully sighed. “Well, uh, I’ve actually been thinking of doing my elective at the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner.”

Daniel balked at her. “In God’s name, what for?”

She averted her eyes. “It interests me.”

He shook his head at her in disbelief. “I think your talents are much better served helping the living instead of studying the dead. What in the world made you think pathology was worth your time?”

Scully thought back to that frigid day in February, when the medical school had held a Career Day. She’d seen an FBI pamphlet on a table in one of the hallways, and was curious about why the FBI would seek out doctors. A representative from Quantico, George Hill, had come to give a presentation at Career Day, and Scully decided to attend. George Hill started off the presentation discussing Quantico, the type of scientific and medical work performed there, its state of the art facilities as well as government benefits and other draws to working for the Justice Department.

George Hill then paused and gave one penetrating look around the room at those present, which admittedly weren’t many. His eyes settled on Scully’s and he proceeded to tell a horrific story of a Rhode Island home invasion several years ago where a woman and her 14 year old daughter were both tied to the mother’s bed and sexually assaulted, and then had their throats cut. There were no prints, no weapons of any kind to be found, no semen or other DNA evidence, and no suspects. The family of the woman and her daughter were facing years of agony, knowing the monster that had done this might never be found. The Rhode Island Medical Examiner, at a loss, sent the bodies to Quantico in desperation. Someone, somewhere, had to find something to solve this case. The entire state of Rhode Island was in mourning. A young pathologist at Quantico, fresh out of medical school, happened upon a previously undetected bite mark underneath the mother’s armpit. This one bite mark led them to the man responsible, an ex-con who’d recently been released from prison. He went to trial, pled guilty, and was sentenced to life in prison without parole. Although nothing could bring back the lives of this woman and her daughter, the family had received justice.

Scully had walked out of that presentation with tears in her eyes and she spent the next week unable to sleep, thinking of nothing but this mother and her daughter. How many more countless innocent victims were out there? Crying out for justice that might never come? All these months later, it still hadn’t left her mind.

“Pathology is important work, too,” Scully replied.

Daniel gave her an exasperated look, and then spoke angrily. “Have you learned nothing from me these past two years? It is the living that needs our help. The dead are beyond our reach. There is nothing more that can be done for them. Your incredible talents are needed to save lives, Dana. Don’t throw them away by poking around corpses."

Scully stared at her hands in her lap, her eyes glistening with tears. The thought of Dr. Waterston being disappointed and angry with her turned her stomach. He was not what JJ and other people around here had said he was. He was not only a brilliant doctor, he was a good man. Not once during her First Year did he make any kind of pass at her, or her fellow mentees. And during Second Year, there was no talk of him adopting a pet from the incoming First Years. In fact, all people seemed to talk about was how shocked they were that Dr. Waterston was suddenly walking the straight and narrow. Scully wasn’t so shocked. They’d probably been wrong all along.

“Well, I haven’t made any kind of final decision,” Scully said, still looking at her lap.

Daniel sighed. “Dana, I’m sorry. Please don’t be upset. It’s just that I can see your potential. You will do great things. I don’t want you steered in the wrong direction. I really shouldn’t say this, but you’re the best student I’ve ever had. Watching you work makes me immensely proud. If you went off into pathology, I’d hate to think of how many lives that will go unsaved because you weren’t available to save them.”

Scully looked up at him, tears now brimming over. They sat there, gazing at each other. Scully saw something come over his face, saw something in his eyes, something like love and affection. Her heart swelled.

Daniel cleared his throat. “Okay, well I think we’re finished here. You obviously have a lot to think about. Just remember that you need to submit your elective clerkship form by your Year Three registration in August.”

Scully nodded, and left his office.

February 23, 1989

Scully was up to her eyeballs with clinical work in two clerkships, her eight-week core clerkship in surgery that began in January at Johns Hopkins Hospital and her elective clerkship in forensic pathology that would span from January to December at the Chief Medical Examiner’s Office.

On the early evening of her 25th birthday, Scully could be found at Johns Hopkins Hospital having a bedside session with a hospital patient post-surgery. Her instructor, Associate Professor of Surgery Dr. Anthony Marsella, was leading the teaching session. At just past 6:30 pm, Scully was heading towards the elevators to make her way out of the hospital, and to Charlie and Jennifer’s apartment where they were throwing her a birthday dinner.

She began making the long walk through the 11th floor corridors, out of the surgical ward and toward the other end of the floor, where she’d find the right elevators to take her down to the 1st floor doors, which let out to the parking lot that held her car. However, the elevator doors had an ‘out of order’ sign which stated to go down to the next floor in order to use them. After going down the stairwell to the 10th floor, she began to walk down the corridor of the cardiovascular unit towards the elevators. While passing through she heard a familiar voice call out to her.

“Dana!”

She turned around and saw Daniel Waterston standing in an office doorway. Butterflies filled her stomach. She hadn’t seen him since before the Christmas break. It had been a tense advisory meeting, and he’d heatedly disapproved of her elective clerkship choice. She’d gotten angry, and walked out of his office without so much as a farewell.

“Hi, Dr. Waterston,” she said.

He grinned at her. “When are you gonna start calling me Daniel? I’m not your professor anymore. Haven’t been for a long time.”

“Yeah, I know,” she replied, blushing, and averted her eyes. After a few seconds of silence, she looked up to see him gazing at her with a sad look on his face.

“I miss you,” he said quietly.

Her mouth fell slightly open, and her breathing quickened. The muscles in the pit of her stomach tightened.

Daniel cleared his throat. “You know, seeing you around the campus. You’re so busy with clinical, you’re never around the school.”

“Yeah,” was all she could manage to say. Something was happening. She didn’t know what. But something.

“Um, so why are you working on your birthday?” Daniel asked, smiling at her.

She chuckled. “Oh, you know, surgery professors don’t really care that you’re turning 25. Wait… how do you know it’s my birthday?”

Daniel shrugged. “I just do. Have you had a chance to do any celebrating?”

Scully gazed at him. “No, not yet.”

He nodded. “I’ve, uh, got an unopened bottle of champagne in my office I’d been saving for a special occasion.”

She blushed. “Um, my birthday isn’t really a special occasion. You should save the champagne."

He gazed at her fixedly. “It is special.”

Scully’s brain was urgently telling her to walk away, to kindly refuse his offer, and leave right now, as quickly as possible. But something else was overpowering her.

“I guess I have some time,” Scully said, still gazing at him.

He smiled. “Good.”

Daniel stepped aside so Scully could walk into his office. He closed the door after he walked back inside. He then walked over to his desk and opened the bottom drawer, pulling out the bottle of champagne and placing it on top of the desk. He looked through his other drawers, in search of something, but then he stood up and sighed.

“I don’t have any glasses,” he said, snorting.

Scully chuckled. “That’s okay.”

They stood there in silence for some seconds, gazing at each other.

Scully twitched her mouth slightly. “Well, thanks for the offer anyways. I guess we can take a rain check. I should get going.”

“Dana, I’m in love with you,” he blurted out suddenly.

Scully’s eyes widened, and she gasped. Daniel slowly walked around his desk and stood in front of her. Scully was breathing heavily. She had to leave right away, before something happened that there was no going back from. Her brain was screaming at her to leave the room immediately. But the heart is treacherous, and it wants what it wants. Scully walked over to the office door, and locked it.

*****

On Saturday night, December 4th, Mulder got into bed at Scully’s apartment and lied down next to her. She’d been quiet all day, ever since they left the hotel. She’d spent a lot of time in her apartment in separate rooms from him. They’d gotten ready for bed in silence, and when Mulder scooched closer to Scully, sliding his hand up underneath her pajama top, she stopped him.

“Not tonight, Mulder.”

He looked at her, searching her face. She was unreadable. He wished she’d tell him whatever was going on inside her head. Something was eating away at her, he knew it, even if he couldn’t see it. Mulder knew that one of the side effects of hormone treatment was depression. Is that what was happening right now? Or was she just anxious over trying IVF again? Did he say or do something the night before that she’d been uncomfortable with? He was trying to remember. He thought he might’ve been rougher than usual, but she didn’t protest and she seemed to enjoy it. He’d be able to tell if she faked anything. Mulder hated her silence, for there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t solve, or fix, if he didn’t know what was wrong.


	47. “There is no right or wrong. Life is just a path. You follow your heart and it will take you where you're supposed to go.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully ponders her choices. Flashback continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lana Del Rey – “Sad Girl”
> 
> Being a mistress on the side  
> It might not appeal to fools like you  
> Creepin’ around on the side  
> Might not be somethin' you would do
> 
> But you haven't seen my man  
> You haven't seen my man  
> You haven't seen my man  
> You haven't seen him
> 
> He's got the fire, and he walks with it  
> He's got the fire, and he talks with it
> 
> His bonnie on the side, bonnie on the side  
> Makes me a sad, sad girl  
> His money on the side, money on the side  
> Makes me a sad, sad girl
> 
> I'm a sad girl, I'm a sad girl, I'm a sad girl  
> I'm a sad girl, I'm a bad girl, I'm a bad girl
> 
> Bein' a bad bitch on the side  
> Might not appeal to fools like you  
> Creepin’ around while he gets high  
> It might not be somethin' you would do
> 
> But you haven't seen my man  
> You haven't seen my man  
> You haven't seen my man  
> You haven't seen him
> 
> He's got the fire, and he walks with it  
> He's got the fire, and he talks with it
> 
> His bonnie on the side, bonnie on the side  
> Makes me a sad, sad girl  
> His money on the side, money on the side  
> Makes me a sad, sad girl
> 
> I'm a sad girl, I'm a sad girl, I'm a sad girl  
> I'm a sad girl, I'm a bad girl, I'm a bad girl
> 
> Watch what you say to me  
> Careful who you're talkin' to  
> Watch what you say to me  
> Careful who you're talkin' to
> 
> I'm on fire, baby, I'm on fire
> 
> He's got the fire, and he walks with it  
> He's got the fire, and he talks with it
> 
> His bonnie on the side, bonnie on the side  
> Makes me a sad, sad girl  
> His money on the side, money on the side  
> Makes me a sad, sad girl
> 
> I'm a sad girl, I'm a sad girl, I'm a sad girl  
> I'm a sad girl, I'm a bad girl, I'm a bad girl

It was after 3:30 am on Sunday, December 5th, when Scully had woken up and was unable to go back to sleep. Mulder was next to her, sleeping soundly on his back. The previous night at the Marriott hotel had forced her to think about things she’d long buried, painful memories she had never wanted to think about for the rest of her life. It was all rushing back to her and her mind was forcing her to relive it all over again, despite how hard she tried to push it away. She had done a terrible thing, and to this day she hadn’t forgiven herself. So much pain and heartache could've been avoided if she’d just refused Daniel’s offer of champagne and left right away. What if she had? What if she’d had the moral fiber to walk away from him? Where would she be now if she’d had more strength of character?

*****

May 1989

On Wednesday, May 24th, Scully sat in the Johns Hopkins Hospital cafeteria with some of her fellow students, her friend Michelle Kim and some Fourth Years. It was the last day of instruction for Fourth Years, but her last day would not be until Friday. Following her two week spring vacation in March, she’d started her core clerkships in neurology and psychiatry. The past eight weeks had been hell. She spent her days and evenings either holed away at Johns Hopkins Hospital, Johns Hopkins Bayview Medical Center, or the Chief Medical Examiner’s Office. Some days she even had to drive down to Annapolis, Maryland to the Anne Arundel Medical Center for neurology practicums. She’d been surviving on four hours of sleep a night.

Chief Medical Examiner Donald Stewart had told her this morning that following Memorial Day he didn’t want to see her come back until after 4th of July weekend, which Scully guessed was out of concern and sympathy. Forensic pathology was surprisingly enjoyable. She found the work fascinating. But this was something she kept mostly to herself, and especially from Daniel. When she discussed her clerkship at the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner, he’d respond with snide remarks. She soon stopped mentioning it.

On top of all this, Jennifer was pregnant again and the baby was due in October. A lot of Scully’s free time had been spent helping out Charlie and Jennifer, either with babysitting or helping them pack up to move to a bigger apartment. To Scully’s pleasant surprise, Jennifer hadn’t dropped out of college when Ben was born two years earlier. She’d faithfully gone to her classes, turned in homework, and took her exams. She’d settled on elementary education as a major, and was determined to graduate and become a teacher.

As Scully sat at the cafeteria table, she caught sight of Daniel walking down the adjoining hallway talking with another doctor. She looked at him. Daniel’s head turned in her direction and they locked eyes, blazing intently for a second before he returned his attention to the doctor at his side, and then Daniel was gone from her view.

“So, uh, has anyone found out who Waterston’s new girl is?” asked Edward Thompson, a Fourth Year.

The others at the table shook their heads. Scully had wondered why rumors of Daniel’s extramarital dalliances had suddenly started up again, seeing as how no one knew about them and they kept their liaisons away from public view.

“What makes you think he even has one?” Scully asked.

“All the tell-tale signs are there,” replied Edward.

Scully had no idea what that meant.

“He’s walking around campus whistling and humming to himself, smiling and winking at people,” explained Timothy Pitt, another Fourth Year. “So the game is up. He’s found himself a new young protégé. But no one can figure out who it is, which is weird.”

Scully swallowed.

“Why is that weird?” asked Michelle, who was sitting next to Scully at the table.

“Because everyone always knows who it is,” Timothy replied. “Don’t they, Sabrina?”

Scully turned to look at Sabrina Lewis, the mixed race woman sitting across from her. She was a Fourth Year, and very pretty, with perfect skin that made her look like she had a perpetual summer tan, long light brown curls, and green eyes.

“Shut the fuck up, Tim,” Sabrina bitterly replied.

Timothy chuckled. Scully felt her stomach tighten into knots. Sabrina… and Daniel? She supposed it must be true. Scully knew now that all that talk about Daniel was, in fact, true. He’d had numerous casual relationships with medical students over the years, and this was something he didn’t try to hide from her. He was very open and honest about it. But Scully also knew that Daniel had loved her a long time, and this had kept him from making advances. Partly because he could tell that she was a strong person who wouldn’t be easily seduced, and partly because he didn’t want something with her to be like his other meaningless flings. Daniel had a strong sense that he would fall hard if he started something with Scully, and this fear held him back. His feelings for her also prevented him from giving other women any consideration.

“What’s even weirder,” added Edward. “Is that it obviously can’t be any of his First Years, unless Waterston has suddenly turned gay.”

The dominant talk at the start of Scully’s Third Year last August was that Daniel Waterston, for the very first time since anyone at the school could remember, had selected five male students to mentor. Not a single pretty girl among them. And this was after going the previous two years without selecting a pet project from among the incoming female medical students he’d chosen to mentor. No one knew what to make of it. They all supposed that Barbara Waterston had finally managed to put him on a tight leash and was making him walk the line. But over the past few months, it had become clear that Dr. Waterston did have something going on with somebody and the more time passed without discovering the identity of this mystery woman, the more curious people became.

“Also, word has it that he’s chosen male students to mentor next year too,” said Timothy.

Scully felt pleasant butterflies fill her stomach and she had to fight hard to stop herself from smiling.

Michelle sighed. “Maybe it’s not a medical student at all. Maybe he’s met someone who has absolutely no affiliation with Hopkins. That would explain why no one has any idea who it is.”

“Hmm,” Edward replied. “Yeah, maybe. But that’s unlikely. Where is he gonna meet somebody? He’s always at the hospital or at the school.”

“That’s not true,” Sabrina stated. “He likes to go out around the city, and he has seminars that take him all over the country.”

Timothy eyed her. “Well, you would know.”

Sabrina glared at him.

As they got up from the table after finishing their break, Scully and Michelle heading back to the neurosciences critical care ward on the 3rd floor, Sabrina called out to Scully.

“Dana?” Sabrina said.

Scully turned back to look at her. “Yeah?”

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Sabrina asked.

Scully turned to Michelle. “I’ll meet you there.”

Michelle smiled and nodded, and then made her way out of the cafeteria. Scully walked back over to the now-empty table, where Sabrina was standing.

Sabrina hesitated, but then looked Scully straight in the eyes and lowered her voice. “I just think you should know that Daniel will never leave his wife.”

Scully blanched. “Why… why are you telling me that?”

Sabrina gave her a sarcastic look. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone. I personally know what it’s like to have people around here stare at you, making judgments. But I just think you should know. Daniel will never leave his wife for you. Don’t be a fool. If you’re hoping that he will, you’ll only get hurt. Trust me.”

Scully arched her eyebrow, and then spoke the truth. “I’m not expecting him to.”

“Oh, well then I guess you don’t have any problems,” Sabrina quipped before walking away from her.

Scully thought that Sabrina clearly wasn’t over whatever had happened with Daniel. She rolled her eyes, and made her way to the 3rd floor.

Later that evening, at exactly 8:00 pm, Scully walked down the 3rd floor corridor towards the elevators when the neuro operating room storage closet flew open and a strong hand grabbed her arm and pulled her inside. Scully locked the door behind her. Not long after that, Scully was bent over a cabinet, the muscles of her cunt clenching around Daniel’s cock as he thrust from behind, an overwhelming orgasm surging through her entire body. Before Daniel, she’d thought she knew what orgasms were, thought she’d had them plenty of times. How wrong she’d been. These were orgasms, this was what she was supposed to have been experiencing all along.

Early on Friday evening, May 26th, Scully walked out of the Chief Medical Examiner’s Office building to the parking lot and found a white letter-sized envelope underneath one of her windshield wipers. She grabbed it and got inside her car, locking her doors. The envelope contained a hotel room key and a note from Daniel.

“I have a cardiovascular seminar at the Washington Hospital Center in DC. I got us a suite at the Marriott in College Park for the weekend. Room 255, the Executive King Suite. It’s about time we used a bed.”

Scully then turned over the note as she saw something was written on the back.

“I love you.”

She smiled, blushing. She felt excited, and then her stomach tightened with nerves. It had been important she keep her guard up, despite how infatuated she was. She didn’t want to let this thing with Daniel get too carried away, let herself get too carried away. But then she reminded herself that it was obviously impossible for that to happen. Daniel was married and everyone believed, herself included, that he would never leave Barbara.

August 1989

On Sunday evening, August 6th, Scully had returned home to her apartment in Baltimore following a weekend in Chicago. She had just completed her final eight-week core clerkship, in emergency medicine, and Daniel had taken her away for the weekend as he had an American Heart Association conference. Registration wasn’t until the 18th, and instruction for Fourth Years wasn’t going to start until the 21st. Scully was looking forward to a much-needed break.

Late on Monday morning, August 7th, there was a knock on her front door. She opened it to see a Maryland Messenger courier holding a large cardboard box. After signing for it, she brought it inside to her bedroom. Once she'd opened the package, she pulled out a large rectangular Calvin Klein gift box. Scully’s eyes went wide, and she smiled. After pulling off the lid, and pulling away the tissue paper, she lifted up a short red party dress. Scully shook her head. This must’ve cost Daniel hundreds of dollars. Since February, he’d showered her with flowers, pretty dresses, and expensive jewelry. It was nice, but it made her feel confused. The warm, fuzzy feelings were coupled with feelings of fear, sadness, and guilt. Scully didn’t exactly feel guilty in regards to Daniel’s wife. But there was powerful guilt there, something she couldn’t exactly place, and she had to frequently suppress it. Underneath the dress was a note.

“Wear this tonight. Be ready by 8:00.”

Tonight? But it was Monday. She never saw Daniel on Mondays. She wondered what was up his sleeve. Scully wasn’t all that fond of surprises, but she dutifully got herself ready in time. At 8:00 on the dot, a limo pulled up in front of the house. Scully walked out her apartment door, to see the driver walking around the side of the car and holding the door open as Daniel got out.

“Hurricane Scully!”

Scully’s eyes went wide with shock, and she quickly looked up and down to see if anyone else was around. She walked off the porch and down towards the limo.

“Daniel, what are you doing at my apartment? Someone might see you.”

He shrugged. “Any students and faculty with any sense have fled Baltimore until registration.”

“I guess we don’t have any sense then,” Scully smirked, arching an eyebrow.

“I have no reason to flee while the woman I love is in the city,” Daniel replied, grinning.

Scully smiled, and then got into the limo. Daniel sat beside her in the back seat and they cuddled while the driver took them to their destination, kissing and whispering sweet nothings. Then Scully thought of something. Her and Daniel had spent every weekend together since June, most weekends spent in the Marriott hotel in College Park. Someone was bound to notice this.

“Uh, Daniel, won’t Barbara get suspicious that immediately after coming home from a weekend in Chicago you’re going out tonight?”

He stared at her, and then sighed. “Barbara and Maggie are in the South of France right now. It’s a high school graduation gift. Maggie wanted to travel through Europe for the summer. I haven’t seen them since 4th of July.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Can you believe I have a kid graduating high school? I feel so old.”

Scully laughed. “Daniel, you’re only 43. That’s not old.”

As Scully looked at Daniel, it seemed as though there was something on his mind. He looked like he was trying to decide something, but then it was gone and he was smiling once again, whispering to her how beautiful she was and how much he adored her.

That night, Daniel took Scully to The Ambassador Kitchen, an expensive restaurant in Baltimore’s Inner Harbor. Even though it was closed on Mondays, Daniel had gotten the chef and owner to open it for just him and Scully. The restaurant had dim lighting, red-tablecloth-draped-tables with candles on top, and two fireplaces for use in the winter months. Throughout their meal they held hands at the table, and afterwards Debussy played in the background as they danced in the empty dining room.

“I love you, Dana,” Daniel whispered, as he held her waist against him with one hand and held her hand to his chest with his other. “Do you love me?”

Scully smiled up at him. “Yes, of course.”

He gave her a penetrating stare. “There is no ‘of course.’ You either do or you don’t.”

Scully sighed, hesitating. She did love Daniel. He was a remarkable man, and he adored her. She’d never known a man like him. She gazed at him. “Yes, Daniel. I love you.”

Later that night, they stayed in a suite at the Omni International Baltimore hotel. Daniel made passionate love to Scully, saying how much he loved and needed her as he came, the emotions of his powerful orgasm bringing tears to his eyes. And Scully once again felt that guilt she couldn’t place, the fear, and the sadness.

December 1989

On Wednesday morning, December 20th, the last day of her forensic pathology clerkship, Chief Medical Examiner Donald Stewart called Scully into his office. Upon entering, she was surprised to see George Hill of the FBI sitting in the office with Don. They stood up when she entered and George introduced himself again, shaking her hand. Scully then sat down in the chair next to George, facing Don’s desk.

“So, Dana, I called you in because George wanted to meet with you,” Don said.

Scully was surprised. “With me?”

George chuckled. “Yes. The FBI is very interested in you.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Really?”

He nodded. “As you know, Johns Hopkins Hospital is one of the top three hospitals in the country, and an M.D. from Hopkins is considered elite status in the medical profession. The FBI regularly recruits pathologists who have obtained medical degrees from these three hospitals.”

“But… I’m not a pathologist,” Scully replied.

George tilted his head slightly. “Yes, that’s true. Not yet, anyways. As you also know, technically to become a forensic pathologist you would need a further four or five years of residency after you complete medical school.”

Scully nodded, sighing and looking down at her lap. This was one of the big reasons that held her back from declaring forensic pathology as her career choice. Five years of residency in pathology was a big commitment, and not one that some people in her life would approve of. Specifically, Daniel and her father.

George and Don glanced at each other, before George cleared his throat. “But, uh, the FBI is willing to bend this education requirement in your case.”

She looked up at him, shocked. “Why?”

George smiled at her. “Because you’re the best of the bunch. Out of all the medical students doing their pathology clerkships here, you stand head and shoulders above the others. You have the knowledge, skills, and attitude necessary for forensic investigation. I’ve also been all over the country recruiting for the FBI, reading student reports and talking to medical examiners. And I must say we want you at Quantico. Badly. The usual five months of special agent training at the FBI Academy, which starts in June and ends in October, can be extended so that you will have further forensic education at Quantico, which will then be ongoing until you complete the education requirements to become a fully licensed forensic pathologist.”

Scully didn’t know what to say. She still hadn’t made any decisions about what she would do after graduation in May. At the start of her Fourth Year, back in August, she began to apply for both surgical and pathology residency programs in the area. Several faculty members had made it clear that Johns Hopkins Hospital would take her on for anything she wanted to do. Staying in Baltimore with Daniel was certainly appealing. Very soon, she’d have to make a decision about what she would do for her post-graduate residency.

She’d spent the previous four months doing the required Fourth Year chronic disease clerkship and advanced critical care clerkship. She had a strong interest in neurosurgery, but pathology was becoming a passion. She had applied for Fourth Year electives: the advanced neurology clerkship that would begin in January and last four weeks, and the surgical pathology clerkship at the Bayview Medical Center that would start at the end of March after spring vacation and lasted until Fourth Year instruction ended in May. Despite all this planning and applying, no final decision about what to do with her career had been made. The chance to work at Quantico, of all places, was an offer she hadn’t been prepared for. Scully’s stomach was in knots, as a war of anxiety raged in her mind about what to do with her life.

February 23, 1990

It was a Friday night, and Scully was spending her 26th birthday with Daniel at the Marriott in College Park. As they sat down to dinner in The Garden restaurant off the hotel lobby, Scully wanted to talk to Daniel about her post-graduation plans. She thought that pathology might be too big a risk. Quantico was an appealing offer, but what if it was the wrong choice not to practice medicine? What if, years later, she realized that she’d made a huge mistake and should’ve gone on to do surgical residency? What if, years later, she still couldn't pay her parents back for medical school because she’s stuck making less than $40,000 a year at the FBI? Her father hadn’t taken her interest in pathology seriously, and certainly neither had Daniel. The more he spoke against pathology, the more Scully had wanted to do it just to make him mad. She thought he’d eventually cottoned on because he’d stopped making derisive comments months ago. Forensic pathology felt right, but she didn't know if this was the choice she should make. The thought of practicing medicine didn't have the same appeal that it once had, but neurosurgery was fascinating and she knew it was something she could enjoy. She had to make a decision.

The restaurant was full of patrons, a typical Friday night. Scully and Daniel were enjoying their white wine and Maryland blue crab entrees. She was looking forward to springtime and nice weather so they could once again enjoy sitting outside in the Asian garden. After they’d finished their meal they remained at their table, in no hurry to leave. Daniel held out his palm across the table, and Scully put her hand in his.

“I want to talk to you about something important,” Daniel said, gazing at her.

“Okay,” Scully said. She knew what was coming. He’d been asking her about her residency choice for weeks, but she’d always told him she hadn’t decided yet. She knew he wanted her to stay in Baltimore, that he was worried she’d choose a residency that took her out of Maryland.

Daniel gazed at her. “I’m calling my lawyer on Monday to have him draw up divorce papers.”

Scully pulled her hand away. Oh, God. Could she marry him? The thought of spending the rest of her life with Daniel was appealing. He loved her, and he was offering her the life she always thought she'd wanted. So why was her heart telling her not to take it? How could he do this? Leave his wife? He was ruining everything. She felt like her heart had fallen into her stomach. She was on the verge of hyperventilating. The fear, and the sadness, and the guilt were suddenly flooding her in torrential waves. She could place it now, this guilt. She knew exactly why she’d felt so guilty over the past year.

“Why would you do that, Daniel?”

He was staring at her in confusion. “What do you mean? I’m not in love with Barbara. I’m in love with you. I want you to be my wife. I’m tired of hiding and sneaking around. I’m proud of you, I’m proud of what we have. And I want everyone to know.”

Scully closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, forcing herself not to cry. She couldn’t do this. She’d known all along that she never would, and the guilt was eating away at her. She had to get away from him. In that split second, she’d made her final decision.

“Daniel, when I graduate I’m moving to Quantico, Virginia.”

He stared at her. “Dana, why would you leave Baltimore? I thought you were going to stay on and do your surgical residency here. Think of what you’re passing up! Do you know how many medical students would kill for a residency at Johns Hopkins?”

“It’s my decision, Daniel. It’s what I want to do. I don’t want to practice medicine. Forensic pathology is right for me. And there’s nothing you can do to change my mind.”

He balked. “Not practice?! What… the FBI?! Are you out of your damn mind?! You belong in Baltimore. With me.”

Scully abruptly stood up from the table and walked out of the restaurant, Daniel finally catching up with her in the parking lot near her car. He grabbed her arm and spun her around.

“Look me in the face and tell me you don’t love me,” Daniel demanded.

“Daniel, let me go!”

“Tell me you don’t love me!” he yelled, as angry, hurt tears filled his eyes.

Scully stifled a sob. The guilt was crushing her. “If you don’t let me go, I will scream!”

Daniel let go of her arm, and he crumbled. “How could you do this to me?”

Scully turned around and hurriedly unlocked her car door, getting inside and starting the engine. As she drove away, Daniel was in her rearview mirror, tears streaming down his face. At first she was heading back towards Baltimore, but she made a sudden turn and drove home to Alexandria. At just past 9:30 pm, she pulled into her parents’ driveway.

About a minute after knocking on the front door, her mother answered, and the sight of her mother caused Scully to finally break down. She walked straight into her mother’s arms, and sobbed into her shoulder.

“Dana, what’s wrong?” Maggie asked, worried.

“I can’t tell you,” Scully choked through her sobs. “Dad isn’t here, is he?”

“No, honey. It’s Friday night. You know he’s at his poker game.”

Maggie walked her daughter into the house, closing the door behind them. Scully sat on the couch in the living room, and then lied down, her sobs continuing. Fifteen minutes later, Melissa walked through the door.

“Mom?” Melissa called out as she closed the door behind her. “It’s me! Is Dana here?”

Melissa then turned into the living room to see a crumpled Scully, laying on the couch and crying. Melissa walked over and sat on the floor in front of the couch, brushing Scully’s long red hair away from her face.

“Dana, what is it? What’s happened?”

“Did Mom call you?” Scully said through her tears.

“No,” Melissa replied.

Scully looked at her. “Then how did you know I was here?”

“I had a strong feeling,” Melissa said.

“Oh God, Missy. Not that psychic crap. I don’t need to hear that right now."

Maggie entered the room with a cup of tea for Scully. She sat up, taking the tea and drinking. Maggie sat down on the couch next to Scully. Maggie and Melissa exchanged concerned looks.

“Dana, tell me,” Maggie implored.

Scully choked out another sob. “You’ll be so ashamed of me.”

“Dana? Are you pregnant?” asked Melissa.

“No, thank God,” Scully groaned. “I’d fucking kill myself.”

Maggie’s eyes bulged. “Dana Katherine! We don’t use that language in this house.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Scully sighed, setting her tea down on the table next to the arm of the couch.

Scully couldn’t bear to see the look on her mother’s face if she told her the truth, but the guilt was overwhelming her, and she needed to get it off her chest. “You know my faculty advisor, Dr. Waterston?”

“Your mentor?” Maggie responded.

And Melissa knew. She stared at Scully, but Scully refused to make eye contact.

“Yeah,” replied Scully. “He and I, uh, well for the past year, we were… involved.”

Maggie sighed. She knew the man was married.

Scully felt fresh tears fill her eyes. “And tonight he said that he was going to divorce his wife. That he wanted to marry me.”

Melissa closed her eyes, and hung her head. She knew exactly what the problem was.

“Do you love him, Dana?” Maggie asked.

Scully cried. “But I’m not a home wrecker. I can’t break up his family.”

Maggie sighed. “Well, honey, I think it’s too late for that if you’ve been involved with the man for the past year. Didn’t you think something like this would happen?”

How could she explain to her mother that Daniel had plenty of extramarital relationships over the years and had remained with his wife through them all? “No, Mom,” Scully cried. “I never expected him to leave his wife.”

Melissa’s suspicions were correct.

Maggie sighed. “Well, if he loves you… don’t you want to marry him?”

Scully wiped the tears from her face, giving off a shuddering sob, catching her breath. “I thought about it. I thought about spending the rest of my life with him. But now… I can’t.”

Maggie sighed again, rubbing her hand over Scully’s. “It’s gonna be all right, Dana. You’ll see. Do you want to stay the night?”

Scully nodded, and then Maggie stood up from the couch. “Oh, Mom. You’re not going to tell Dad, are you? Or Bill Jr?”

Maggie turned and looked down at her daughter, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Honey, I’m going to take this to the grave with me. Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Scully gave her mother a half smile, gratefulness written all over her face, before Maggie went upstairs. She then turned to look at Melissa, who hadn’t said a word during this confession.

“How could you let it get this far?” Melissa asked.

Scully closed her eyes, putting her hand over her face. “I never thought he’d want to leave his wife.”

“Dana, when are you going to finally open up and allow yourself to love someone?”

Scully sighed. “I… I love Daniel. I do.”

Melissa shook her head in disbelief. “Do you? Honestly? Not enough to make a commitment. You allowed yourself to love someone who you believed would never be yours. You could let yourself have this relationship, these feelings, while still controlling the situation, maintaining some kind of distance. You let your guard down because his marriage was a safety net that kept you from having to risk anything. And as soon as he was about to make himself free, you spurned him.”

Fresh tears welled up in Scully’s eyes, and she stifled a sob. The pain and guilt from hurting Daniel was too much to bear. “What have I done?”

“You obviously made him believe you were in love with him,” Melissa said, exasperated. “When are you going to stop doing this, Dana?”

Scully sobbed as she berated herself for allowing her relationship with Daniel to get too serious, for allowing herself to get caught up in the romance of it all, and inwardly vowed that she would do everything in her power to never feel this kind of pain again.

*****

As Scully lied awake in bed next to a sleeping Mulder, she wished she’d never embarked on a relationship with Daniel. That she had been stronger and resisted involving herself with a married man. But was his marriage the issue? No, it had never been, really. Scully knew Melissa had been right. Scully realized that she wished she’d never gotten so seriously involved with a man as good, as brilliant, and as loving as Daniel, knowing full well that she wouldn’t stay with him forever, and hurting him terribly. How could she ever forgive herself? It was all her fault.

Scully then suddenly remembered another conversation with Melissa. It was during Christmas 1990, after she’d graduated from the FBI Academy and she was anxious over starting her teaching position at Quantico after the New Year. She was going to be giving pathology lectures to new agents, teaching them about what forensic clues they need to look for when they come across a dead body in the field. It was a basic class that Scully would teach alongside her own continuing education in pathology at Quantico.

But Scully had been anxious again, wondering if she was making the right decision. Medical school had felt right for a long time, but by the time she’d graduated practicing medicine felt like the wrong thing for her. What if somewhere down the line she came to this same realization about pathology and the FBI? What if she was making a huge mistake? Her father had seemed to think so. But Melissa had said something to her, something that was suddenly brought forward in her mind.

_“You don't know who you're going to meet when you join the FBI. You don't know how your life is going to change or how you're going to change the life of others.”_

So what if she hadn’t gotten involved with Daniel? Where would she be right now? Would she have been compelled to go running to the FBI to get away from him? Scully would most likely have gone into residency after medical school, and right now she’d probably be a surgeon at some hospital somewhere. She wouldn’t be lying here in this bed, next to Mulder. Her life at the moment was a jumbled, confused mess and she had no idea where this thing with him would lead. But Mulder was good, and brilliant, and loving. Scully fervently hoped that she would never, ever hurt him.

She then scooched over closer to Mulder and pressed her body into his side, running her hand up and down his stomach and chest. He groaned and then turned his head, slowly blinking at her.

“Scully, are you all right?” Mulder asked groggily.

“Yes, Mulder, I’m okay,” Scully whispered, continuing to run her hand from Mulder’s chest down to the hairs running south from his belly button. “I want you to make love to me.”

He blinked himself fully awake, and gave her a surprised smile. Mulder then rolled Scully over, and kissed her passionately.


	48. “You must dare to dream, but there's no substitute for perseverance and hard work, and teamwork."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder gets called in by the Violent Crimes Unit at the worst possible time. Scully undergoes her second IVF procedure.
> 
> Sorry for the longer wait. It took a few days to get Scully and Daniel out of my head before I could move on with the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coldplay – “Fix You”
> 
> When you try your best, but you don't succeed  
> When you get what you want, but not what you need  
> When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep  
> Stuck in reverse
> 
> And the tears come streaming down your face  
> When you lose something you can't replace  
> When you love someone, but it goes to waste  
> Could it be worse?
> 
> Lights will guide you home  
> And ignite your bones  
> And I will try to fix you
> 
> And high up above or down below  
> When you're too in love to let it go  
> But if you never try you'll never know  
> Just what you're worth
> 
> Lights will guide you home  
> And ignite your bones  
> And I will try to fix you
> 
> Tears stream down your face  
> When you lose something you cannot replace  
> Tears stream down your face  
> And I...
> 
> Tears stream down your face  
> I promise you I will learn from my mistakes  
> Tears stream down your face  
> And I...
> 
> Lights will guide you home  
> And ignite your bones  
> And I will try to fix you

At just past 4:00 am on Tuesday morning, December 7th, Mulder’s telephone started ringing. He could hear it and thought that maybe if he ignored it, it would go away. No such luck. He reached out to his bedside table and picked up the cordless phone. Scully opened her eyes and groaned, before turning to lay on her other side, putting her back to him.

“Hello?” he answered groggily.

“Agent Mulder?” spoke a familiar voice, but he couldn’t place it.

He sighed. “Yes. Who is calling?”

“This is Agent Sam Cole, with the VCU.”

After a moment, his tired brain made the connections and he knew who he was talking to. He wasn’t sure whether he would prefer this to be a personal call or work-related. “What can I do for you, Agent Cole?”

Agent Cole cleared his throat. “Well, uh, I’m working this case, and, uh, it’s pretty brutal. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Silver Spring Surgeon?”

Mulder felt his stomach go into knots. _Oh, no. God, no. Why? Why?_ “Yes, of course I have.”

“Well, uh, we haven’t been able to catch this guy, and two more women are now missing. We don’t want to find them like we found the others.”

“Hold on,” Mulder said. He looked over at Scully, who had seemed to fall back asleep, and sighed. He sat up and quietly got out of bed, walking out of the bedroom and into the living room. “Okay,” he said as he sat down on his couch. He knew exactly why he’d received this phone call, but he still held out a small glimmer of hope that he was wrong. “So why are you calling me?”

“I need a Profiler,” Agent Cole replied.

“There are plenty down at the Behavioral Science Unit,” Mulder said, that glimmer of hope now extinguished.

Agent Cole paused. “Yes, I know. Quantico has had the case file for the past nine months. We still don’t have any suspects.”

“This isn’t a good time, Agent Cole,” he replied. “You’re better off sticking with the BSU. They’ll crack it eventually.”

Silence. “Agent Mulder, eleven women are dead; raped and tortured. Two more are now missing. I really don’t want to beg, but can you please help us?”

How could he say no? “Okay,” Mulder sighed.

Agent Cole sighed. “I must say it’s a real relief to have you and Agent Scully on the case.”

He paused. “Agent Scully won't be working this.”

“Why not?” Agent Cole asked, with a surprised tone of voice.

“Because I don’t bring Agent Scully in on behavioral analysis work. It’s a one-man job.”

Agent Cole hesitated. “We’d feel a lot better if you worked this as a team. I put in a request at Quantico to have Agent Scully perform any future autopsies, God forbid there are any needed. But there probably will be by the time we catch this psycho.”

“Agent Scully will not be working this,” Mulder replied adamantly. “And she won’t be performing any autopsies, Agent Cole. So don’t bother. When and where do you need me?”

Silence. “As soon as possible. Silver Spring, Maryland. Montgomery County Police Department. Piney Branch Road.”

“I’ll be there," he said, before hanging up.

Mulder felt a sickening sensation growing in the pit of his stomach. This was going to be bad. Really bad. He knew it. He got up from the couch. He’d told Agent Cole the truth. Working up a criminal profile was a solitary job. At least for him it had always been that way. He knew that he was going to immerse himself into the sick, dark mind of an evil psychopath. He could bring people there with him, sure. But he never did, and he wasn’t about to start with his partner. He wanted to keep as much darkness and evil away from her as possible, not bring her closer.

As he walked into the bedroom and stared at a peacefully sleeping Scully, he felt an indescribable sinking feeling. He was going to be shutting himself off to her, closing down and living inside his head until this case was solved. He wouldn’t stop until it was over. But she needed him to be around. When he’d told Agent Cole this was a bad time, he’d meant it. The embryo transfer was set for Friday, and that was only if there were still any healthy embryos by then. Scully would need him to be there, either way. And Mulder knew he wouldn’t be.

*****

Scully awoke to the 6:00 am alarm to find the bed devoid of Mulder. When she got up and looked around, she saw the apartment was devoid of him also. When she went back to the bedroom, she saw a note on his bedside table.

“Called in by VCU. I’ll be in Silver Spring. Don’t know when I’ll be back. I’ll call you at the office later.”

Scully stared at the note. Didn’t know when he’d be back? At first she thought he’d only meant at what time today, but then she started to realize that he might mean indefinitely. She sighed, and returned home to her apartment to get ready for work. She stepped on the scale and saw she’d gained three pounds, groaning. Hormone treatment was making her increasingly miserable. She’d been moody and edgy for the past few days, and that night in College Park didn’t help. Plus, on top of her terrible moods and water weight, she was plagued with headaches as well as soreness from the progesterone injections. Over the past couple days, she’d impatiently snapped at Mulder enough times to make him discontinue any attempts at conversation, or sex. But he still stuck around and made his presence known, even if she didn’t want to be in the same room as him. He’d even asked her to stay at his place last night, knowing full well she was in a rotten mood and there would be no sex. She hoped that Mulder wasn’t regretting involving himself in this whole IVF process, or that he wouldn’t grow fed up with her. It certainly was nothing like what it had been the first time.

She got dressed and ready for work, and then at 9:00 am departed Georgetown and made her way to the Hoover Building in downtown D.C. It was almost noon when the basement office phone rang.

“Scully.”

“Hey, it’s me,” Mulder said.

“Hi!” she replied, smiling, the feeling of pleasant butterflies was filling her stomach at the sound of his voice. She then rolled her eyes at herself.

“How are you?” he asked tentatively.

Scully paused. He was obviously trying to determine what kind of mood she was in. “How am _I?_ How are _you,_ Mulder? What’s going on in Maryland?”

He sighed. “The Silver Spring Surgeon.”

She grimaced. It had been all over the news for months. And then she sighed. She hated the way Mulder withdrew into himself and became isolated whenever he worked these VCU cases. Thankfully, they were usually few and far between.

“Are you all right, Mulder?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah, Scully, I’m fine. It’s just…,” he sighed. “This is awful.”

She nodded. “Tell me about it.”

Silence. “I, uh, I gotta go, Scully. The SAC is calling me over. I’ll talk to you later.” Mulder hung up without waiting for a response.

She sighed, and then looked around the empty basement office, wondering when her partner would return.

On Friday morning, December 10th, she received a call on her cell phone just as she’d arrived at the basement office.

“Scully.”

“Dana? This is Dr. Parenti.”

She froze, her stomach twisting into knots. She’d been trying not to think about this phone call all week, but it had been hard not to without Mulder around to distract her from her own thoughts. She hadn’t seen him since she fell asleep Monday night. He was spending his days working in Silver Spring, Maryland and then she guessed he was driving home to his apartment late at night. Or maybe he’d found a motel to stay at in Silver Spring. She didn’t know. She worried about him, wondering if he was taking care of himself. She knew he had a tendency to forgo both food and sleep when he obsessed over a case. She’d wanted to drive to Silver Spring to check up on him. But she had a strong feeling that this wouldn’t be welcomed, and so she stayed away. Mulder only called her once a day and whenever she asked him to share his burden with her, he’d make some excuse to get off the phone.

“Hi, Dr. Parenti.”

“Well, Dana, I have some good news for you.”

Her eyes went wide. _Oh, my God._ “Really?”

“Yes, really. Out of the 10 eggs we inseminated, two have become healthy blastocysts.”

“Oh, my God,” she breathed. She couldn’t believe it.

“So, if you’d like to come down this evening when you get out of work, we can perform IVF. Uh… my last appointment is at 6:15 pm. So if you could be here by 7:00, we’ll do the transfer then.”

She felt too many emotions at once. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

“Great, I’ll see you later,” Dr. Parenti said, before hanging up.

Scully had to tell Mulder right away. She called his cell phone, but it went right to voicemail. She didn’t want to leave the news in a message. What she really wanted was to tell him face to face. She then sat at the desk, debating whether or not to drive up to Silver Spring.

*****

On Friday afternoon, Mulder could be found hunched over a table in one of the interrogation rooms at the Montgomery County Police Department. In front of him were crime scene photographs, witness accounts from those who found the bodies of the victims, datebooks or pocket calendars belonging to the victims and interviews with those who had seen them last alive, interviews with the victims’ families, friends, and co-workers, and autopsy reports. Agent Sam Cole entered the room and sat down at the table across from Mulder.

“How’s it going?” Agent Cole asked.

He sighed. “Slow.”

“Well, at least we’ve got something to go on: Male, age 35 to 45, hatred of women, deep-seated anger, unemployed or low-paying job, no education past high school.”

Mulder looked up from the table at Agent Cole. “Quantico came up with that, not me.”

He nodded. “But… do you agree with that profile?”

“Most of it,” Mulder nodded. “I’m not sure about the education part. There’s a likely chance this guy is highly educated.”

“What makes you say that?” Agent Cole asked.

“The 'Surgeon' nickname, for one. He’s too perfect, too precise. He knows what he’s doing.”

Agent Cole thought about that. “But aren’t highly educated individuals less likely to commit violent crimes?”

“Yes,” Mulder answered, sighing and rubbing his eyes. He hadn’t slept in two days, and he was at his wits end with this case. He couldn’t get a clear picture into the criminal they were looking for, he couldn’t figure out his next move. The two missing women still hadn’t been found. With each passing hour, he knew they were suffering horribly and getting closer to their eventual deaths. He had to stop it. He had to save them. But he couldn’t put the pieces together. The eleven victims had all ranged in age, race, body type, hair color, eye color. Some were married with children, some were single. The women had nothing significant in common. They didn’t attend the same church, or go to the same doctor, community center. The mothers did not have children attending the same school. The women had a few things in common; they were all financially comfortable, they had pets, and they had jobs. But none of these women worked for the same company, or even on the same street. None of them had a veterinarian in common. None of them used the same bank. He was at a loss. But he felt like all the pieces were there, and he just couldn't make the connections.

“Well, then I don’t see how that can fit with the rest of the profile,” Agent Cole replied.

He looked at him. “Why? Educated people can be unemployed, or underpaid and feel undervalued.”

Agent Cole nodded. “You’re right.”

At that moment, his partner, Agent Sarah Brewer, burst into the room. “Peg Flannigan was found.”

The two male agents stared at the grim look on Agent Brewer’s face. Mulder felt his stomach bottom out.

*****

Scully parked her car on Jessup Blair Drive in Silver Spring, Maryland. A phone call to Skinner on her drive north had let her know that Mulder was with the investigative team at Jessup Blair Park. Scully sighed when Skinner gave her this piece of information. This made victim number 12. As Scully made her way through the police tape barricade, showing her FBI badge to gain admittance, she walked down a pathway until she saw a crowd of law enforcement and emergency personnel. She also saw some officers talking to a couple witnesses, probably those who had initially found the body, and then saw one of them become violently sick. Scully closed her eyes and shook her head. She could guess at what kind of horror they had stumbled upon.

Scully scanned the crowd for Mulder. God, she missed him. And this annoyed her somewhat. It had only been a few days, not really that long, but here she was showing up a crime scene just to see a man. Good grief. She could’ve easily just left a message for Mulder, letting him know to meet her at Dr. Parenti’s at 7:00. But she wanted to see him. She’d even offered several times to come up here to help him, share the load. But he refused, saying “Scully, you know that I need to work alone when I’m doing this. You know how I am when I’m working this kind of thing. It’s not a good idea.” This was the exact reason why she didn’t want him to work alone. But she at least thought that he’d come home at night, that she’d at least get to see him, talk to him, sleep next to him. But every night she went to bed alone, and he never showed up. Scully then stood there, wondering why she’d referred to her apartment in the context of Mulder coming home. She pushed that thought away before she could dwell on it.

Scully then spotted Mulder talking with Special Agents Cole and Brewer, his brows furrowed and his shoulders slumped in defeat. They were standing several feet from the body, which was blocked from view by the forensic team. She sighed, and started to head over towards them. When she was just a few feet away, Agent Cole turned and saw her, a big smile breaking out across his face. Scully found it kind of strange that Mulder wasn’t the first one to notice her presence.

“Agent Scully!” Agent Cole called out. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

Agent Brewer gave him the side-eye. Mulder turned his head and saw Scully approaching, his eyes widening, and he stared at her.

“What the hell are you doing here, Scully?” Mulder demanded, walking to stand between Scully and Agents Cole and Brewer, who looked at each other in confusion.

Scully was put off guard by Mulder’s tone, and the hard look on his face. “I… I just came to talk to you.”

He grabbed her by the elbow, and walked her farther away from the group. “I want you to get out of here.”

“Mulder, what’s the problem?” Scully said, pulling her arm free from his grasp.

“I don’t want you to see this.”

Scully arched an eyebrow at him. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

Mulder opened his mouth to reply, but then quickly closed it.

She sighed in exasperation. “I didn’t come down here to work, anyways. I came down to tell you that I’m having the embryo transfer tonight at 7:00. At Dr. Parenti’s.”

Mulder’s eyes went wide, and he stared at her. Then he sighed. “Scully, I’ll do everything in my power to be there.”

Scully took a good look at him. She saw his pale skin, the dark circles under his eyes. He looked exhausted, and haggard. “Mulder, when was the last time you slept? Or ate something?”

Mulder sighed. “I don’t know, Scully.”

She went to reach out to stroke his arm affectionately, but then stopped herself. “Let me help you, Mulder. Please.”

“Scully, I don’t need your help.”

She was taken aback by this statement, and felt herself growing angry. “At least let me do the autopsy.”

Mulder shook his head. “There are plenty of other pathologists at Quantico.”

She arched her eyebrow at him. “When the hell did you figure that out?”

He stared at her, and then turned around, calling out to her as he walked away, “I’ll meet you at 7:00, Scully.”

Scully just stared after his departing back, hoping intensely that this gruesome case was solved as soon as possible.

*****

At 6:09 pm on Friday, the body of the second missing woman, Ruth Berlin, was found at Sligo Creek. At 7:55 pm, Mulder was rushing through the doors of the Parenti Medical Group in College Park, but he was too late. Scully had already come and gone. Mulder started to drive towards Georgetown, but then he’d received a call on his cell phone from Agent Brewer. Another woman, Hazel Johnson, had gone missing. Mulder turned his car around, and drove back to the Montgomery County Police Station, where he spent the night pouring over crime scene photographs, statements, and interviews. He didn’t give Scully a call, nor had she called him. Maybe that was best. At 10:37 pm, Mulder fell asleep with his head buried in his arms over the table.

_Somehow he’d gone back to Colorado, but he had no memory of this. He was walking through the darkening forest, looking for the missing women. They were in here! He knew they were! He just had to find them! His flashlight then went out. **Dammit.** Mulder smacked it in his hand, but no use. It was dead. How was he going to find the women in the dark? They were suffering, they were in pain, dying at the hands of a madman. Every moment wasted stumbling in the dark was a moment bringing them closer to death. Then Mulder saw a light steadily coming towards him, growing brighter until he could see that it was Scully, carrying her flashlight. _

_“Mulder, why did you go off on your own? You know we were supposed to stick together.”  
_

_“I have to find these women, Scully.”  
_

_“But I have the map of the state park in my backpack, Mulder. How are you going to find them by yourself?”  
_

_He sighed.  
_

_“Do you need my help, Mulder?”  
_

_“Yes.”  
_

_“I’ll hold the flashlight, and you just follow the light. We’ll find the women, Mulder. Okay? Together.”  
_

_Scully then shone the flashlight in front of them, lighting the path ahead. Mulder followed her as she walked._

“Agent Mulder?”

Mulder lifted his head off the table, blinking himself awake, taking in his surroundings. “Yeah?”

“Another woman is missing,” Agent Cole said.

“Yeah, Hazel Johnson. I know.”

Agent Cole shook his head sadly. “No, another woman is missing too, Mulder. Jacqueline O’Neal.”

Mulder sighed as Agent Cole handed him a file on O’Neal, including her picture, datebook, and police interviews with her family, friends, and co-workers. Mulder glanced at his watch; it was 1:53 am. This psycho had abducted women on the same day he’d disposed of the bodies of his latest victims; he was escalating. Something had to be done. This was getting out of control.

*****

Scully was growing increasingly worried about Mulder. When he hadn’t shown up for the embryo transfer, she knew that only an important reason would’ve kept him from being there. Sure enough, another woman had gone missing. It was all over the 11:00 news. Mulder was going to run himself into the ground. She had stayed on the couch after watching the news, knowing that going to bed would be pointless. She called Mulder’s cell phone, but went straight to voicemail and she didn’t bother leaving a message. By 3:30 am, she gave up on sleep and got up off the couch. She honestly hadn’t had much since Tuesday.

She got in her car early on Monday morning, December 13th, while it was still dark and drove to the Montgomery County Police Department. Scully was determined to help, whether he wanted that help or not. Mulder hadn’t spoken to her all weekend, and every time she called him he wouldn’t answer his phone. After she arrived, a police officer showed Scully to the interrogation room that Mulder had taken over as his makeshift office. Mulder wasn’t around, he was out in the field with Agents Cole and Brewer. Scully sat down at the table and looked at the crime scene photographs of the victims’ bodies. Scully was shocked and appalled by what she saw. It turned her stomach. Some bodies had been found in parks, some by bodies of water, and others by the railroad tracks. It was a hodgepodge. Scully then started to read the police interviews, the autopsy reports, and the calendars or datebooks belonging to the victims with details of what they had been doing in the weeks leading up to their deaths.

Scully noticed a commonality among a few of the victims. She then saw the same African American police officer who showed her into the room walk by again. “Oh, Officer Dunlap?”

“Yes? Agent Scully, right?” he replied, walking into the room.

“Yeah. Um, do you know anything about an Animal Palace Pet Grooming?”

Officer Dunlap nodded. “Yep, it’s a mobile pet grooming truck. I see it all the time around town.”

Her stomach tightened. “Do you know who runs it?”

“Just one guy.”

Scully looked down at the pocket calendar of Peg Flannigan, with the pet grooming business written down on one Wednesday afternoon three weeks ago, and a name written underneath. “Does Dr. Todd Berdella sound familiar?”

Officer Dunlap nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s him. I think he used to be a veterinarian. Not sure why, but he doesn’t practice.”

Her eyes went wide. “Find that truck.”

Officer Dunlap saw the alarm on her face, and hurriedly left the room. Scully got on the phone with FBI headquarters requesting a background check on Dr. Todd Berdella. She walked out to the parking lot, and got into her car. Once again, Scully called Mulder’s cell phone but after a couple rings it went to voicemail. She wished Mulder would start taking her calls. Scully sighed, and then left a message. After sitting in her car for about 15 minutes, waiting for someone, anyone to return her call, she started to drive towards Quantico. The Pathology Division was holding the annual forensic training workshop and she was required to attend. Once she’d crossed state lines into Virginia, she received a phone call from FBI headquarters with the background check.

*****

Mulder was driving in the car with Agents Cole and Brewer. They’d just re-interviewed several family members of the victims, and witnesses who’d last seen them alive. Nothing new was learned. Mulder saw that he had several missed calls from Scully, and a couple voicemails. He didn’t want to deal with that right now. He had to focus on this case. Agent Cole got a phone call.

“Cole … A pet grooming truck? … Well did you find anything?”

He then put his hand over the phone and turned towards Agent Brewer, who was driving, and Mulder in the back seat. “The police pulled over a pet grooming truck to question the driver. Well, the owner, Todd Berdella. He allowed them to search the truck, but they didn’t find anything.”

Mulder sighed. Were they ever going to find Hazel Johnson or Jacqueline O’Neal before it was too late? “They’re just wasting their time. I’m positive we’re looking for a highly educated person, who most likely attended medical school. Not a fucking pet groomer.”

Agent Cole returned to his phone. “Okay, just let him go. Thanks, anyways. Keep up the good work.”

After about 10 minutes, as they drove to the home of Jacqueline O’Neal’s parents, Agent Cole spoke to Mulder.

“So, uh, Agent Mulder, I’ve been thinking of asking Dana out on a date.”

Mulder watched as Agent Brewer turned a wild stare in Agent Cole’s direction as he sat in the passenger seat of the car.

“Why are you telling me this?” Mulder asked. He was exhausted and he wasn’t up for casual chitchat. He wanted to focus on finding those women.

“Well, I, uh, I’ve heard the rumors about the two of you. Now, I haven’t seen anything to make me believe they’re true.”

Agent Brewer just shook her head as she made a left turn onto Sligo Creek Parkway.

“Anyways, I just want to ask you upfront if you two are, uh, involved. I really want to ask her out, but I wouldn’t want to step on your toes, buddy.”

Buddy? Mulder wanted to tell this guy to fuck off. “Agent Scully’s personal life is her business. You’ll have to ask her if she’s involved with anybody.”

Mulder watched as Agents Brewer and Cole exchanged looks, Cole smirking haughtily at her.

“Okay, I’ll do that,” Agent Cole replied. “Do you, uh, think she’d be interested?”

Mulder pulled out his cell phone to avoid this conversation, and played his voicemails.

“Mulder, it’s me. Look, I found a connection between some of the victims. Peg Flannigan, Elaine Page, Beverly DeLong, Darla Reynolds, and Jacqueline O’Neal all had pet grooming done, either for their dog or cat, within three weeks of their abduction. Some of their datebooks simply say ‘pet grooming’ or ‘dog grooming’ and some mention the name of the business, Animal Palace Pet Grooming. It’s a mobile truck that drives around Silver Spring. Peg Flannigan’s calendar also had the name Dr. Todd Berdella written down. You have to get to that truck, Mulder.”

Mulder’s stomach tightened.

“Dammit, Mulder, answer your phone! Dr. Todd Berdella was convicted of rape over 10 years ago in Delaware and was sentenced to seven years in state prison, which he served and was released in 1996. He was a veterinarian, but after his conviction he had his license revoked and can no longer practice. Mulder, it’s him! I know it is! The man doing this had medical training, you can tell by the way he mutilated his victims. His address is 8920 Maine Avenue.”

“Turn the car around!” Mulder yelled. "It’s the pet grooming guy! Oh, my God, we had him! He’s going to kill them now. Jacqueline O’Neal and Hazel Johnson. He’s gone back to his house. 8920 Maine Avenue! Go! Go! Go!”

Agent Brewer spun the car around as Agent Cole got on the phone with the Montgomery County Police requesting officers to converge on Maine Avenue and others to put an APB out on the Animal Palace Pet Grooming truck.

*****

Scully spent all day at Quantico without hearing from Mulder. She’d managed to get through to Skinner and he told her that Dr. Todd Berdella was their guy, and that the FBI and the police had moved in on it. Scully felt relieved it was over. She also felt thankful she had this four day workshop, as she would be sitting all day mostly and wouldn’t need to be on her feet for anything. Not only was this good because of having IVF done, but she was exhausted. The last week of little to no sleep was catching up to her. If only she didn’t have to drink Gatorade all day long.

At just past 7:00 pm, after Scully had been home for about an hour and a half, there was a knock on her door. She opened it to see Mulder standing there. He looked like hell. He was even paler, the circles under his eyes were even darker, he hadn’t shaved in days, and his clothes were wrinkled. Scully stepped aside and he walked silently into her apartment, turning left into the kitchen and sitting at the table.

After closing and locking the door, she followed him into the kitchen. Scully then grabbed a plate and silverware and walked over to the stove, dishing up some of the dinner she’d cooked, and set the plate down in front of Mulder as he took off his trench coat. She then sat down in front of him.

Mulder stared at his plate, the roast chicken, Brussels sprouts and mashed potatoes, and he wasn’t sure he could eat. “I fucked up, Scully.”

Scully looked at him with concern. “What happened?”

“We found Berdella at his house. The women, Hazel Johnson and Jacqueline O’Neal, were dead. We were about 10 minutes too late. The police had stopped him, but they let him go. This unnerved him, made him panic. He went straight home and killed them, and then he killed himself. We were too late.”

Scully blanched. “Mulder, that’s my fault. I told the police to find his truck.”

Mulder shook his head. “We had him, and then let him go. That is on me. If I had just answered the phone when you called, or listened to your messages sooner...”

Scully sighed. “I was trying to help, but I felt like I was letting you down. I should’ve come up there sooner, but I stayed away.”

He looked up from his plate and stared at her. “I know exactly how you feel.”

“You’ve never let me down, Mulder.”

“Yes, I have. Many times. And even if you didn’t feel that way, I felt that way. I’m not sure which is worse.”

Scully didn’t know what to say to that.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you on Friday,” Mulder said, his eyes returning to the food on the plate he’d had yet to touch.

She sighed. “Mulder, it’s okay. The transfer only takes about five minutes, anyways. It’s not something invasive. I was in and out of there. I knew you were working, and that it was important.”

He shook his head, his eyes filling with unshed tears. “Nothing is more important than you. And I got so wrapped up in this case that I forgot. I forgot about myself. Profiling… it can make you forget who you are, lose track of yourself. But I also forgot about you, and that’s even worse. I did need you, Scully. I needed your help. This case would’ve been solved so much sooner if I had just let you in. But I felt that profiling was something I had to keep you out of. Because I know what it does to me, and I didn't want that for you. And now those women are dead because of me.”

“Mulder, those women are dead because of Todd Berdella.” Scully looked at him and felt tears spring to her eyes, but she checked herself and blinked them back. She wished Mulder wouldn’t put the whole world on his shoulders. Scully watched Mulder staring at his plate of food, worn out and slumped over the table, and decided food could wait.

“You’re going to bed, Mulder,” Scully said, standing up from the table. “Right now.”

Mulder sighed and stood up from the table, before following Scully into the bedroom. After he sat on the bed, Scully started to undress him, removing his tie and unbuttoning his wrinkled white dress shirt before kneeling on the floor and removing his shoes, socks, and black suit pants. Scully turned down the covers, and Mulder got into bed.

To Mulder’s happy surprise, Scully got undressed and climbed into bed to lie down next to him. She immediately started yawning. She was so tired. Mulder looked at her, really looked at her. He saw that she too had dark circles under her eyes and obviously hadn’t slept much. He reached out and stroked her face, running his finger over and underneath her eyes, his own bloodshot eyes full of concern.

Scully shrugged, yawning and her eyes growing heavy. She had an explanation, but she thought it sounded too weak and silly. She decided to confess it anyways. “I can’t sleep without you anymore. Kind of stupid, huh?”

Mulder gave her a half smile and shook his head, his own eyes growing heavy with much-needed sleep. He didn't think it was stupid at all. He felt the same. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer to him, before lifting her leg over his hip and entwining his legs with hers. “I won’t forget you again, Scully,” he whispered. Mulder breathed in her scent and then fell asleep, Scully following soon afterwards.

*****

On Wednesday, December 22nd, Mulder and Scully drove towards Dr. Parenti’s office in College Park after leaving FBI headquarters at 5:00 pm. Scully was on the phone with her mother while Mulder drove.

“Yes, Mom. I’ll meet you at the airport.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. I can’t wait to see the twins!”

Scully smiled. “Me too.”

“I love you, honey.”

“Love you, too. Bye.” Scully hung up the phone.

He looked over at her. “Do you really think flying to San Diego is a good idea right now?”

Scully sighed. “Mulder, I have to go. It’s our turn to travel out there for Christmas. They’ll all think something is wrong if I don’t go.”

“Tell them you’re working on a case,” he said.

Scully glanced at him, and smirked. “Maybe the X-Files work as an excuse for you, but it doesn’t work with my family. There is no getting out of Christmas. Bill and Tara came out here last year, so we go to San Diego this year. Plus, it would be difficult for them to travel with the girls right now. They’re only two months old.”

Mulder grumbled. He then looked over at her as she stared out the window. She had looked so beautiful today. Even when her face screwed up every time she took a tip from her Gatorade bottle. Mulder found himself trying not to laugh at her discomfort as he sat across from her at his desk. He’d wanted so badly to touch her or kiss her, all day. They hadn’t had sex in over two weeks, the VCU case and then the IVF procedure preventing it. And tomorrow she was going to be flying to San Diego, not returning for almost a week.

Mulder was also trying to think of other things, so as not to panic, but the closer they got to Dr. Parenti’s the more his mind went into overdrive with fear and anxiety. He and Scully still hadn’t had any kind conversation about what would happen if she became pregnant. While this gave him a twinge of worry, he also didn’t think there was all that much to talk about. Did they need to have a conversation about what Scully expected from him? It’d be his child, and he’d help raise it. That’s how he saw it. He didn’t see her protesting this. And so as they drove into the parking lot of the Parenti Medical Group in College Park, Maryland, Mulder’s stomach was in a knot of anxiety as he knew it wouldn’t be long before he’d find out if he was going to be a father or not.

Scully wondered what would happen if she was pregnant, how things would change. But she pushed those thoughts away. She hadn’t felt any pregnancy symptoms, any signs to tell her that the IVF had worked. While she knew this was inconclusive, she was preparing to hear the worst. She hadn’t much hope. Scully thought of Mulder, and his prayers for a miracle. She hoped he wasn’t praying too hard, or too much. It is always the believers who end up crushed. Doubt and skepticism were certainly helpful tools at times.

As they sat in Dr. Parenti’s office, the news wasn’t good. Both her blood test and urine test came back negative; Scully wasn’t pregnant. Mulder blanched, but Scully simply stared at Dr. Parenti and nodded while he explained that this was only the second cycle. He wasn’t ready to give up, and there were more treatments he could try. He told Scully that she had by no means exhausted all of her options. She could only nod. She felt numb, and wanted to get out of that office right away.

The drive home to Georgetown was a silent one. Mulder kept glancing over at Scully, growing increasingly worried. She didn’t look at him, and she didn’t stare resolutely out her passenger side window in an attempt to her hide her face. She simply kept her face forward, watching the road. She hadn’t spoken a word since they left Dr. Parenti’s. She hadn’t cried. Mulder thought that he would’ve much preferred her to be emotional over this silence.

Scully was desperately trying to keep her emotions in check. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to break down. She had been expecting the worst all along. She’d known it was useless to hope. She wasn’t foolish enough to pray for miracles. She knew there was nothing to be done for her. Dr. Parenti didn’t want her to give up, but how many times was she supposed to go through this? How many times would her heart have to break before enough was enough? She knew Mulder wasn’t one to give up so easily, that he was relentless. Scully hoped that he would leave his relentlessness at work.

Mulder parked the car in front of her apartment building, and he walked with Scully up to her door. She was finding it harder to check her emotions, knew she’d be unable to hold back once she got inside. Scully didn’t want to weep in front of Mulder, to let him see just how hurt she was. She had to be the strong one. She wasn’t sure why. She trusted Mulder with her life, and she readily placed her safety in his hands. But then she realized that this was her physical safety, that she’d allowed him to provide comfort and safety in a physical way. Her emotional security was something else entirely, and was something she had never entrusted another human being with. Not even Mulder. She felt like she had started to, in small ways, over the past few months. But something inside her was compelling her to control herself, to keep him from seeing her grief.

Scully started to unlock her door, and then she turned around. “Mulder, please don’t take this the wrong way, but… I want to be alone.”

He looked down at her, sadness clutching at his heart, and nodded. “It’s okay, Scully. I understand.”

“Thank you,” Scully said.

He hesitated. “So, uh, I guess I’ll see you when you get back from San Diego.”

She nodded, hoping that Mulder would leave quickly. She felt like the dam was about to burst.

“Okay, then. Uh, I hope you have a nice time with your family.”

Scully swallowed, the lump growing in her throat. “Thanks, Mulder,” she replied, her voice cracking.

She turned and opened her apartment door, disappearing inside. He stood there staring at the door for a few seconds, before turning away to walk back outside to his car.

Scully’s grief overwhelmed her as soon as she shut the door behind her. She stood in the kitchen, tears pouring down her face. Why had she sent Mulder away? Did she really want to be alone? No, not really. She really did want Mulder there. She needed him there with her, but she pushed him away. She wondered if she’d ever be able to let go of the control, put down her walls instead of putting new ones up.

Mulder walked out of the apartment building and across the street to his car. He got in and sat in the driver’s seat, but couldn’t bring himself to start the engine. Did anything good ever come from them dealing with things separately, instead of together? He’d recently learned that the hard way in Silver Spring. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. The car door flew open and he got out, slamming it shut before walking back inside Scully’s apartment building. He didn’t bother with the elevators and walked up the stairwell to the 3rd floor. Once he reached apartment #35, he knocked with purpose.

Less than 30 seconds later, Scully opened the door and Mulder looked at her standing there, in the white button down blouse and black suit pants she’d been wearing all day, tears streaming down her face. Something deep in his chest clutched at him and ached. His face crumpled and he walked towards her, wrapping his arms around her. Mulder held her tight and buried his face in her shoulder as Scully cried against him.

At just past 6:00 am, Scully stood in her bedroom and watched him sleep. He had one pajama-covered leg sticking out of the covers and his firm chest was covered with a white t-shirt. He looked so peaceful, so beautiful. Mulder could be a father if he wanted to, and she knew he’d be a great one. She knew he could easily settle down with some woman who would give him children. But she knew that would never happen, and her heart broke for him. She wondered if she could continue to put him through this, put herself through this. She wasn’t sure if she was up to it. Scully then quietly left her bedroom, walked out of the apartment and drove to Washington Dulles International Airport, and boarded a plane with her mother for San Diego.


	49. "A nightmare born from deepest fears, coming to me unguarded. The journey ahead promising no more than my past reflecting back upon me. Until at last I reach the end, facing a truth I can no longer deny. Alone, as ever.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully spends Christmas in San Diego with her family. Mulder spends Christmas alone, mostly.
> 
> Another extra long chapter. Because it's Christmas. Well, at least in the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Linkin Park – “My December”
> 
> This is my December  
> This is my time of the year  
> This is my December  
> This is all so clear  
> This is my December  
> This is my snow covered home  
> This is my December  
> This is me alone
> 
> And I  
> Just wish that I didn't feel  
> Like there was something I missed  
> And I  
> Take back all the things I said  
> To make you feel like that  
> And I  
> Just wish that I didn't feel  
> Like there was something I missed  
> And I  
> Take back all the things that I said to you
> 
> And I'd give it all away  
> Just to have  
> Somewhere to go to  
> Give it all away  
> To have someone  
> To come home to
> 
> This is my December  
> These are my snow covered trees  
> This is me pretending  
> This is all I need
> 
> And I  
> Just wish that I didn't feel  
> Like there was something I missed  
> And I  
> Take back all the things I said  
> To make you feel like that  
> And I  
> Just wish that I didn't feel  
> Like there was something I missed  
> And I  
> Take back all the things that I said to you
> 
> And I'd give it all away  
> Just to have  
> Somewhere to go to  
> Give it all away  
> To have someone  
> To come home to
> 
> This is my December  
> This is my time of the year  
> This is my December  
> This is all so clear
> 
> Give it all away  
> Just to have  
> Somewhere to go to  
> Give it all away  
> To have someone  
> To come home to

On Thursday morning, December 23rd, Mulder awoke in Scully’s apartment to find that she was gone. She’d gotten dressed, grabbed her packed weekender bag, and left for San Diego, not to return until Wednesday night. Without so much as a goodbye to him. Mulder felt anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach, also accompanied by a knot of fear. But he wasn’t exactly sure what he was afraid of. He got on his cell phone and called Scully, knowing she was most likely on the plane, and it went straight to voicemail.

“What the fuck, Scully?” Mulder ranted. “Why would you do that? You could’ve woken me up and said goodbye. Goddammit.” He then hung up the phone.

Scully had mourned most of the previous evening, and Mulder had mourned with her, but then she turned quiet and didn’t say much for the rest of the night. She was inside her head, shutting him out and not sharing what she was going through. Mulder knew that he did the same thing. He was guilty of silence, and distance. Why was it so hard for them to just talk about the things they need to talk about? Because they didn’t talk about the failed IVF or whether Scully wanted to try again. He didn’t want to give up. Dr. Parenti seemed positive that there was still hope for successful IVF treatment.

But Scully didn’t seem too positive. She seemed numb with her grief, distancing herself from him, and he felt helpless. Mulder also felt like something might have shifted between them. As if the ‘honeymoon period’ was over, for lack of a better term, and reality had swept in with its disappointment and crushed hopes. This newly indefinable thing between them started when the previous attempt failed, grief demanding comfort. Would grief be the reason it ends? What if Scully decided that she doesn’t want to try again? She wouldn’t… change her mind about this recent transition to their partnership, would she? She wouldn’t pull away from him? And Mulder felt the knot of fear tighten.

He headed home to his apartment, got dressed and went in to work. Headquarters wasn’t so busy, with most agents and administrative staff traveling for the Christmas holiday. Mulder thought about going to Connecticut to see his mother, but then thought better of it. He hated Christmas, well, he had always hated it ever since Samantha’s abduction. For most of his youth and young adulthood, he hated the tension and awkwardness of splitting holidays between two parents. But it didn’t matter which parent he was with, there wasn’t much joy and good cheer going on. Once he’d left home and moved to New York City to attend NYU, he tried his hardest to avoid going home for Christmas. The same had been true when at Oxford, and spanned into the years afterwards.

But as much as he told himself that he hated the holidays, and found absolutely no meaning to them, Mulder knew deep down that this was because the holidays were so synonymous with family and he didn’t have one. This left him with feelings of emptiness, and loneliness, that he promptly suppressed. But the older he got, the more this empty feeling around the holidays grew. He didn’t even fully realize it until last Christmas. The best Christmas he’d had, since he was a child, had been last year. Sure, some ghosts in a haunted house fucked with his and Scully’s heads, but it hadn’t turned out so bad. He’d actually enjoyed himself, overall. But only because Scully had been there. As Mulder sat at his desk, reading his email, he thought that maybe the holidays had grown increasingly empty and lonely because she was always off with her family, and he spent them alone, without her.

*****

When Scully and her mother arrived at the San Diego International Airport on Thursday morning, she was surprised that Bill Jr had been extremely polite, even gentlemanly, towards her when he picked them up. He hadn’t behaved that way in quite some time, not since she’d been out here two Christmases ago. She was trying hard not to think about that, not to think about Emily. But spending Christmas in San Diego was bringing up those memories, and she didn’t have the fortitude to push them away. She felt emotionally exhausted, and was thankful that Bill Jr hadn’t greeted her with restrained civility.

On their car ride from the airport to the US Naval Station, Scully checked her voicemail. She heaved a sigh after listening to Mulder’s message, and then turned off her phone. She’d thought about saying goodbye, but then changed her mind. She didn’t want to see any more pain and disappointment in his face. She fervently hoped that by the time she got back from San Diego, they both would be in the position to just put this failed IVF behind them and not have to talk about it.

She honestly wanted to be anywhere but surrounded by people, especially the penetrating gazes of her family members. This holiday weekend in San Diego was going to be all Christmas parties and church events. Part of Scully was thankful for the distraction, but a large part of her wanted to be alone. She wished she could just stay in bed or lie on the couch, and not get up for days. What could she even contribute to the holiday cheer? She had nothing to offer, no energy left.

Upon arriving at Bill and Tara’s house, Scully and her mother were excitedly greeted by Tara, who was holding Matthew. His 2nd birthday was in a few days. Bill and Tara were having a party next Sunday to celebrate, and Scully was thankful that she would be going home to D.C. before New Year’s. She didn’t know if she could cope with a houseful of young parents and their small children.

Later that evening, after eating dinner together as a family, she helped Tara with the two-month-old twin girls, Eleanor and Delphine. Tara’s beloved maternal grandmother, Delphine du Pont, who was born to French immigrants and raised in New Orleans, had passed away right around the time Bill and Tara learned they were having two girls. To Tara’s bemusement, Bill Jr wanted to name the other twin after Eleanor Roosevelt. Scully fondly remembered the amusing phone conversation with Tara when the two had discussed this several months ago. But Tara let Bill Jr have his way. She didn’t care one way or the other about Eleanor Roosevelt, but she thought the two names did sound nice together.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Dana,” said Tara sweetly, as she bent over the bathtub next to Scully while they gave the twins a bath.

She gave Tara a half smile. “Me too.”

“So… how’s that cute partner of yours?” Tara asked, winking at Scully.

Scully felt her stomach tighten. Jennifer wouldn’t have told Tara. Would she? “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Tara chuckled. “I’m just asking after him. What’s he doing for Christmas?”

She relaxed. “Oh, he’s all right. Um, I’m not sure, exactly. He might be going to his mother’s house in Connecticut, but I don’t know.”

Tara chuckled again. “What do you mean, you don’t know? Don’t you two talk to each other?”

Scully didn’t know how to respond to that, so she just chuckled along with Tara. Did her and Mulder talk? They talked about work, current events, theories, facts, and ideas. But they didn’t really have a lot of personal conversations; they didn’t talk much about their lives, and they certainly didn’t talk about their feelings. But they had a secret language all their own, a language of facial expressions and gestures, pointed looks and light physical contact that could convey a number of different meanings. Even just one word could denote so many different things. Scully knew that she could simply say “Mulder,” and not only could this have more depth and meaning than an entire speech, but it could have so many different meanings depending on her tone of voice and the look on her face. But Scully wondered if this thing between them would ever contain real personal communication, and not just intense gazing and a lot of sex. Well, at least there had been a lot up until three weeks ago. There hadn’t been much since.

Tara sighed, as she used the bath sponge to gently wash Delphine’s skin. “I’m so happy, Dana.”

She turned to look at her sister-in-law, her blond hair pulled back from her tired face with an elastic band, and smiled. “I can tell. I’m very happy for you.”

“Thanks, sweetie. There’s no greater joy than being a mother.”

Scully nodded, turning her attention back to the bathtub and a fidgeting Eleanor.

Tara glanced at her. “Dana, do you, um, ever think about trying to adopt again?”

She looked at Tara in surprise. “Adopt again?"

“Yeah. I know things didn’t work out with Emily,” Tara sighed. “That poor little girl. But have you thought about adopting a child? I don’t see why it wouldn’t be possible.”

The thought had never even crossed Scully’s mind. “Uh, no, Tara, I haven’t thought about it. I don’t know, it just… it doesn’t appeal to me right now.”

Tara nodded. The idea of raising a child that wasn’t hers didn’t have the same appeal to Scully as having a child of her own with Mulder. And how would he even feel about her doing that? They hadn't even had a conversation about what he would or wouldn't do concerning a biological child. Scully sighed. She didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to think about Mulder, and IVF, and having children right now. She wanted nothing more than to forget about it for a while, but that was proving impossible.

“So, what else is new?” Tara asked, picking Delphine up out of the tub. “Are you seeing anybody?”

Scully hesitated, also lifting Eleanor up and wrapping a towel around her. “Um, no. I’m not seeing anyone.”

Tara sighed. “I want to apologize again for what Bill did, getting that police officer to ask you out. I know he can be overbearing, and sometimes he refuses to accept that you’re a grown woman with her own life. Sometimes he just refuses to take those big brother blinders off.”

“It’s okay, really,” she chuckled. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Scully and Tara then brought the twins into the nursery, and laid them down to sleep in their cribs.

The following night, Bill and Tara had their annual Christmas Eve party. Close friends, including some navy buddies and their wives, gathered with the Scullys to celebrate. Over the course of the evening, Scully made casual conversation with Bill and Tara’s guests, some of whom she’d known since she was a teenager living out there in San Diego. At 10:15 pm, the Scullys piled into Tara’s minivan and took the 10 minute drive to St. Joseph’s Cathedral for Midnight Mass.

Once they arrived at the church and found their regular pew, they started to visit with some parishioners seated nearby. As Scully looked around, she noticed that her mother was missing. She walked to the back of the Nave and found her mother standing at a large side altar in front of a statue of Jesus, which held long tapered votive candles. She stood next to her mother, watching her move from candle to candle, lighting them. When she observed her mother lighting the 15th candle, Scully gave her a puzzled look.

Maggie glanced at her and smiled. “For Fox.”

Scully stared at her. “You’re lighting a prayer candle for Mulder? Why?”

“I do every year, honey.”

This was news to her. “What… what do you pray for?”

“Oh, the usual. I pray for God to protect him, so that he can protect you. But, um, this year my prayer was a little different, I’m not sure why. Maybe because of finally having him over for Thanksgiving. But I simply prayed that he find some love and happiness.”

Scully felt her eyes start to well up with tears, and she hastily blinked them back.

Maggie eyed her daughter. “Are you going to light some candles, Dana?”

She sighed. What’s the point? The sound of Midnight Mass about to start saved Scully from having to answer. When Mass concluded an hour later, and the Scullys made their way out of the church along with the other parishioners, Scully glanced over at the side altar in front of the statue of Jesus, and its prayer candles. She stopped and stared at it. She turned her head towards her family as they were walking away from her, unaware that she had remained behind, and then looked back at the altar. She walked over to it, and after performing the sign of the cross, she lit one candle and said one prayer: that Mulder would someday, somehow, be a father. After performing the sign of the cross one last time, she walked out of the church and joined the rest of her family.

*****

Mulder had spent as much time as possible in the basement office, so as to spend as little time as possible at home in his empty apartment. He spent all of Thursday cooped up in the office reading old case files, looking for possible connections or answers he may have overlooked years ago, and didn’t return to his apartment until well after 8:00 pm and fell asleep on the couch sometime after 2:00 am, waking up just four short hours later.

The same had been true of Christmas Eve; he stayed in the office all day long on Friday and well into the evening. He set about stripping the office in search of cameras and microphones, and thankfully none were found. When he returned home from the hospital back in the summer, he’d removed several. He’d periodically checked the office since then, but none had returned. Maybe Scully had been right. Those men, most of them, were all dead, their conspiracy crushed, and maybe the government just didn’t care about him and Scully anymore.

So who or what was left to fight? Was the only purpose left just to find out what happened to Samantha? Would he ever find out? Who even knew the truth? Maybe Cancer Man, but there’s no telling where he’s at these days. He seemed to have disappeared. It’s not like he’d get the truth from him anyways, even if he did know it. His mother might know some things, but what are the chances she’ll ever tell him what she knew?

Mulder swiveled his desk chair around to stare at his “I Want to Believe” poster. If the conspiracy was dead, then… there would be invasion, colonization. With the Consortium gone, who was left to stall, to postpone? Had Kurtzweil been right? A specific date was set? When? He had said a national holiday. But… which one? How far off into the future? Mulder grabbed his cell phone and dialed Scully, but it went straight to voicemail.

He hesitated. Did she really want her Christmas Eve interrupted with messages from him about conspiracies and alien invasions? “Scully, um…,” he sighed, his voice then turning sad. “I’m sorry, Scully.” And he hung up the phone. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was apologizing for, but he felt that an apology was necessary. Guilt had been bubbling in the pit of his stomach, which he’d been desperately trying to ignore ever since that drive home from Dr. Parenti’s office. Mulder quickly pushed it from his mind. He returned home to his apartment on Hegal Place in Alexandria around 9:00 pm, sighing as he walked through the door. He wished Scully was there. He walked over to his desk and hit the play button on his answering machine.

“Hello, Fox. It’s your mother. I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. I hope you’re taking care of yourself. Give me a call when you get a chance.”

He sighed. He should call her. He hadn’t talked to her in a while. The sound of Langly’s voice then filled the living room.

“Mulder, Merry Christmas! We haven’t seen you in long time. What’s up with that? Oh, uh, Frohike wants to know why you haven’t been around and why you’ve been keeping Agent Scully from us. You should bring her over one of these days. It’ll at least get Frohike to stop whining. Anyways, Byers is spending the weekend in Sterling, Virginia with his folks. If you’re not doing anything special, we’re having our annual tradition of watching every episode of _The Twilight Zone._ Come on over. Oh, delete this message after you listen to it.”

He deleted his messages, and walked into the kitchen. He then fixed chicken noodle soup from a can and a turkey sandwich for his dinner, and sat down in front of the television. _Merry fucking Christmas to me._ Almost everything on the TV was holiday-themed, and so he settled on the _Battlestar Gallactica_ marathon on the Sci-Fi Channel. At around midnight, Mulder turned the lights off and lowered the volume on the television, and laid down on the couch, eventually falling asleep a couple hours later. He woke up sometime around 4:30 am, but slipped back into unconsciousness soon afterwards.

_Mulder was walking down the beach. It felt so good to be here. The salty breeze, the warm sun. He was calm, at peace. He soon spotted Scully in the distance, a bit farther down, and walked towards her. Upon sight of Scully sitting on the sand, his heart swelled and a warm glow filled his chest. She was looking away from him and didn’t notice that he'd approached. Her red hair was longer, past her shoulders, and she was wearing a pair of blue jeans with a white short-sleeved shirt. He liked that she was dressed casually, relaxed. Work was far, far away from here._

_Scully turned to him and smiled, but there was some sadness there in her eyes. Mulder didn’t know why. She motioned for him to sit next to her, and he got down on the sand by her side. Scully scooched closer to him, and crooked her elbow around his arm, threading the fingers of her hand with his, and smiled at him again. Mulder then sensed that something wasn’t right. The sand UFO wasn’t there. The eight year old boy, he wasn’t there either. Where was he? Mulder started to look around him, searching for the boy. Scully then pointed in the direction she’d been looking when he first came upon her. And there he was, farther down the beach. The boy was younger now, maybe four or five years old, and he was with a man and a woman. Mulder didn’t recognize them. The boy was happy, running his feet into the water and then frantically running back towards the couple, laughing. Why wasn’t the boy with him and Scully? This felt wrong.  
_

_Mulder looked down at Scully, and her sad smile was back. “He’ll be okay, Mulder.”  
_

_As he watched the boy laughing with the couple, the man picking him up while the woman wiped the wet sand off his feet with a towel, Mulder knew Scully was right. He knew the boy was happy, and Mulder sensed that he was well cared for by this couple. But it was wrong. All wrong. Why had the boy left them? And why had he grown younger, instead of older? Why couldn’t the boy be with him and Scully? He belonged to them. How did this even happen? Had Mulder done something wrong? He was trying to remember, but there were no answers. Mulder stood up and tried to call out to the boy, but he realized he didn’t know what to call him. What was the boy’s name? Mulder didn’t know. How could he not know? He started to panic._

Mulder jerked awake on the couch, his eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight filling his living room through his snow-covered windows. He glanced at his watch; it was 10:38 am on Christmas Day. The details of the dream were slipping away but the panic remained, which was soon replaced by guilt. Mulder blamed himself entirely for the failed IVF. He never should’ve taken on that VCU case. He should’ve stayed with Scully. He’d only caused her stress and worry at a time when her attentions should’ve been focused elsewhere. The IVF process is so time-consuming, and not to mention expensive, that for him to just throw a monkey wrench into the works by absorbing himself in that case was foolish, not to mention insensitive and unkind. What if the IVF was going to work that time? And because he couldn’t turn down the profiling request, a child was lost? The boy was gone, taken from them. Mulder spent the rest of the day on the couch, drowning in misery.

By 9:00 pm, Mulder desperately needed to get out of his own head. He showered, brushed his teeth, dressed in his dark blue jeans, charcoal gray sweater, and black coat, and then headed out the door. After hailing a taxi to D.C., he ended up at The Lantern in Mount Vernon Square. Unsurprisingly, he found the bar fairly busy. Sure, it was mostly quiet around the city on Christmas. Most businesses were closed, including the government, as employees and workers gathered with their friends and families for feasts and gift-giving. Even people who don’t celebrate Christmas take the day off. But a series of bars and pubs in the city had created a small niche for themselves on Christmas Day, opening at 8:00 or 9:00 pm and closing down around 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning. After a few years, Christmas Day bar-hopping became quite a social scene, attracting people who either hadn’t traveled home for the holiday, or for family and friends to go out together at night once the holiday had been celebrated.

Mulder sat at the bar and ordered a beer. An hour later, after three beers consumed, he decided he needed something stronger to quiet his mind, and ordered a couple shots. After some time went by, someone sat down on the barstool to his right. Mulder smelled perfume, something flowery. He then heard a familiar musical voice order a vodka martini. He turned his head and stared in surprise. He took in the familiar pretty face, with its smooth ivory skin that was a stark contrast from the long, dark brown hair beside it, its high cheek bones and defined jawline, aquiline nose, full red lips, its shaped, dark eyebrows, and long, dark eyelashes surrounding chocolate brown irises.

“Hi, Mulder,” Natalie said, smiling.

Mulder stared, his eyes quickly running over her mini dress. It was sleeveless, and had a deep V plunge neck, exposing an ample amount of cleavage, in some kind of black polyester/spandex material to the waist, where it was attached to a tight skirt of red velvet. “Agent Black.”

“Natalie. So you didn’t go home either, I take it?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.

Mulder shook his head. His brain was fuzzy, and his tongue felt heavy.

“Yeah, me neither. My parents went on a holiday cruise with their Bridge club.” Natalie rolled her eyes. “I’m here with some friends.”

Mulder continued to stare. “You don’t have, uh, any brothers or sisters?”

Natalie hesitated. “Um… I did have an older brother. Jeremy. But… he was murdered seven years ago. Well, almost eight, now.”

His eyes widened in shock. “What?”

She nodded. “Yeah. He got involved with the wrong people. He married this girl right out of high school, and her family were drug traffickers. He got into the, uh, family business. A drug deal went bad and he was murdered by a sociopath out in Vegas.”

He didn’t know what to say. “I… oh, wow. That’s terrible. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” Natalie said with a small smile. “Yeah, it was brutal. Even just the way he was killed, but I’ll spare you the details. I was a freshman at the University of Alabama when it happened, right before final exams if you can imagine. That was a whole other nightmare. Anyways, I had been thinking of majoring in English literature, but after what happened to my brother I decided on criminal justice.”

Mulder nodded, sighing. “I can see why.”

At that moment, they were interrupted.

“Well, well, well, look who it is. Agent Mulder. Hiya, buddy.”

He turned to see Agent Sam Cole standing there, his black hair wet from the falling snow outside and his blue eyes grinning at him. He inwardly groaned. _Buddy, my ass._

“So, uh, who’s your date?” Sam asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Before Mulder could correct him, Natalie spoke up and held out her hand to Sam. “Agent Natalie Black.”

Sam stared. “Oh, ho, ho, really? You don’t say? Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Natalie.”

Mulder watched as Sam turned to give a pointed look to the two people standing next to him, whom he hadn’t even noticed until now, and saw Agent Brewer roll her eyes at Sam.

“I’m Agent Sam Cole. This here is my partner, Agent Sarah Brewer, and her husband, Jason. They were nice enough to keep me company tonight. My parents went to Germany to visit my sister and her husband, who’s stationed there.”

Natalie then shook hands with Sarah and Jason. “Nice to meet you.”

“Anyways, we’ll let you two lovebirds alone,” Sam said, winking. He then walked away with Agent Brewer and her husband following behind him, Mulder staring after them with a stony expression.

“I’m sorry about him,” Mulder apologized to Natalie.

She smiled, eyes twinkling at him. “That’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Mulder, glancing at the clock with slightly blurred vision, and noticing it was almost midnight, thought that now was a good time to leave and pulled out his wallet. “Well, it was, uh… nice running into you. I should get going.”

Natalie then placed her left hand on Mulder’s thigh, her face full of suggestiveness. “You don’t _really_ want to be alone tonight, do you?”

He stared at her.

*****

Mulder was lying in his bed, and he felt sick. He was sweating, his ears were ringing, and his head throbbed in pain. Suddenly a female voice whispered in his left ear, “I can make you feel so much better.”

“Get Scully,” he croaked. “I need Scully.”

“I can look after you,” the voice whispered.

A blurred vision of a pretty face and dark hair swam in front of his eyes. His head was killing him and he slammed his eyes shut, but not before noticing that the body attached to the face was clearly wearing a bra with nothing over the top of it.

“I know what you want,” she whispered. “I know what you need. Let me give it to you.”

“Scully,” Mulder groaned. “Want Scully.”

Suddenly he felt more comfortable, the cool air caressing his overheated skin.

“I’m going to make you feel a lot better,” the voice whispered.

He then felt something warm at his groin, and his eyes flew open to see a dark head of hair hovering over the crotch of his boxer briefs. He jolted upright to push it away. “What are you doing? Get Scully!”

Mulder lurched off the couch, falling to the floor and pushing aside the coffee table on his way down. What had he done? Oh, no. Oh, no. He frantically sat up, looking around his living room. Oh, God. What happened at the bar? He got up off the floor and walked into the bedroom, but no one was in there. He walked out and went into the kitchen; no one there either. There was no sign that anyone other than him had been there.

He sat on the couch, breathing hard. He noticed that he didn’t feel sick, and his head felt fine. He looked down and saw he was still wearing the same clothes from earlier. His mind went back to the bar.

_“You don’t **really** want to be alone tonight, do you?” Natalie asked._

_No, he didn’t want to be alone tonight. He didn’t want to go home to an empty apartment. Deep down he too had wished that he had somewhere to go for Christmas, somewhere that wasn’t Greenwich, Connecticut, somewhere there was love and family instead of bitter memories. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted Scully.  
_

_He stood up, pulling himself away from Natalie’s hand, and placed some cash on the bar. “Goodnight, Agent Black.”_

_He then unsteadily walked out of the bar, grabbing his jacket from the rack, and headed outside to a taxi sitting on the curb, before getting in and making his way back home to Alexandria. He then crashed on his couch, his tired brain and the alcohol in his veins allowing him to succumb to sleep soon afterwards._

Mulder breathed a sigh of relief. He had been dreaming, or well, maybe he’d only been half-asleep, swimming in and out of consciousness. It had seemed too real. But that woman wasn’t Natalie Black. It was Diana. Something had triggered that memory from when Diana had found him in that stairwell at American University and took him home, before he went into the hospital.

He glanced at his watch; it was 5:42 am. He wondered why Scully hadn’t called him, and hoped it was because she was too busy with family and not because she didn’t want to. He now wished he hadn't left her that angry voicemail on Thursday morning. But he also wished he'd been able to say goodbye to her before she left, held her, kissed her; something, anything. He missed her, and hoped that the next few days went by quickly. Deep down, Mulder hoped that Scully missed him too.

*****

Christmas Day had been a busy one for the Scullys. The early Saturday morning was spent opening presents, and then everyone watched _Toy Story,_ which had been chosen by Matthew, in the living room. Charlie and Jennifer called, and they all got to talk on speaker phone for a little while. Maggie and Scully cooked a big breakfast for everyone, and then at 11:30 am the family headed out to serve lunch at a homeless women’s shelter run by the Catholic Charities Diocese of San Diego. They then enjoyed a relaxing afternoon at home before sitting down to Christmas dinner.

Later that night, Scully lied awake in bed next her mother in the guestroom, unable to sleep. She wondered what the coming year had in store for her, whether it would be better, or worse, or stay the same. She then quickly added ‘staying the same’ in the worse category. What was even happening with Mulder? Where was it going? What was the end result? Did it even have a destination? Was there some personal goal they were working towards? Why didn’t he ever talk about it? But then again, why should she even expect him to when it was so difficult for her to speak? What did she even want? Where was her life heading? Where did she see herself five years from now? Ten? She didn’t know. Did she want to try IVF again? She didn’t think she was up to it.

Scully then heard a twin crying, loudly, right next door to the guestroom. She rolled out of bed. Bill Jr and Tara deserve a much needed break. She walked into the nursery as the one twin’s cries awoke the other, and then two babies were crying. She had no idea how Tara did this every day. As Scullt bent over Eleanor’s crib to pick her up, Bill Jr came through the door.

“Hey, I didn’t expect to see you in here,” he whispered.

Scully gave him a half smile. “Oh, well, I was awake, and I want to help out while I’m out here.”

Bill Jr nodded, picking up Delphine from her crib and soothing her. “So, Dana, how are you?”

“I’m okay, Bill,” she whispered, walking around the room in circles, rocking Eleanor.

Bill Jr sighed. “You don’t seem okay.”

She felt tears prick her eyes, and blinked them back. Bill Jr was not one for emotional scenes. She hadn’t cried in front of him since she was a child, and Bill Jr would harshly mock her for it. Scully quickly learned that emotional displays weren’t welcomed by him, and from then on kept them hidden from his sight. “I’m all right, Bill. Honestly.”

“You always were a terrible liar, Dana.”

Scully sighed.

“Is it Mulder?” Bill Jr asked, a hint of scorn in his tone. “What did he do this time?”

She sighed again. “Mulder didn’t do anything, Bill. He’s actually been… great, lately. I have no real cause for complaint as far as Mulder is concerned.”

Bill Jr eyed his younger sister. “You know, uh, I was thinking of inviting Jonathan Kresge over for dinner while you’re here. What do you think?”

She stared at him. “I’d really rather you didn’t, Bill.”

“Didn’t you have a nice time? He told me that he had a good time.”

Scully grimaced at the idea of her brother discussing her dating life. Nothing ever changed. Whenever Bill Jr had come home from the navy for a family visit, and Scully happened to be dating someone, Bill Jr would read him the riot act. In many ways, Bill Jr was even more stern and threatening towards these young men than her father. She’d never experienced Bill Jr actually trying to push a man her way. His hatred of Mulder must be stronger than she’d originally thought.

“Yes, I had a nice time. But I’m just not interested. Please, _please,_ don’t invite him over here, Bill.”

"Okay, Dana, I won’t," Bill Jr sighed. “Hey, uh, can you believe I'm turning 40 next month?”

Scully chuckled. "You were 13 going on 40, so it's about time you caught up."

The twins finally went back to sleep, and Bill and Scully laid them back down in their cribs. They then left the nursery, Bill Jr heading towards his and Tara’s bedroom. He then turned, and looked back at her.

“I just want you to be happy, Dana,” Bill Jr whispered. “You know that, right?”

She looked at her big brother. “Yes, Bill. I know.”

Bill Jr gave her a small smile, and then disappeared behind the master bedroom door. Scully felt tears once again filling her eyes and instead of heading back to the guestroom, she quietly walked downstairs to the living room and sat down on the couch, her legs bent under her. She could no longer suppress her disquieting thoughts, and allowed herself to feel what she was feeling, allowed the tears to fall as her mind raced.

Scully was annoyed with herself. What was wrong with her? Why didn’t she have enough desire to keep trying for a baby? Every parent she knew always told her that their children were their greatest joys in life. So why did she want to give up after only two attempts? Even after meeting other women in the waiting room at Dr. Parenti’s office who had excitedly told her that they’d gotten pregnant with their babies after the fourth or fifth IVF cycle. Did she want to try that many times? Was putting herself and Mulder through the emotional wringer worth it? Could she even afford to keep trying and trying until she’d sunk $20,000 into this? And then what? End up with what she’d started with: nothing. Alone, just like she’d always been.

Scully also felt sad; sad that she’d never have the shared experience of creation with Mulder, she’d never experience pregnancy, feeling a life growing inside her, the nine month excitement and anticipation of the baby’s arrival, the miracle of childbirth, breastfeeding and a new mother’s love hormones, the unconditional love given and received from a child. Mothers, to her, had always seemed so womanly, so strong, so powerful, just like her own. She’d never know what that was like. She’d never know what it was like to give birth and then raise a child, and this often made her feel isolated from other women. And she felt like maybe this was a big reason why it seemed so difficult to continue trying. She really didn’t know, and would never know, what it was like to be a mother. She’d never truly know what she was missing out on, as motherhood would always be a foreign concept.

But Scully was still afraid of ending up alone. If she were to ever lose Mulder, she would have no children, no immediate family of her own. One day, one of them would die and leave the other all alone. She couldn’t bear the thought, the debilitating fear of loss clutching at her heart and fresh tears leaking from her eyes. The idea that she and Mulder would leave behind no heritage, that the two of them would just disappear and no one would ever remember them, was so strange to her. It couldn’t be possible, but that was the reality that lay in front of them.

The thought of Mulder never being a father filled Scully with such anguish, she had to stifle a sob. He would be such a wonderful father. He would be the best provider, protector, teacher, and friend that a child could wish for. His moral character and affectionate disposition would make for a safe and happy home. He deserved to be a father, he deserved a family of his own.

Scully’s emotional release soon allowed her brain to rest, and she became tired enough for sleep. She then lied down on the couch, pulling a blanket over her, and slipped into unconsciousness while counting the days until she returned home to Mulder.


	50. “I guess I never realized how much I rely on him before this, his passion. He's been a great source of strength that I've drawn on.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully investigate an X-file, and spend New Year's Eve together. 
> 
> This chapter contains some sexually explicit material.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise to the episode "Millennium" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Vince Gilligan and Frank Spotnitz, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> Sidenote: If you are anything like me, then you no doubt shouted "Oh, my God, that's Octavia Spencer! I love her!" upon re-watching this episode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billy Joel - "And So It Goes"
> 
> In every heart there is a room  
> A sanctuary safe and strong  
> To heal the wounds from lovers past  
> Until a new one comes along
> 
> I spoke to you in cautious tones  
> You answered me with no pretense  
> And still I feel I said too much  
> My silence is my self defense
> 
> And every time I've held a rose  
> It seems I only felt the thorns  
> And so it goes, and so it goes  
> And so will you soon I suppose
> 
> But if my silence made you leave  
> Then that would be my worst mistake  
> So I will share this room with you  
> And you can have this heart to break
> 
> And this is why my eyes are closed  
> It's just as well for all I've seen  
> And so it goes, and so it goes  
> And you're the only one who knows
> 
> So I would choose to be with you  
> That's if the choice were mine to make  
> But you can make decisions too  
> And you can have this heart to break
> 
> And so it goes, and so it goes  
> And you're the only one who knows

On Wednesday morning, December 29th, Tara drove Scully and Maggie to the airport, as Bill Jr was occupied at the Naval Station, and when Tara gave Scully a hug goodbye, it was unexpectedly emotional.

“I hope I’ll see you again soon,” Tara said to Scully, pulling out of the hug. “I loved having you here.”

“Thanks, I hope so too,” Scully replied. “It was good to be back.”

“And thanks for all your help with Matthew and the girls,” said Tara. “It was so nice to get a little time to myself.”

Scully smiled. “No need to thank me. I enjoyed it.”

Tara nodded, and seemed like she was debating something.

“Well, I’ll call you when we land in D.C., so you know we made it all right,” Scully said, turning slightly to head towards the Departure doors.

“Dana…,” Tara spoke hesitantly, her eyes growing shiny and wet.

Scully turned her full attention back to her sister-in-law.

“You’ll make a wonderful mother someday,” Tara said confidently.

Scully gave her a half smile, and nodded. Tara smiled. And Scully walked into the airport to join her mother.

At just past 6:00 pm, Scully and her mother departed Dulles Airport upon arriving from San Diego, and drove to Alexandria. Despite the horrid timing with everything Scully had been dealing with, not to mention waking up on the morning of Christmas Eve to the arrival of her menstrual period, she did enjoy being back in San Diego and spending time with Tara and the kids. Even being around Bill Jr for nearly a week wasn’t all that bad, surprisingly.

Once Scully had dropped her mother off at her home, she debated whether or not to drive across town to Mulder’s apartment. She wanted to see him, badly. He hadn’t called her since that voicemail he’d left on Christmas Eve apologizing. But she hadn’t called him either. Despite there being 2700 miles between them, Scully felt that with each passing day their silence became more deafening. Doubt and anxiety filled her mind as she decided against showing up at Mulder’s apartment, and after leaving her mother’s driveway she drove home to Georgetown.

When Scully walked through her apartment door 20 minutes later, she half-expected Mulder to be there waiting for her. But he wasn’t. Scully unpacked her bag, and after taking a shower, she got dressed into her flannel pajamas and went out to the living room. She covered her legs with a navy blue wool blanket, and turned on the television. She stared at the cordless phone on the coffee table, willing it to ring, but knowing she couldn’t bring herself to pick it up and call him. What would she even say? Scully had no idea how to put into words whatever it was she wanted to express to Mulder. The only things she could think of saying were silly and sentimental, like how much she missed him, and she was decidedly against saying any such thing.

Scully wondered how things would be in the office tomorrow morning, if there would be tension or awkwardness. She hoped that Mulder wasn’t angry with her for being incommunicado all week, and she then felt a little guilty knowing that Mulder had most likely been all alone the entire time she’d been gone. Maybe she should’ve called him from San Diego, and talked things out with him on the phone.

She wondered how Mulder felt about the failed IVF, whether he still wanted to keep trying, whether he was still praying for miracles. Scully rolled her eyes. She didn’t want to live her life as if expecting some miracle pregnancy could occur at any moment. She just wanted to live. She just wanted a life. But what did Mulder want? Did he even want a real life? What if he didn’t want to keep trying? What if he’d given up on miracles? Despite Scully’s own belief that hoping for miracles was foolish, the thought of Mulder no longer believing filled her with a deep sense of sadness.

By 10:00 pm, Scully was in bed. At 4:50 am, her telephone finally rang.

“Hello?” she answered groggily.

“Hey, Scully, it’s me.”

“Mulder?” Scully said, blinking herself awake.

“I’m at the airport about to board a flight to Tallahassee. I got you a ticket for the 7:00 am flight.”

Scully sat up in bed. “What’s going on?”

“An X-File. After you arrive, meet me at Roselawn Cemetery.”

“What’s this about, Mulder?”

“Uh, Scully, I’m getting on the plane now. So I’ll have to explain when you get here.”

Scully sighed as Mulder hung up the phone.

*****

At 10:30 am on December 30th, Scully arrived at Roselawn Cemetery in Tallahassee, Florida. She was greeted by an obvious crime scene, with police tape and law enforcement milling about. As Scully approached the police tape and a young police officer, she showed her FBI badge to gain admittance, and ducked under the tape. As she made her way towards the open gravesite, a man dressed in a suit who looked to be in his 40’s stopped her.

“Are you with the FBI, too?” he asked, clearly upset.

Scully looked at him in slight surprise. “Yes, sir.”

“Look. I know my job. The man was deceased.”

She gave him a puzzled look. “I'm sorry?”

“I understand that he was one of your own,” he said, exasperated. “But these rumors I'm hearing that I put a living human being into the ground? You people better get your facts straight real fast.”

He then walked away from her. Scully, guessing he was the funeral director, now understood. Oh, brother. What was Mulder up to now? With a resigned look on her face, she walked over to the open grave. There she found Mulder, wearing the cornflower blue dress shirt she especially liked as well as rubber-soled shoes and latex gloves, inside the grave looking at the now-empty coffin.

“Mulder, have you been spreading rumors?”

“Why? You hear any good ones lately?” Mulder bantered, without looking up at her. He felt butterflies fill his stomach at the sound of her voice.

“Not particularly,” Scully replied. “So what do you have here?”

“Merry Christmas, by the way, Scully,” Mulder said, wondering if next year they’d actually get to spend it together and hoping that she would actually want to.

Scully gave a slight smile. “Thank you. Merry Christmas to you, too.”

“Grave robbery with a twist,” Mulder said, standing up to open the casket. “Check out the headliner, Scully.”

Mulder lifted the lid and showed her that the headliner in the coffin had been torn as if by fingers.

Scully nodded. “Well, it looks like someone on the inside was trying to get out.”

“Indeed it does,” Mulder said before closing the lid and looking up at her. “To answer your question, no, I haven't been spreading any rumors. The local PD's been doing a pretty good job of that ever since they matched the fingerprints of the dead man to these. And to those up there on that headstone. There's a big juicy handprint on the back.”

Scully walked around to the gravestone for Raymond Crouch and saw the hand print as Mulder climbed the ladder out of the grave. “What about the person or persons who did the digging?”

“Well, got one pile of dirt,” Mulder replied. “I'm guessing one man with a shovel. Other than that last night's rain hasn't left us much to go on. Well, go ahead, Scully, naysay me. The body of an FBI agent gets disinterred only to climb out on its own and disappear into the Yuletide night.”

Scully gave him a slight smile. “See, you had me up until there.”

“Did I?” Mulder asked with quiet surprise.

“I think it's what you said before. I think it's a grave robbery with a twist. You've got the fingerprints and the torn casket liner. Most likely it's rigged evidence that's been faked by whoever exhumed the body.”

“Faked for what effect?” asked Mulder.

Scully could think of several reasons. “Publicity. Fear. Rumors. I mean, I don't know what specific effect, but nonetheless it's…” Her line of thought trailed off as she noticed Mulder’s attention had become drawn to something on the ground. “What?”

Scully looked down and saw a dark red ring surrounding the gravesite.

“Looks like blood,” Mulder said.

Scully sighed. “Let’s have it tested.”

He nodded, and watched as Scully walked away to speak to the forensic team. Mulder was genuinely surprised that his theory wasn’t met with an eyeroll or an adamant statement contradicting his hypothesis and implying he was crazy. He had basically implied that Raymond Crouch was now a zombie, and she hadn’t even balked. With each new case since his recovery this past summer, Mulder grew more intrigued over Scully’s increasing acceptance of the bizarre, and her decreasing rigidity. She still may not always agree with him, but she listens respectfully and doesn’t just immediately dismiss his theories. The hard stares, arched eyebrows, and sardonic eyerolls were growing increasingly infrequent. Mulder liked it, but he also wondered why this was the case. That spaceship in Africa must've really thrown her for a loop.

Mulder also wondered what was going through her head, how she was feeling, what decisions she may have made about IVF, or about what she wanted from him if she’d decided against any future IVF procedures. He felt slightly thankful that they could work together, immersed in a case, immediately upon her return home. Hopefully any awkward silences or tension over the events of the last few weeks would be eradicated by comfortably working alongside each other. Work, the X-Files, was their comfort zone. They were pros at leaving their feelings at the door and getting down to the business of solving cases.

After receiving a phone call from Skinner requesting them back at headquarters as soon as possible for a case briefing on the grave robbery, Mulder and Scully hopped on the 1:00 pm flight back to D.C. and arrived at the Hoover Building around 4:30 pm. Mulder had been surprised at Skinner already requesting a meeting when they’d barely had the case a few hours, but Scully reminded him that it was likely due to the fact that Raymond Crouch was a former FBI agent. Mulder then quipped that the Bureau had to move fast in case it needed to cover its ass. Scully agreed.

Following the briefing in Skinner’s office, in which Mulder said words like ‘necromancy,’ ‘Shamanism,’ ‘magic circle,’ and ‘the undead’ to the annoyance of everyone in the room save Scully and Skinner, Mulder and Scully headed to Hartwell Psychiatric Hospital in Woodbridge, Virginia to speak with one Frank Black, a former analyst who worked with ViCAP out of the Behavioral Science Unit. Mulder had always heard of him referred to as one of the best criminal profilers to ever come out of Quantico.

Skinner had wanted Mulder and Scully to look further into a cult, the Millennium Group, which former FBI agents had gotten involved with, culminating in their suicides and then the robbery of their graves shortly afterwards. Mulder knew that Frank Black had used to consult for the group, and figured that was the best place to start getting some information about them. However, Mr. Black was less than cooperative, and a frustrated Mulder departed the hospital with Scully, not knowing where to go from here. The Millennium Group had been extremely secretive, and not much was known about them.

Upon leaving the psychiatric hospital, Mulder and Scully took the 20 minute drive northeast to Alexandria. Scully pulled up to 2630 Hegal Place and parked her car, but didn’t turn off the engine, and unlocked the doors. Scully had grown tenser and more anxious the closer they got to Alexandria. She wasn’t even sure why. It just seemed that she and Mulder were back to tiptoeing around whatever issue currently lies between them, and right now that appeared to be IVF. Why didn’t either have them have the courage to speak? Maybe a conversation about what to do about IVF would only lead to other conversations about the future, conversations that she wasn't prepared to have. Her self-preservation was preventing her from broaching the subject.

“I guess I’ll, uh, see you in the morning, Mulder.”

Mulder stared at her. They were going to spend the night alone? “Um, yeah, okay. See you in the morning, Scully.”

He got out of Scully’s car and made his way up to his apartment, knots tightening in his stomach. What did this mean? Was she just simply maintaining professionalism while they worked on this case? Or was she pulling away from him? Putting the brakes on this recent transition to their partnership? Mulder didn’t want to slow things down, or even worse, halt them altogether. He didn’t want less, he wanted more. But how much more, he couldn’t really say. Where was this thing even going? Maybe he should just ask her. Or maybe he shouldn’t. It was best not to think about that and just take one day at a time. Mulder didn’t want to spend another night alone on his couch. He wanted to be with Scully. But she clearly needed some distance right now, and he would have to wait. But for how long? What if this silence between them just grows until she’s slipping away from him again? They can’t go back there, go back to that frustrated place. Mulder had to do something before this became an aspect of their partnership that needed to be fixed, but he wasn't sure what.

*****

December 31st turned out to be a whirlwind. By 7:30 am Mulder and Scully had driven out to rural Maryland and discovered the body of a murdered sheriff’s deputy, which Scully believed had clearly been a victim of this necromancer, as Mulder called him, that they were looking for. They then took another drive to Woodbridge, Virginia to speak to Frank Black again, and thankfully he was a lot more helpful this time around and gave them a solid profile to go on.

By 10:00 am, Mulder and Scully were both making their way back to northwest Maryland, Scully to the Rice County Morgue in hopes of intercepting this necromancer and Mulder in search of single landowners in the surrounding area of where the deputy had been found in order to find the bodies of the FBI agents that the necromancer had exhumed.

At just past 12:00 pm, Scully arrived at the morgue and found herself being attacked by the once-dead sheriff’s deputy, and she would’ve died if this necromancer hadn’t shot the deputy in the head with her gun. The necromancer escaped as Scully got to a phone to call 911. Police and paramedics arrived, and the wounds on her neck, deep scratches, were treated while the coroner was loaded onto an ambulance, having been brutally attacked herself. Scully couldn’t begin to explain how a dead body attacked her, and her stomach knotted in fear.

Skinner showed up the Rice County Morgue at 3:00 pm to check on Scully and when he told her that Mulder wasn’t answering his phone, Scully felt like her heart had dropped into her stomach. She tried calling him herself, but it went straight to voicemail each time. It wasn’t like Mulder not to answer his phone. Scratch that, it wasn’t like him not to answer his phone when working a case. Upon speaking with some local law enforcement, who informed Scully that cell service in the rural area Mulder had headed to was haphazard at best, she felt somewhat reassured but was still uneasy. She hoped that Mulder would get to a place with cell reception and call her as soon as possible.

But as more time went by without hearing from Mulder, she grew increasingly worried. The Rice County Sheriff’s Department started canvassing the county and looking for any signs of Mulder’s Bureau-issued sedan. Scully took the 90 minute drive back to Woodbridge, Virginia to speak again to Frank Black in hopes of learning something that would help her find Mulder, and he proved none too cooperative, causing her to grow suspicious over how much he did actually know about this Millennium group and this necromancer.

On her way back to Maryland, Scully then called Skinner, who was running the investigative team at headquarters, requesting them to check into Frank Black in hopes of finding out what he may be hiding. And sure enough, when Scully had reached Rice County, Skinner called her with information concerning a Rice County phone number that frequently called and left messages for Frank at the psychiatric center. This same phone number had also placed calls to the FBI agents before they committed suicide.

Scully sped to this address and found Mulder’s sedan in the drive. As she picked the lock at the gate gunshots rang out from inside the house, and she ran inside. When heading down the basement stairs, she wouldn’t have been able to believe her eyes if she hadn’t already been attacked by a corpse at the morgue. But there was definitely a dead body coming at Mulder in the dark basement, which was aglow with some kind of red light. Scully aimed for the head and shot three times, and then watched the body fall to the ground.

Mulder looked up at Scully in amazement. He had thought he was a dead man. He wondered how she’d found him, but after thinking about it he wasn’t so surprised. She always found him. How many times had she saved his life over the years? It was impossible to count.

*****

Law enforcement and the paramedics eventually arrived, and Mulder and Frank Black were taken by ambulance to Burnside Memorial Hospital in nearby Sharpsburg, Scully following close behind in her FBI-issued car. Upon arriving at the hospital, Scully brought Mulder’s overnight bag inside, which she’d taken from the trunk of the Bureau sedan they’d left behind at the necromancer’s home. Skinner had told her that he would send someone out there to pick it up.

After walking inside the emergency room, she found the curtained area which held Mulder. His torn and bloody white dress shirt had been discarded along with his undershirt, and he was getting stitched up. Mulder stared at Scully and saw the red scratches on her neck, his eyes going wide, and then his brows furrowed with worry. Scully slowly shook her head at him, giving him a sympathetic smile, hoping to reassure him that she was all right.

“Well, Scully, we couldn’t properly ring in the New Year without one of us being in the hospital,” Mulder quipped.

Scully smirked at him.

“Okay, you’re all set,” said the emergency room doctor, as she finished securing the bandage over his stitched arm. “You’ll need to see a doctor in seven days to have the stitches removed, and I’m prescribing you an antibiotic you’ll need to take for the next 10 days. You should be fine, just keep an eye on it and keep the area clean to prevent infection.”

“Thanks,” Mulder replied.

The doctor grabbed a sling and placed it on the bed next to Mulder. “Will you need help with that?”

“I’ve got it,” Scully said.

The doctor nodded and left.

Scully opened Mulder’s overnight bag and got out a short-sleeved gray t-shirt. She turned to Mulder and slid the neck over his head, as he pushed his left arm through one sleeve, and then she helped him get his injured arm through the other sleeve. After she assisted him with the sling, they gazed at each other, Scully standing between Mulder’s knees, and he brought his left hand up to the collar of her blouse, opening it wider to look at her injury.

“You were hurt,” Mulder said quietly.

“Yes,” Scully breathed.

“When did that happen?” he asked.

Scully sighed. “Earlier today, at the morgue.”

Mulder’s eyes widened, his mind coming to the horrific conclusion about what had happened. “You could’ve been killed.”

Scully didn’t want Mulder to sink into guilt or fear or anxiety. “But I wasn’t. You were almost killed yourself. But you weren’t. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Mulder nodded, sighing.

“I’m going to go check on Frank while you get discharged,” Scully said, turning to walk away.

“Okay,” he replied, getting up off the bed.

After Mulder re-joined her and they said goodbye to Frank Black, they stood and watched the ball drop on Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve Special that was playing on the television in the waiting room. Dick Clark and the crowd started counting down from 10 until he shouted “Happy New Year, 2000!” and the celebration began. “Auld Lang Syne” filled the waiting room as Mulder and Scully watched the happy couples kissing on the television screen.

Mulder turned his head to look down at Scully contentedly watching the TV. He knew exactly what he wanted to do, but they were in public. In a hospital waiting room, with people around. No way would Scully allow that. Over the past three months, displays of affection in public, even on an empty street at night, were sharply rebuffed.

But oh well, he was going for it. Mulder bent his head down towards Scully, and as she saw his movement in her peripheral vision she turned to look at him, and then his mouth was on hers. It wasn’t passion-filled or urgent, which was the usual trademark of their kissing and the purpose of it. It was sweet, undemanding, and full of affection.

When Mulder pulled away and looked at her, knowing he had a goofy grin on his face, he saw her smile of pleasant surprise.

“The world didn’t end,” Mulder said, still grinning and hoping she’d catch his double meaning.

“No, it didn’t,” Scully replied evenly. She had a feeling Mulder wasn’t referring to the Millennium Group.

Scully turned her head, and looked down. She felt warm, fuzzy feelings begin to push their way through the confusion and grief that had plagued her since the failed IVF. Maybe this year would be better than the last. Maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

“Happy New Year, Scully.” Mulder couldn’t help feeling slightly disappointed, despite the fact that Scully hadn’t pulled her face away and given him a withering look. He wasn’t exactly sure what he had expected to happen, but he found himself hoping for a slightly more affectionate reaction. That she would’ve moved in to kiss him again, or thrown her arms around him and told him she loves him. Wait… did he actually want to hear those words from Scully? Mulder quickly pushed that thought away.

“Happy New Year, Mulder.”

As they walked out of the waiting room, Mulder threw his arm around Scully’s back and held her shoulder with his left hand. She didn’t pull away from him. Mulder thought that this was progress. He then grabbed his overnight bag from the emergency room desk, and they made their way out to Scully’s Bureau car in the parking lot.

“I’ll drive, Scully,” Mulder said, holding his hand out for the car keys.

Scully looked at him in surprise. “But your arm?”

He chuckled. “I can drive with my left. You’ve been driving all day long. Let me drive you home.”

Scully sighed. He was right. She had lost count of how many times she’d driven back and forth between Maryland and Virginia over the past two days. She handed Mulder the car keys and got into the passenger side after he unlocked the doors. A quiet hour and 15 minute drive later they pulled up to the curb in front of Scully’s apartment building. Mulder looked over at Scully. She was looking out her window, lost in thought, with her hands in her lap, and she hadn’t moved to exit the car.

“Scully,” Mulder said quietly.

She sighed, and licked her lips as she turned her head towards him. “Huh?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” Scully asked in response.

Mulder twitched his mouth. “Uh, no reason. But you, uh, didn’t get out of the car.”

“Neither did you.”

He snorted. “Yeah.”

“Do you…?” they both said in unison, before chuckling.

Scully shook her head, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

“Why is this so awkward?” asked Mulder.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to stay over tonight?” Mulder asked.

Scully gazed at him. “Yes… do you want to?”

“Yes,” he said, without hesitation.

Scully nodded. “Then I guess we better get out of the car.”

As they walked into her apartment, Scully wondered if Mulder would want to have sex. He probably did. It had been a long time. She wasn’t sure if she felt up to it. Her mind was still plagued with doubt, anxiety, and sadness. But maybe Mulder was what she needed.

Once Mulder removed his sling, he managed to undress himself in Scully’s bedroom without any help, throwing his clothes in a pile until he was only in his hunter green boxer briefs. He watched Scully walk out of the bathroom wearing a white tank top and powder blue panties. He felt himself growing hard immediately. He craved their physical connection. It had been so long.

Scully looked at him standing by the bed, and her eyes zeroed in on his erection. “Mulder, what about your arm?”

“There are certain things I’m more than willing to place ahead of my health,” Mulder quipped.

She smirked, and nodded. Scully still felt depressed. But she wanted Mulder to hold her, kiss her, make love to her, even if her mind wasn’t cooperating. She could see that Mulder obviously needed her, and why should she deny him what he needed when it was in her power to give it to him. She walked over to the wall and shut off the light, and then turned to look over at Mulder, in his dark boxer briefs and the stark white bandage on his right arm. She walked over to the bed to stand in front of Mulder. He started breathing heavier as she pressed her body into his, and he wrapped arms around her back, looking down into her face. Scully reached her hand down between them, slipping inside his boxers and encircling his hard cock, and started to stroke him.

“Oh, Scully,” Mulder breathed, and he leaned down to kiss her. Unlike the one at the hospital earlier, this kiss was filled with passion and urgency.

Scully squeezed her hand tighter around Mulder’s cock and stroked faster. Mulder groaned into her mouth, and then pulled away. He started to lift her tank top over her head, but he couldn’t raise his right arm very high, and so Scully took it the rest of the way off. She then slipped out of her panties, before grabbing the waistband of Mulder’s boxer briefs and sliding them down and off his legs.

“How do you want it, Scully?” Mulder whispered.

She looked up at him and wrapped her arms around his waist, his erection pressed against her stomach. “I want to feel your weight on top of me.”

Mulder smiled down at her and then kissed her again, before they climbed up onto the bed and got under the covers. Mulder moved to hover over her, his hips settling between her legs, and placed his elbows on the mattress beside her, his left arm taking the majority of his weight.

“Is your arm okay, Mulder?” Scully asked with concern.

“It’s great, Scully. Everything feels great.”

She snorted, wrapping her legs around Mulder’s hips.

“Wait, Scully… are you ready?” he asked, before leaning over on his left arm and reaching his bandaged arm down to her hot center.

His fingers glided through her auburn curls, entwining in them for a few seconds, before they found her clit and started to stroke in small circles, Scully sighing contentedly at his gentleness. Mulder dipped his fingers into her folds, finding the growing wetness there, and gathered some of her juices up to circle her clit once again. He then grabbed the base of his hard cock and dragged it up and down her slit, coating the engorged head with her wetness.

“Now, Mulder,” Scully whispered, bringing her own hand down between them, as he brought his arm back up to rest on the mattress next to Scully’s shoulder, and she guided him to her entrance.

Mulder entered her cunt a couple of inches, pulled out, and entered again, each time her muscles contracting to allow him deeper inside. He started moaning almost immediately. God, it had been so long. She felt wet, and so hot, and so very tight.

“Kiss me, Mulder,” Scully whispered, gazing up into his face.

He leaned down and kissed her passionately, his tongue darting out to lick her bottom lip before sliding into her mouth to caress her tongue, as he thrust his cock in and out of her cunt in a steady rhythm. Scully’s mind raced. She loved Mulder so much, and even if she didn’t think she was up for another IVF cycle, if Mulder wanted to keep trying, how could she refuse? Mulder had never come right out and talked about being a father, but there were so many things they didn’t talk about and she knew that didn’t mean the feelings weren’t there. She was Mulder’s only chance for fatherhood because he’d never leave her and have a family with someone else. She knew that. It would be so selfish to give up if he didn’t want to. But what if he didn’t want to try again? What if her hormonal mood swings, and the lack of sex during the IVF process, and the pain from failure were just not what Mulder had expected, and was something he never wanted to deal with again? What if he’d lost his faith in the whole thing?

“Scully, I can’t hold on much longer,” Mulder panted.

“That’s okay, Mulder,” Scully whispered.

He looked down at her with furrowed brows. “But you haven’t come yet.”

“Mulder, I’m not going to.”

Mulder stopped thrusting. “What? Why? What do you need me to do?”

Scully gave him a sympathetic smile. “There’s nothing you can do. It’s just not going to happen tonight.”

“Do you want me to go down on you? Do we need to change positions? Do you want to be on top?”

Scully shook her head, snorting. “No, I want to stay just like this.”

Mulder gave her a skeptical look. She loved being on top. She loved him sucking her clit. He started to pull out of her, but her hands quickly grabbed his ass and pulled him back inside her to the hilt, before wrapping her thighs even tighter around him and locking her ankles around his hips.

“Scully,” he groaned. “I want you to come. What didn’t I do?”

She wrapped her arms tighter around his back, pulling him closer to her. “It’s not you, Mulder. It’s me. It’s my brain. It won’t shut off. That’s not your fault. Now, come.”

Mulder shook his head at her. "Zombies fucked up my arm, and you can't come. Best New Year's Eve ever, am I right?"

Scully started laughing. "Oh, Mulder, I missed you."

He smiled. "You did?"

She clenched her muscles around his cock and a low, guttural moan escaped his throat.

“Scully…” Mulder panted.

“Mulder, I need you to come. Please.” Scully unlocked her ankles and pressed her heels into his ass, urging him to resume thrusting. She then started kissing and licking his neck as she continued to clench her muscles around his engorged cock, and Mulder was gone, thrusting hard and fast.

Mulder bent his head down to watch himself sliding in and out of Scully’s cunt, and felt his cock begin to throb inside her. He looked back into Scully’s face, his mouth meeting hers in desperate kisses. He started moaning Scully’s name as his forehead hung over hers, telling her how good her cunt feels and how beautiful she is until the pressure building in his groin reached its climax, and loud guttural moans replaced his words.

Scully gripped Mulder tighter and gazed into his face as she watched him overcome with pleasure, and felt the warmth of his life fill her dead womb. He gazed down at her face with heavy lids, breathing hard, stroking her cheeks with his fingers as he held himself up by his elbows. She felt her heart swell, as the pain and grief from the failed IVF began to subside, and warm, tender feelings began to take their place.

“Do you want to try IVF again, Mulder?” she asked, looking up at him.

“That’s your decision, Scully.”

She shook her head. “It’s yours, too.”

“I want to only if you do,” Mulder replied.

She then felt her eyes begin to fill with tears. “Are you still praying for a miracle, Mulder?” she whispered.

He gazed down at her. “Always.”

“Do you think God is listening?” she asked, her voice cracking and tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

Mulder didn’t exactly know how to answer. He hadn’t definitively decided on God yet. But if he didn’t believe in a Power out there in the universe, what was the point of hope and prayers? Wouldn’t that mean he was just sending empty words into outer space?

“I want to believe God is listening, Scully. I want to believe so badly.”

“Me too.”

More tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes, and Mulder bent his head down to kiss them away. Scully was obviously still grieving, and it would take a little time before she felt normal again. Mulder didn’t mind, he had all the time in the world. He wasn’t going anywhere. She needed some TLC right now and Mulder felt a sense of self-satisfaction knowing that she’d probably allow him to take care of her for once. Maybe that public kiss in the hospital was indeed progress towards something more, even if it was just a small step.

The following morning, after Mulder showered and dressed in Scully’s bathroom, as he walked out to the hallway and passed by the hall closet and guestroom on his way to the living room, and an idea started to form in his mind of how he could make it up to Scully for such an unfulfilling New Year’s Eve.


	51. “You are not what I was expecting.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder plans a special New Year's Eve do-over, and does a few things Scully never anticipated.
> 
> This chapter contains mostly sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depeche Mode – “Slow”
> 
> Slow, slow  
> As slow as you can go  
> So I can feel all I want to know  
> Slow, slow  
> I go with your flow
> 
> Let the world keep its carnival pace  
> I'd prefer to look into your beautiful face  
> What a waste
> 
> Let the stars continue to fly by  
> I don't have one desire to understand why  
> I don't try
> 
> Slow, slow  
> As slow as you can go  
> I want my senses to overflow  
> Slow, slow  
> Doesn't it show
> 
> I don't need a race in my bed  
> When speed's in my heart and speed's in my head  
> Instead
> 
> It's tempting for fools to rush in  
> When something's so good why should we rush a thing  
> It's a sin
> 
> Slow, slow  
> As slow as you can go  
> That's how I like it  
> I like it
> 
> I don't need a race in my bed  
> When speed's in my heart and speed's in my head  
> Instead
> 
> Slow, slow  
> As slow as you can go  
> That's how I like it  
> I like it
> 
> That's how I like it  
> That's how I like it

On Thursday morning, January 6th, Mulder walked into the basement office at 6:30 am, the silent darkness greeting him, before turning on the lights and sitting down at their desk. The office seemed eerily quiet and dismal at this hour, but that’s what he got for coming in so early. But he’d woken up on his couch, alone, and couldn’t go back to sleep. He was still alone there, but work at least gave him something to do and he knew Scully would be there soon enough.

He had spent the previous weekend at Scully’s. It had been kind of subdued as she was mostly quiet, lost in thought. Since New Year’s Eve night she hadn’t mentioned IVF again, and Mulder supposed she was taking her time to think things over. Gradually she started to smile and he spent a lot of time trying to make her laugh, which he thought she appreciated. He asked her to pick the movie on Saturday night, instead of insisting on a movie he’d prefer or sports, and he good-naturedly sat through _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_ while she snuggled against him underneath a wool blanket. To Mulder’s surprise, on Sunday morning before she left for Alexandria to attend church with her mother, Scully let him kiss her goodbye. Progress.

Mulder checked his email, but nothing promising there. Maybe by the end of the day. On Monday, he and Scully had spent nearly all day in Skinner’s office going over everything that had occurred up in Rice County, Maryland. Despite the hard evidence in front of them, particularly Mulder and Scully’s injuries, most of the other agents in the room still found the notion of reanimated corpses hard to accept. By the end of the day, Mulder and Scully “fighting a bunch of zombies” was spoken of all over headquarters. The next few days caused even more whispers and blatant stares thrown their way than usual whenever they made their way in or out of the building.

Also on Monday, the editor of the _Forensic Sciences Journal_ called Scully and asked her to contribute an article for the March issue. So Mulder was relegated to spending the rest of the week sleeping at his apartment while she researched and wrote up the monograph on quantitation of human genomic DNA, as she had stated that she desperately needed something to work on and would be able to concentrate better without him around. At first he felt annoyed, but then was grateful at having some time to plan for Friday night. Mulder had wanted to do something special, in part to make up for New Year’s Eve and also just to do something nice for Scully. He wasn’t sure how she would react, but the progress they were making lately left him feeling hopeful.

*****

Once the clock struck 9:00 am and Scully arrived 15 minutes later, the phone soon started ringing off the hook, like it had been doing all week. Word of the events of New Year’s Eve had made its way outside the FBI, and every time a journalist called headquarters for an interview, or a representative from the science department from some university called with an enquiry, or even if just some Joe Schmo from Idaho called about a zombie apocalypse, all these calls were transferred to the basement office. Mulder had grown increasingly scathing with these people, and so Scully had completely taken over telephone duties.

At just past 5:00 pm, Mulder and Scully left the office and made their way out of the building, towards the parking garage. The sun had set and it was growing dark.

“Have you finished that article, Scully?” Mulder asked, as they approached his car.

She smirked. “I’ve got the rough draft mostly finished, but I should complete it tonight.”

Mulder nodded. “Okay, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Scully watched as he turned toward his car. “Um, do you want to get something to eat?”

He turned around and looked at her with pleasant surprise. “Yeah.”

She smiled. “Somewhere in Georgetown, and then you can drop me off at home.”

“What about your car?” Mulder asked.

Scully shrugged. “I can take a cab in the morning and get my car tomorrow.”

“All right,” Mulder replied, smiling, before opening his door and pressing the button to unlock the others.

She got into the passenger side and they drove to Raj of India on Wisconsin Ave NW, about a minute from her apartment, and feasted on tandoori chicken, dhansak curry, basmati rice, and naan bread. It was almost 7:00 pm when Mulder pulled up to the curb in front of Scully’s apartment building, and put the car into park.

“Wait right there,” Mulder said, smiling, the word ‘progress’ running through his mind.

She wondered what he was up to as she unbuckled her seat belt. Mulder opened his car door and jumped out before walking around to the passenger side, and opened Scully’s car door for her. She smirked up at him as she got out, and he closed the door behind her.

“Thank you for dinner,” Scully said.

“Don’t mention it,” Mulder replied, with a wave of his hand, and then stuck his hands nervously in his coat pockets. He wanted to ask her to come over the next night, but wasn’t sure how receptive she’d be to his plan. He also didn’t want this night to end quite yet either, and wasn’t looking forward to another night sleeping alone.

Scully thought this scenario felt rather first date-ish, and tried not to grin. “Okay, well, I’ll see you in the morning.”

He stared at her, and then nodded. “Uh, yeah, see you in the morning, Scully.”

She turned away to walk towards her apartment building, but not before noticing the slightly disappointed expression on Mulder’s face. She suppressed a smirk and then turned back around to see him stepping onto the pavement.

“Mulder?”

He stopped in front of the trunk of his car, and turned to watch her approach him until she stopped at the curb.

“Yeah?” he replied, walking back towards the curb until he was standing on the pavement in front of her.

She grinned and inched closer, bringing her arms up towards him, as he gave her another surprised smile and closed the distance between them, lacing them around his neck. Despite the curb adding to her height, she still reached her face up until he bent down and softly caressed his lips against hers. Mulder couldn’t believe he was kissing Scully right on the street, in front of her building, and it was her who had initiated it. Sure, it was dark, but there were street lamps. He hadn't expected this. This was definitely public. This was definitely progress.

She had intended the kiss to be brief, and chaste, but it was suddenly turning into something else. Mulder held Scully tightly against him, and her hands gripped his neck. His lips were warm and soft against her own, and the kiss slowly turned passionate, as she opened her mouth to the gentle nudge of his tongue without hesitating. His lips slowly caressed hers, as his tongue gently unfolded in her mouth, tenderly stroking her skin, moving to brush against her tongue.

As she felt hot desire begin to pool at her center, she broke the kiss and pulled away. He was breathing heavily and gazing at her, a contented smile breaking out over his face.

“Goodnight, Mulder,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, Scully,” he said, watching her turn to walk away. “Oh! Scully.”

She turned back to look at him.

“Do you, uh, want to stay at my place tomorrow night?”

Scully smiled. “Sure.”

He returned her smile. “Great. How about 8:00? Oh, um, dress like we’re, uh, going out.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Are we going out?”

“Nope,” Mulder grinned. Going out in public wouldn’t do for what he had in mind.

Scully smiled to herself as she walked inside her building, and into her apartment. But she then grew nervous. What was he up to? He was obviously planning something, and he knew she hated surprises. Oh, God. What was he going to spring on her?

*****

On Friday, January 7th, Scully left work a little early to head home and get ready for whatever it is Mulder was up to. All day long she’d tried to get it out of him, but he wasn’t budging. He wouldn’t even drop a hint. He’d teased and taunted her instead. Now, as she stood in front of her closet, trying to decide on what to wear that would signify ‘like we’re going out,’ her cell phone rang.

“Scully.”

“Hi Dana! It’s Jennifer.”

“Oh, hi! How’re you doing?”

“Oh, you know, I’m as big as a house and the baby still has over two weeks to go before I deliver. So I’m miserable, basically. How’re you?”

“I’m sorry,” Scully replied. “I’m… okay.”

“What? What’s going on?”

She sighed. “Mulder invited me over to his place tonight.”

“Yeah? And? I want details.”

Scully snorted. “He told me to dress like we’re going out.”

Jennifer chuckled. “Where is he taking you?”

“That’s the thing, we’re not going out. I’m just supposed to dress like we are.”

“Hmm…,” Jennifer replied. “So he wants you to dress sexy, right?”

She felt her face growing red. “I, uh, yeah, I guess that’s what he meant.”

“Well, he obviously doesn’t want you to come over in the pantsuit you wore at work all day or a pair of jeans.”

Scully chuckled. “Right.”

“So what are you gonna wear?” Jennifer asked.

Scully sighed. “I have no idea.”

“What about that cobalt blue lace mini dress?” she suggested.

Scully hesitated. “Daniel bought that for me, Jennifer.”

“Yeah, so? What good’s it doing ya just sitting in your closet? You look awesome in that dress.”

Scully twitched her mouth as she pulled the hanger with said dress out from the back of her closet, and glanced over the deep blue color of its lace overlay that was about two inches longer than the blue dress underneath, its ¾ length sleeves and high slash o-neck, it’s figure-hugging pencil fit. She had always loved that dress, and she hadn’t worn it in a very long time.

She then sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what’s happening tonight, and it makes me nervous.”

“Dana,” Jennifer said firmly. “Let go of the control. And wear that damn dress. I can guarantee Mulder will love it. Anyways, I gotta go. The boys are downstairs fighting about something, and Charlie’s coaching tonight.”

“Okay, Jennifer. Thanks.”

She chuckled. “You better call me with all the details! I live vicariously through you, ya know.”

Scully rolled her eyes. “Goodnight, Jennifer.”

After hanging up the phone, Scully continued to stare at the cobalt blue dress in her hand.

*****

At 7:00 pm on Friday evening, Mulder showered and then dressed in his bedroom, pulling on a pair of brown Dockers and tucking his white undershirt before zipping up the crotch and buckling his belt. He then reached into his closet and took out the dark navy blue cashmere sweater, before pulling it over his head. He then slipped his feet into a pair of cognac leather lace-up Oxfords. He automatically reached for his wallet to slide into the back pocket, but then realized he wasn’t going anywhere. He opened the wallet, and pulled out the banquet place card with its handwritten “Mrs. Spooky” and smiled at it before setting it down on top of his dresser. He then dropped his wallet down on top of the dresser as well.

Mulder nervously walked from room to room, making sure everything was neat and tidy. He couldn’t remember the last time his apartment had been so clean. The moon and city lights outside his window were bathing his living room in soft light, candles were lit on his coffee table, on top of his stereo system, on the side table in his foyer, and in the middle of his dining room table.

At 7:45 pm, he set the bowl of spiced nuts on the table in his dining room, along with the cheese and prosciutto plate and the crabmeat salad with crackers he’d gotten from his favorite Alexandria deli. He then grabbed the silver bucket from his kitchen countertop and filled it with ice, before pulling the champagne out of the refrigerator and setting it inside the ice bucket. As he was grabbing the plate of strawberries he’d pulled from the refrigerator earlier, when he’d gotten home after getting his stitches taken out, there was a knock at his door.

Butterflies filled his stomach as Mulder set the champagne bucket and strawberries down to join the other offerings on the dining room table. He felt nervous as hell. How would Scully react? He knew the atmosphere inside his apartment screamed “date night” and usually she rejected this kind of thing. On the other hand, what she’d technically reject was going out together on what might be construed as a date. He’d yet to attempt doing anything date-like while staying in. He’d just have to see how this goes. On his way through the foyer he quickly grabbed a couple things from the side table, and then opened his door to see Scully standing there in her knee-length charcoal gray wool trench coat and black high stiletto heels. His heart started pounding and he grinned at her.

She stood there staring at Mulder, her eyes roaming over the soft sweater hugging his firm chest, with the sleeves pushed back to his elbows and exposing his strong forearms, the slim fit of his dress pants over his hips and long legs, and up to his face, which had a Noisemaker hanging out of his mouth and a silver cone New Year’s Eve party hat perched on top of his head. Scully started chuckling and shaking her head as she walked across the threshold into the apartment.

Mulder closed and locked the door while Scully removed her coat and hung it on the coat rack. He stared at the bright royal blue shade of her lace dress, which tightly clung to her body and stopped about halfway down her thighs. He’d never seen in her in something so short. At first he thought her legs were bare, but then his brain registered her sheer nylons. She looked stunning and he was trying to force his gaze from her ass but it was proving difficult. He wondered how he was going to get through the evening. He’d wanted to go slow, but his body was suddenly telling him to hurry up. As Scully turned to face him, the Noisemaker halfheartedly sounded off as Mulder exhaled the breath he’d been holding.

She chuckled, and then looked around. There were candles glowing around the dimly lit apartment, and it looked clean. There was nothing cluttering the coffee table or the desk in the living room, sneakers weren’t tossed in various corners. She could also hear music playing faintly in the background, she thought it sounded bluesy. She was glad it wasn’t jazz. She hated jazz, but then again, so did Mulder. Scully glanced to her left into the dining room and stared at the table. She hadn’t expected this at all.

“What is all this, Mulder?” she asked, slightly arching an eyebrow. “Are we in the right apartment?”

He waggled his eyebrows at her and removed the Noisemaker. “We’re having a New Year’s Eve party. We didn’t really get to celebrate.”

Scully grinned. “Okay.”

Mulder smiled. It was working out so far. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, I’m starving.”

They stepped into the dining room and sat down at the table crosswise from each other. Mulder stared down at the short lace hem of her dress as Scully crossed her toned legs, with their firm muscles and soft flesh. He forced himself to look up at her face, and saw she was smirking at him.

She gazed at him. Jennifer had been right. He loved this dress. Scully’s gaze turned into a stare as she watched Mulder hold out a silver and blue party hat to her.

“I’m not wearing that.”

He grinned. “Yes, you are.”

Scully pursed her lips. “Mulder, it’s silly.”

“What’s wrong with being silly once in a while?”

She sighed and took the hat. Mulder was such a little boy sometimes. As she placed it on top of her head, making sure the thin elastic band held it in place, she rolled her eyes while a huge grin spread over his face.

“How long do I have to wear this hat, Mulder?”

“Until I say so,” he winked.

Scully looked at the spread on the table. “Did you do all this?”

“Well, it’s not much. But I purchased everything, yes. You wouldn’t have wanted me to prepare it. We both would’ve probably gotten food poisoning.”

Scully chuckled.

“Is that a new dress?” Mulder asked, gazing at her, his desire to reach out and caress the fabric on her thigh threatening to speed up the evening faster than he intended.

She hesitated. “Uh, no, it’s not. I’ve had it a long time. I just, uh, haven’t worn it in years.”

He nodded, still gazing.

Scully leaned in closer towards him, and smirked. “So, Mulder, are you going to pop the cork, or what?”

He grinned, and removed the champagne bottle from the ice bucket. He then removed the foil capsule at the top of the bottle and twisted the small wire cage that surrounded the cork until it loosened, and then it too was removed. Mulder picked up the kitchen towel that was lying on the table next to the bucket, and used it to grab hold of the cork with his left hand, holding the bottle with his right. As he began to twist the bottle while firmly holding the cork still, he glanced at Scully who was watching him and licking her lips. While he stared at her lips, suddenly the cork popped and made him jump. She giggled.

He then poured champagne into their glasses, and they sat at his table drinking and eating, and laughing. An hour later half the bottle was gone, and Scully felt very warm and fuzzy. She felt like this was a whole new side to Mulder she was learning about. He’d shown her hints of it, like his good intentions with taking her to the Marriott in College Park, but she hadn’t ever thought this side to him existed.

“I can’t even remember the last time I had champagne,” Scully sighed.

Mulder smiled.

“And if I have any more, I will be very tipsy,” she stated, as he poured more champagne into her glass.

He grinned. “And when was the last time you were drunk, Scully?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she sighed. “College, I think. There wasn’t a whole lot of drinking in medical school, although that probably would’ve helped.”

He laughed.

Scully gazed at him. “When was the last time you were drunk, Mulder?”

“Christmas,” he said without hesitation.

She stared at him. “Christmas? As in just two weeks ago, Christmas?”

Mulder nodded.

Scully sighed, and looked down at his right forearm lying on the table. The stitches were gone and the skin had almost completely healed. She reached out and brushed her fingertips over his arm, and his breathing began to quicken. His skin grew hot and tingled with every contact her fingers made against him.

“I should’ve stayed here with you,” Scully whispered.

Mulder gazed at her, shaking his head. “You needed to be with your family.”

She sighed and pulled her hand away, before standing up from the table and removing her party hat. He stared at her as she picked up her glass of champagne. “Ready to move into the living room?”

He grinned as he watched her turn and walk away from the table, heading into the foyer and through the opening to his living room. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Mulder placed the cork back into the champagne bottle and set it back inside his refrigerator, along with the strawberries, crab salad, and cheese plate. He then grabbed his champagne glass from the dining table, at the same time removing his own party hat, and walked towards the living room, before stopping at the opening and leaning against it, staring at Scully. She was standing at his desk and looking out his window, her back to him.

Scully’s stomach was full of butterflies. This whole evening was very… romantic. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She didn’t want to get even more attached, to fall even harder than she was already because that was dangerous. It was dangerous to love Mulder. She’d always known that. And the past New Year’s Eve had served as another reminder, the scene she’d come upon in that Maryland basement. At any moment, he could be ripped from her life. Whether it was a bullet, or a bomb, or an alien artifact, or a damn zombie, in the blink of an eye she could lose Mulder. Loving him was dangerous. She almost wished that the only thing she ever had to fear was something clichéd, like another woman. But that wasn’t the case, nor would it ever be. She was stuck with the debilitating fear of his eventual death, which admittedly could happen at any time because of their work. If only the work was something that Mulder could ever walk away from, but she didn’t find that a likely possibility.

As Scully stood there looking out the window, she was trying to reinforce the walls around her heart. But then Jennifer’s words from earlier came back to her. _“Dana, let go of the control.”_ It was easy to say that, but it wasn’t easy to do. The champagne was helping, though.

“Scully?”

She turned around to see Mulder in the opening, watching her. She smiled, and then walked over to the shelving on the wall across from his couch which held his stereo system. The bluesy guitar, harmonica, and piano were now louder than the music had been in the dining room. She started running a finger along Mulder’s CDs, noting the various blues and classic rock titles.

“See anything you like?” Mulder asked as he walked over to stand next to her.

She turned towards him, taking a sip from her glass and gazing into his face, and then purred “Yes.”

Scully licked her lips, and Mulder stared with heavy lids, his breathing quickening. After downing the rest of his champagne, he set his glass down on the shelf, before reaching for hers and taking it from her hand to join his. Mulder then wrapped his arm around her waist, and feeling the heat between them, pulled her flush against him. Scully felt a slight twinge of embarrassment at the thought of dancing in his living room. But then Mulder’s mouth was on hers and she knew that he had no intentions of dancing.

Scully moved her arms up to grip her hands around Mulder’s neck as the kiss deepened, as his hands moved down from her waist to her ass, squeezing and holding her body tighter to him. Scully could feel him begin to harden against her, and wet desire began to flow from her hot center. Mulder then turned her around, pressing her against his bulging erection, and started walking them towards his bedroom door.

“Wait, Mulder,” Scully said abruptly.

“What?”

Scully pulled away from his grasp and he watched her with a steady gaze as she walked around the living room blowing out the candles, and then briefly disappeared into the dining room to blow out the candles on the tables.

As Mulder approached the bedroom door, Scully joined him, smirking. “We don’t want our night to be interrupted by the fire department, do we?”

Mulder grinned. “Certainly not.”

Scully then opened the bedroom door, Mulder bringing his hands up to the neckline of her dress and pulling the zipper down her back as he walked close behind her. “As much as I love this dress, Scully, I want it off immediately.”

Mulder closed the bedroom door with his foot as Scully noted that a couple candles were also in the bedroom, alight on top of his dresser, and the bed had already been turned down. He then slid the blue dress down Scully’s front as she pulled her arms out, and it dropped to the floor. Mulder then continued to walk her towards the side of the bed, and after turning her around to face him, he picked her up and placed her on top of the mattress as she kicked off her heels.

As Scully lied down, Mulder’s eyes swam over her white strapless lace bra and matching panties with garter straps holding up her thigh-high sheer nylons. Mulder bent down and undid the straps, before slowly rolling down her nylons on each leg, brushing his fingertips against her skin. He then hooked his thumbs at the waist of her white lace panties, before pulling them down and off her legs.

After removing his sweater and undershirt, Mulder knelt down on the carpet at the side of the bed, rubbing his hands along Scully’s legs and inner thighs as he lifted them over his shoulders. Scully sighed and closed her eyes, feeling the increasing sensations of desire tingling at her center, moisture pooling from her entrance, her clit beginning to hum with arousal.

“I’m gonna make you come, Scully,” Mulder whispered, his lips brushing against her inner thigh. She whimpered.

“And not just once,” he continued. “You’re gonna keep coming until you can’t come anymore.”

She whimpered again, her hips moving off the mattress. Mulder grinned against her thigh. He then started to kiss, bite, lick his way from the back of her right knee down her thigh, bypassing her glistening wet center, and moving to do the same to her left leg.

Scully’s groin was drenched with her juices, her clit throbbed achingly, and her hips kept thrusting off the mattress, seeking friction. Mulder was moving so slow, her blood was boiling and her skin felt on fire. He then moved his mouth to Scully’s center, and began to lick her groin clean of her juices, the delicious scent of her arousal causing his now fully engorged cock to strain inside his pants.

“You taste so fucking good, Scully,” he whispered, and all she could do was groan in reply.

With one hand gripping her hip, he moved his other hand to her center, his thumb gathering her wetness and rubbing her clit in circles as his fingers entwined in her auburn curls. Scully started sighing as she felt relief from her aching clit as Mulder kissed her inner thigh. He then watched her face as those sighs became mewling pants, and as he picked up the pace and rubbed his thumb harder against her clit, the pants became moans, and Scully was coming, her rigid body arching off the mattress.

Mulder removed his thumb from her clit, allowing her to come down off her high and her sensitive nerves to recover. His mouth returned to her center, licking her groin clean of the fresh juices from her orgasm. Once Scully’s breathing had slowed down, his mouth enclosed around her center and he sucked her swollen, wet folds into his mouth. He then parted her folds with his tongue, and thrust into her entrance as far as he could go, feeling her muscles clench around his tongue.

“Oh, God,” Scully breathed, her hips thrusting off the mattress and pressing into Mulder’s face.

He started alternating between thrusting his tongue into her cunt and licking her slit from the bottom, just above her tingling anus, through her swollen folds and to the top, stopping just short of her once again throbbing clit. Scully thought she was going to combust.

Mulder then paused and stared at her face, flush with arousal, her eyes slammed shut and eyebrows knitted, and her tongue darting out to lick her lips. Mulder grinned at what he was about to do, something he’d never done to Scully before, and thought that now was the perfect time. _Thank God for champagne._

He returned his tongue to her center, brushing the tip gently along the base of her clit, which elicited a guttural moan from Scully’s throat, down through her wet folds and circling her entrance, and then moving down achingly slow to lick her anus.

Scully jumped, gasping as her eyes flew open, and her body went rigid with tension. She wanted to protest, or cry out in shock. It felt shamefully wrong to be licked there, but it had also felt good. Scully was conflicted, but then Mulder reached up his hand to grasp hers, threading their fingers and giving her a squeeze. And she knew with that action that Mulder was asking her to trust him. Scully exhaled the breath that she’d been holding, and the tension in her body started to dissipate.

Mulder let go of her hand and once again returned to gripping her hips, tilting them slightly upwards as her legs wrapped around his shoulders. His tongue brushed lightly against her anus, and she felt it tickle, but then his licks became firmer, and then it simply felt good as her body relaxed into the pleasure. Mulder then resumed trailing his tongue through her slit, pressing against her anus before moving up through her folds to circle her throbbing clit, and then sliding back down to lick her anus again.

Mulder saw Scully’s hands tightly grip the bottom sheet and he grinned. His tongue continued its ministrations up and down Scully’s slit until he felt her muscles tense up and her body go rigid, and she came as he licked her anus and the tip of his tongue slid inside her, her moans filling the bedroom.

He then slid his index and middle fingers palm up into her cunt, in search of that slightly rough, spongy area inside, and curled the pads of his fingers against it, stroking. Mulder felt the muscles of her cunt clench around his fingers, and his hips gave an involuntary thrust. His hard cock strained inside his pants, desperate for the relief of Scully’s tight wetness. But he was going to wait. This night was about Scully, making up for that abysmal New Year’s Eve, making her feel good.

Scully felt that unbelievable, exquisite tension build and build as Mulder’s fingers stroked that sweet spot inside her front wall, and when Mulder’s mouth encircled her clit and he sucked it hard between his perfect lips, the tension burst and she screamed in ecstasy, another orgasm hitting her forcefully.

Mulder then stood up and unbuckled his belt, his eyes never leaving Scully’s body, splayed across the mattress with a red flush all over her skin, her chest heaving and her legs slightly quivering, nervous giggling erupting from her throat. Mulder smiled. It had been a while since he’d heard that sound, and thought maybe that was his most favorite sound in the world. Mulder was resolved to hear that sound again as soon as possible.

After he had discarded his shoes, Dockers, socks, and navy blue boxer briefs, Scully sat up on the edge of the bed and started to reach her hand for his hard cock, but he held her wrist.

“Another time,” Mulder said, shaking his head. “Tell me how you want it.”

Scully felt slightly disappointed; she wanted to feel Mulder’s soft hardness in her hands, she wanted him to come in her mouth. But she also craved him inside her. She smirked, got up on her knees facing him, and then unhooked her bra, tossing it to the floor. Scully wasn’t going to tell him, she was going to show him.

Mulder’s eyes widened as he watched Scully turn around on all fours. His eyes zeroed in on the scar in the small of her back, but he felt surprised that he didn’t feel jealousy, anger, or confusion. He didn’t give a damn about that scar, or about Ed Jerse. Scully was his. She’d always been. She belonged to him. And he’d spent years too afraid to reach out and take what was his. Not anymore.

He stepped closer to the edge of the mattress, until his cock slid between her thighs. Mulder placed his hand at her back and gently pressed until Scully lowered her upper body down and placed her forearms on the mattress, while keeping her knees bent and her hips up off the mattress, and she was bending over in front of him.

“Keep your thighs together,” said Mulder.

Scully felt her clit begin to hum with fresh arousal, wetness flow from her center, as she shifted her spread legs closer together until her thighs were touching.

Mulder wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and entered her cunt to the hilt in one motion, eliciting desperate mewling sounds from her. Scully felt full and complete, as her muscles contracted around him.

“Fuck, Scully,” he groaned. “You are so fucking tight.”

He pulled out all the way, before thrusting back in. Mulder did this a few times before he entered her and began thrusting in a steady rhythm, hard and fast, with his hands firmly grasping her hips, grunts of pleasure issuing from his throat.

As Scully felt the engorged head of Mulder’s cock stroke her sensitive spot over and over again, she started whimpering as her body tensed with building pleasure. “Don’t stop… yes… yes… Mulder, don’t stop.”

It didn’t take long for her clit to throb like mad, the blood in her groin to pulsate, and suddenly she was coming, the orgasm surging through her body as she moaned and her legs shook. Mulder pulled her upwards so that her back was flush against his torso. As Scully’s hands gripped his thighs, Mulder started kissing her neck and shoulder while his hands fondled her soft breasts, heavy and full with arousal, before his fingers moved south to softly brush up and down her abdomen as she came down from her high.

Mulder then moved her forward as he climbed up on the mattress behind her, and then they turned so that Scully could lay down on her back, with her head on Mulder’s pillow. His hips settled between her legs, and he brought his mouth down to her breasts, flicking his tongue over her nipples, before sucking them hard into his mouth. Scully started panting. He then slid his cock, throbbing with need, back into her wet cunt to the hilt in one fluid motion.

She sighed in satisfaction as she looked up at him. Mulder then lowered himself until his face was buried against her, keeping his mouth at her ear, and he started thrusting hard and fast as she bent her knees around his hips.

Mulder started moaning, and he knew he wasn’t going to last long. He wanted her to finish with him. “I want you to come again, Scully.”

She almost laughed. “Mulder, I really don’t think I can.”

“Yeah, you can,” he grunted.

His cock was relentless, stroking her inner walls faster and faster, and her nerve endings were flooded with pleasure. “I don’t think it’s possible, Mulder.”

He continued to thrust hard, and Scully closed her eyes and concentrated on the powerful sensations coursing through her body. She was trying, but another orgasm wasn’t likely. Mulder threw out his right hand to his side table, pulling the drawer open, and reached inside to find what he was looking for. By the time Scully’s brain had registered the sound of the drawer opening, Mulder’s hand was reaching down between them.

Mulder clicked the hot pink vibrator on high and pressed down on Scully’s clit. Her eyes flew open in shock, and then slammed shut at the intense sensation on her throbbing bud.

“Fuck… Scully,” he groaned as her cunt vibrated around his thrusting cock. Jolts of pleasure were coursing out from his balls, spreading across his groin to his thighs and the pit of his stomach.

He felt her body tense up and go rigid, and then pressed the vibrator down harder against her clit.

“OH MY GOD!” Scully cried out, her body stiffening and her back arching off the mattress, as her vaginal muscles clenched, bearing down against the intense pleasure surging through her body.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Mulder groaned, as he felt warm liquid gush from Scully’s center, soaking his groin, and then he was coming hard, howling into Scully’s shoulder.

Mulder couldn’t think clearly, or form sentences, but he managed to click the vibrator off and toss it onto his bedside table. He laid there breathing heavy for a few seconds, before rolling over to lay on his back next to Scully. Mulder looked over at Scully, her body quivering with orgasmic after-shocks. She felt completely exhausted, like her arms and legs were jelly. She didn’t know how she was going to move from this spot, since she was on Mulder’s side of the bed.

And then the nervous giggling was back. “Oh, my God, Mulder. I peed on you.” Scully kept giggling.

Mulder chuckled. “No, you didn’t. Do you smell urine?”

Scully’s giggles lessened, and she paused. “Um… no. But the sheet is soaked.”

“Has that ever happened to you before?” he asked, gazing at her.

“No!” she exclaimed, still giggling.

Mulder gazed at her intensely, eyes blazing, and then he growled as he lunged towards her, his lips passionately devouring hers.

“That was some trick, Mulder,” Scully said after breaking the kiss, her head nodding towards the bedside table.

He chuckled. “I took it out of your hall closet last weekend when you were in the shower.”

Scully shook her head at him, smirking.

“See? It wasn’t so bad, was it?” Mulder grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

She wrapped her arms around him, and pulled his lips back down to her mouth. After a minute, Mulder got up from the bed and walked into his en suite bathroom, taking out a clean set of sheets from the closet. While Scully was in the bathroom cleaning up, he re-made the bed. Less than 10 minutes later, they were both sound asleep, arms and legs entangled.


	52. "Don't look any further."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully's fear. Mulder's frustration. And Donnie Pfaster returns.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of "Orison" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it, because I'm not a sadist like the 1013 writers. It was written by Chip Johannessen, and belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> Sidenote: Mommy, hold me. Do you know how many times I was forced to watch "Orison" and "Irresistible" over the past few days? My skin is still crawling. Donnie Pfaster is the stuff of my teenage nightmares, specifically a recurring one that haunted me for years. Is there anything creepier than Nick Chinlund's face? Egads. 
> 
> I also want to call out whoever was responsible for the subtitles on "Orison." Every time the name "Donny Faster" came on the screen, I wanted to throw something at the TV. Come on, Donny Faster? I mean, seriously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kings of Leon – “Cold Desert”
> 
> I'm on the corner  
> Waiting for a light to come on  
> That's when I know that you're alone  
> It's cold in the desert  
> Water never sees the ground  
> Special, unspoken, without a sound
> 
> You told me you loved me  
> That I'd never die alone  
> Hand over your heart, let's go home  
> Everyone noticed  
> Everyone has seen the signs  
> I've always been known to cross lines
> 
> I've never ever  
> Cried when I was feeling down  
> I've always been scared of the sound  
> Jesus don't love me  
> No one ever carried my load  
> I'm too young to feel this old
> 
> Is it you  
> Is it me  
> Or does  
> Nobody know  
> Nobody see  
> Nobody but me

On Saturday, January 8th, Scully awoke to Mulder’s alarm clock going off at 7:00 am. She was laying in her side, facing him, and watched Mulder slowly blink himself awake, before he reached over to shut the alarm off, groaning. He then gave her a lazy, contented smile, and she smiled in return. He brought his left hand up to softly stroke the side of her face, gazing at her affectionately. As she gazed into his face, Scully thought that it seemed as though Mulder had something on his mind and he wanted to speak, but no words came out.

And Scully realized that Mulder did this a lot, gazed at her as though something important was just on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't form the words. Fox Mulder, who could harangue in torturous detail on hundreds of different topics that no one else on the planet cared about other than himself, was at times rendered absolutely speechless when he looked at her like this. These silences made Scully feel uncomfortable, as though Mulder was just on the verge of saying something she wasn’t prepared to hear, something that would take this thing between them into uncharted territory.

Yet, she knew that she was silent, too. Scully knew that she couldn’t possibly come up with words that would explain her feelings; that could even remotely come close to conveying whatever is on her mind or in her heart. What could she possibly say that doesn’t sound juvenile or clichéd, hokey or trite? All the words and phrases in the English language that denote love and romance have been used up by melodramatic soap operas and cheesy sitcoms, so that they seem to have very little meaning anymore. These words could never describe the depth of her feelings for Mulder, and all that he is to her. Scully suspected the same was true for Mulder. There was nothing they could say.

Instead, they showed each other the depth of those feelings. This had always been true of them. Where words failed, actions spoke what needed to be said. They were wearing each other out with the intensity of their physical intimacy, and Scully couldn’t see this waning anytime soon. The way that Mulder loved her in a physical way amazed her, and yet she wasn’t really surprised. She’d suspected this of him all along. He was assertive, flexible, orally-fixated, obsessive, but he was also tender, affectionate, unselfish. Mulder was not her first sexual partner by any means, but no man she had ever been with had touched her and looked at her the way he did. She’d had past lovers who’d professed how much they loved her, needed her. Mulder never spoke those words, but sometimes she thought his eyes said them. And she believed that there was more truth behind Mulder’s eyes than any of the romantic speeches she’d heard over the years.

Scully had learned to put down her guard, and her inhibitions, with just a look, or the gentle caress of his hand, or a few humorous words, which all served to implore her to trust him. And she found herself saying things during sex, and doing things, that she’d never said or done with anyone else. She’d still sometimes cringe with embarrassment later on when remembering, but in the moment she was free; free to vocalize what she wanted, free to show just how much pleasure she was having.

And Mulder was so comfortable with his own body, and in such reverence of hers, that now when she looked at herself in the mirror she could simply see a woman. Not a doctor, or a scientist, or an FBI agent. Just a woman, strong and beautiful. She hadn’t been able to see herself like that since those early days at the FBI Academy when it became clear just what kind of boys club she’d joined. A woman who dated was a slut determined to sleep her way to the top. A woman who kept things strictly professional was frigid, an ice queen.

When it became clear that Mulder was not ‘one of the boys,’ when she met him all those years ago and he addressed her as “Scully,” she began to like him. Throughout her time at the FBI Academy, and afterwards, most male agents addressed her and other female agents by their first names, while using last names with each other. This had always rubbed Scully the wrong way, as it had felt patronizing. But Mulder was not like this. And then in Oregon when she’d frantically come to his motel room and dropped her robe for him to look at those mosquito bites on the small of her back, she began to trust him. Over the years that trust grew until he was the one person she trusted the most, save her mother, and it seemed impossible that she could trust him any more than she did. But she was wrong, as there was a whole other aspect to physical trust that she was now experiencing with Mulder.

But emotional trust, that was still something she hadn’t let go of. To trust another human being with your inner self, your deepest thoughts and feelings, was something Scully had never been able to do, not even with her family members. As Scully laid there gazing at Mulder, she realized that there were words she could say, three simple words to be exact, that still had powerful meaning. And that power struck fear into her heart, debilitating and silencing. And as Scully’s mind began to form the fearful conclusion that this thing between them was growing too serious, too romantic, too dangerous, Mulder leaned over and pressed his lips to hers.

“Mulder, I have morning breath,” Scully murmured against his mouth.

“So do I,” he chuckled, before deepening the kiss.

Mulder then broke away to breathe and moved his mouth to her neck, caressing her skin with his lips. “Mmm, Scully, you smell like sex.”

She grinned. “You’re ready for round two? Is that what you’re getting at?”

He gave a tired sigh, and moved back to look at her. “No. I think I’m paralyzed from the waist down, actually.”

Scully laughed.

“I’m not the young buck I once was,” Mulder quipped, and then sighed. “We’re getting old, Scully.”

She smirked. “Speak for yourself. I thought we’d already established that I’m in my prime.”

Mulder grinned. “So, uh, what are you saying? You want some morning sex? I might be able to make the effort, but you’ll have to be thoroughly convincing.”

Scully chuckled. “Nope. I feel completely, utterly sated.”

She then watched his face twist into a wide self-satisfied grin, and she stared at him. “Wipe that look off your face, you smug bastard.”

Mulder chuckled.

Scully then rolled out of the bed and walked over to the other side to collect her previously discarded clothes, and then walked into the bathroom to get dressed. After emptying her bladder and dressing, she walked out to put on her shoes.

“Where are you going?” Mulder asked.

“To do the walk of shame,” Scully quipped. She then looked over at him, still lying in bed, his face a mixture of disappointment and confusion. “I have to go home, Mulder. I’m not going to wear this dress all day.”

He gave her the once-over, and Scully imagined that he probably wouldn’t mind one bit if she walked around his apartment all day long in this dress. As she looked down and slipped on one shoe, he sat up in bed.

“You know, Scully, maybe you should just leave some of your stuff here.”

She froze, and after slipping on the other shoe and standing erect, she averted her eyes from his gaze. “I don’t see why that’s necessary, Mulder.”

“Well, that way you could stay here longer instead of having to go home,” he said simply, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

Scully nodded. “Okay, well I’ll see you Monday morning.”

Mulder balked. “Monday? Why Monday?”

She sighed, averting her eyes. “I’m going to be running errands all day, Mulder. I have a list a mile long of things I need to take care of. And I’m spending tomorrow at my mom’s house. Charlie and Jennifer might be coming down with the kids, but I’m not sure.”

He nodded, sighing. “Okay. I guess I’ll see you Monday.”

Scully then walked out to the living room, through the foyer, grabbed her coat from the rack by the door, and left.

*****

On Sunday morning, January 9th, Mulder awoke on his couch to the phone ringing. He groggily reached out to pick up his watch on the coffee table and saw that the time was 8:13 am. Mulder felt exhausted, as he hadn’t fallen asleep until sometime after 3:30 am. He got up off the couch, walked over to the desk, and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Agent Mulder?”

“Yes,” he sighed.

“Special Agent Fox Mulder? With the FBI?”

“This is him,” Mulder said as he sat up straighter, his brain awakening.

“Uh, yeah, this is Joe Daddo with the US Marshals. I was wondering if you’d be able to help us out.”

Mulder’s mind went into overdrive, trying to discern what the US Marshals would need him for. “With what?”

“Earlier this morning one Donald Addie Pfaster escaped from federal prison,” said Marshal Daddo. “I believe you are familiar with this guy?”

Mulder’s stomach immediately bottomed out. “Yes. How did he escape?”

“Well, uh, no one really knows. We’re guessing he just walked out. There were guards present, other inmates, prison staff, but no one saw him leave. He was there, and then he was just gone. You and your partner are the ones who hunted this wacko down and apprehended him, correct?” Marshal Daddo asked.

“Yeah, that’s right. But, uh, what do you need my help with?” Mulder felt utter shock. Never in a million years did he think he’d ever have to deal with Pfaster again. Hunting down escaped convicts also wasn’t exactly Mulder’s expertise. And how could Pfaster just walk out of a federal prison without anyone seeing it happen?

“Well, I was just wondering if you and your partner wouldn’t mind coming out here to Illinois and assisting us with the operation. I believe it was your criminal profile that led to his capture in the first place. I want my team to know, and I’d like to know myself, just exactly who we’re dealing with here.”

Mulder’s stomach was in knots. He didn’t want to bring Scully on this. “All right. I’ll be there.”

“Great. We’ve got two seats on hold for you. Flight leaves D.C. at 9:55. I’ll have someone pick you and your partner up at the St. Louis airport. Then it’s about a two hour drive to the penitentiary in Marion, Illinois.”

“Okay,” Mulder sighed.

After hanging up the phone, he jumped into the shower, before getting dressed and packing his overnight bag. Mulder had decided not to call Scully. He didn’t want her anywhere near anything having to do with Pfaster. He hadn’t spoken to her at all since she’d left his apartment Saturday morning. It had seemed to Mulder that she had been in a hurry to get out there, and that she’d avoided eye contact as she left. He wasn’t sure why, but he could tell that, despite her apparent good mood and banter that morning, she was hiding something behind her eyes. Mulder couldn’t even begin to imagine what that would be, but something about the way she left had given him a slight sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. Mulder hoped that Scully wouldn’t start backpedalling, while knowing that was something he’d totally expect her to do.

At 9:20 am Mulder was sitting at his gate at Dulles airport when suddenly Scully was standing in front of him with pursed lips and an arched eyebrow, carrying her overnight bag. He noticed that she’d gotten a haircut and it was several inches shorter. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“So, you were going to ditch me, huh?” she asked tersely.

Mulder sighed. “How’d you find out?”

“The US Marshals’ office called me,” Scully replied. “Asked me to confirm my seat on the 9:55 am flight to St. Louis, Missouri. Why would you go without me? Without even telling me?”

He sighed again. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come along.”

Scully gave him a hard stare. “Are you saying that as my partner? Or as my friend? Or… something else?”

Mulder knew what she was getting at. “Do you think I would let my personal feelings cloud my judgment?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she replied icily.

He stared at her. What could he say? She was right. So he said nothing. They then heard the overhead announcement that boarding was about to start and went to stand in line. Scully said nothing more to him as they boarded and found their seats, she by the window and Mulder sitting next to her on the aisle. Mulder wondered just how irritated she really was, if she even truly wanted to be out there looking for Pfaster, or if she was just annoyed that he had been about to run off somewhere without telling her. When the plane began takeoff and sped down the runway, as it started to leave the ground, Mulder turned to look at Scully. She then turned to meet his eyes, a hard expression still on her face.

“Just so you know,” he said, gazing steadily into her face. “No matter where we are, or what we’re doing, I am always your partner. And I am always your friend.”

Scully’s expression softened a little but she didn’t say anything in response, and turned back to look out the window. Mulder sighed, and spent the rest of the flight hoping the US Marshals would find Pfaster before he and Scully even arrived, but knowing that wasn’t likely.

After arriving at the St. Louis International Airport two hours later, an SUV with two marshals picked Mulder and Scully up at the airport and drove them to the US Penitentiary in Marion. After the briefing on Pfaster with US Marshal Joe Daddo and his team, Mulder followed Scully into the prison chapel. He’d been uneasy since she’d showed up at the airport, and his uneasiness had grown since they’d arrived at the prison, and increasing just a couple minutes ago when Scully hastily walked out of the briefing after adamantly stating that nothing supernatural could be attributed to Pfaster.

“Case closed,” Mulder deadpanned as he walked through the chapel door. “Didn't look at the file, did you?”

Scully turned to look at him. “A man escaped from prison.”

Mulder started to circle her. “Not a man. Donnie Pfaster. And he didn't just escape, he walked out. He walked out of a maximum security facility and no one seems to know how he did it.”

“Isn't that why we're here?” Scully asked.

“That's why I'm here,” Mulder said, walking towards her. “I don't know about you. Why are you here? Go home, Scully.”

“Mulder, this case doesn't bother me.”

He lowered his voice. “The man abducted you. Donnie Pfaster did a number on your head like I've never seen and it's okay to… walk away.”

“Mulder, that man does things to people that no one should ever have to think about. It's not a question of if I should stay. I don't have a choice. So let's get to work.”

He knew that getting Scully to leave off this case wasn’t gonna happen. So they may as well get down to business. “Well, this isn't the first incident. Two prisoners have escaped from maximum security facilities in neighboring states over the past year. At 6:06 this morning Donnie Pfaster made it three.”

“6:06? And what's so supernatural about that?” Scully asked.

“Dozens of witnesses, guards, and staff, and no one seems to remember anything,” Mulder replied. “For a while, they didn't even know these guys were missing.”

“Have they been apprehended?” Scully asked.

“No, neither of the men have ever been seen again,” replied Mulder.

“Well that sounds like a conspiracy of silence,” Scully said, offering her rational opinion. “Now, prison culture often breeds strong crossover bonds between cons and guards, relationships that can become extraordinarily close in the hard confines of incarceration.”

He knew she was correct, but he didn’t think that could be the case with Pfaster. “The nature of Donnie’s crimes would’ve made him a marked man. There wasn’t a guard or con in here that didn’t want him dead. Wishful thinking.”

Mulder and Scully spent the rest of the day interviewing guards, prison staff, and inmates who were the last to see Pfaster before his escape. By the end of the day, Mulder had serious suspicions concerning the prison chaplain, Reverend Orison. He’d come to the conclusion that some kind of hypnosis had most likely been in play to allow Pfaster to escape without anyone noticing. Mulder had also noticed that Scully seemed distracted, as she seemed fixated by some song that was playing from one of the speakers. She’d seemed bothered by this song, and he couldn’t think of why that would even be affecting her right now, so he’d made some crack about it being a now-ruined make out song. Unfortunately, she didn’t respond to the humor.

Mulder checked him and Scully into two rooms at the Drury Inn that evening, but not before urging her again to consider going back to D.C. She didn’t take kindly to this, accusing him of not believing her capable of handling the case, and she didn’t speak a word to him for the rest of the night. Mulder ended up having an irksome dinner by himself. The next afternoon, on Monday, January 10th, they rushed to Harrisburg, Illinois when they got word that the US Marshals had located Pfaster at a bus stop. But when they’d arrived, they’d found dazed marshals and no sign of Pfaster, but had finally gotten hold of Reverend Orison, as he’d been struck by a car in the parking lot.

After they spoke with Orison in the hospital, Mulder was angry, exasperated over the situation; all these religious nutjobs and fanatics claiming to do God’s work but using it as an excuse to commit the most atrocious crimes. He’d seen his full of it when working as a behavioral analyst with ViCAP and then when working with the Violent Crimes section.

Mulder left Orison’s hospital room and started walking down the hallway.

“Where are you going, Mulder?” Scully asked.

“To prove that man's a liar,” Mulder replied.

“How do you prove that somebody isn't being directed by God? You don't believe that it happens?”

“God is a spectator, Scully. He just reads the box scores.” Mulder felt strongly irritated, and felt like it had more to do than just his exasperation over religious fanaticism. There was something else, much deeper, but he didn’t have the time to figure that out right now.

“I don't believe that,” said Scully.

Mulder wondered where this sudden conviction was coming from after everything she’d doubted since last summer. “You think God directs that man? You think He directs him to kill?”

“Donnie Pfaster isn't dead, and we don't know that the other inmates who escaped are dead, either.”

“So… what?” Mulder was trying to wrap his brain around the idea of God using Orison for anything. “You think that God directs him to… let the prisoners out to kill?”

“No, but I believe that the Reverend believes what he's saying, that's it's God working through him,” Scully replied.

Yep, he’d heard that before. Lots of times. “Well, plenty of nut bags do. Has he ever spoken to you?”

He then saw a wounded expression come over Scully’s face. “I'm trying not to take offense.”

Mulder was now curious. Did Scully really believe that God had spoken to her? When? Why? “What did he say?”

Scully sighed. “Mulder, I have heard that song three times now. That may not mean anything to you but it means something to me.”

“What does it mean?” Mulder asked.

“I never thought about it before. It never meant anything to me until yesterday when it made me remember something.”

Mulder could tell this was important, and that Scully was about to share something personal. So he spoke gently. “What?”

She sighed again. “When I was thirteen my father was stationed in San Diego. I was listening to the radio to that song when my mother came in and told me that my Sunday School teacher had been killed.”

“Hmm...,” Mulder responded sympathetically.

“He had been murdered in his front yard,” Scully continued. “And that's the first time that I ever felt that there was real evil in the world. Mulder, Reverend Orison called me ‘Scout.’ That's the same name that my Sunday School teacher called me. Donnie Pfaster escaped from prison at 6:06 am. That's exactly the same time that I woke up yesterday morning when my power went out.”

Mulder wondered what she was getting at. “So, what do you think that God is telling you?”

But it didn’t appear to Mulder that Scully knew the answer to that question.

*****

On Tuesday morning, January 11th, Mulder and Scully found themselves in rural Illinois, standing over a crime scene, the gravesite of Reverend Orison. He’d gone missing the evening before, got up and walked out of his hospital room while Mulder was with Scully in a hospital lab looking at Orison’s brain scan. He’d been showing Scully how Orison had purposefully drilled a small hole in his head to allow his brain to swell with increased blood volume, which may explain how he could project altered perceptions through hypnosis. When they’d walked back to Orison’s room to interrogate him on this, he was gone and had left a note behind: “Don’t look any further.” And now he was dead.

“You know, it's funny, when all is said and done, there's… not much mystery in murder,” Mulder stated.

“And for that I owe you an apology, Mulder.” How could she have thought God was speaking to her? Or to Orison, for that matter?

He watched her turn to face him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you were right,” Scully said. “I was looking too hard for connections that weren't there. Orison was a murderer, plain and simple. He liberated those prisoners so he could bring them out here and pass judgment on them.”

“I guess in his own twisted way he was making good with his God. Glory. Amen. Let's go home, Scully.”

But Scully thought something was very unusual about the situation. “You know, Donnie Pfaster placed the call to the police that led us out here. It's almost like he's begging us to hunt him down.”

Mulder didn’t want to spend any more time on this than they had already. He wanted it over; he wanted Scully far away from this place. “This X-file is over. Lying dead there in a grave he dug himself. Let's let the US Marshals take over from here.”

Scully looked down. She didn’t like leaving this undone. Pfaster was still out there, and people’s lives were at stake.

“Don't look any further, Scully.”

After checking in with the US Marshals and informing them of their departure, Mulder and Scully were able to get on the 2:00 pm flight out of St. Louis and arrived at Washington Dulles International Airport at 4:55 pm local time. Scully had been uneasy on the plane ride. Something felt wrong, unfinished. Mulder kept telling her to let it go, and then made the rash statement that Scully never should’ve gone out there in the first place. Scully pursed her lips angrily and then turned away from him to look out the window. Mulder only sighed, and shook his head. They didn’t speak for the rest of the flight home, and when they landed at Dulles, Scully tersely told Mulder that she’d see him in the morning. He stared after her as she got into her car, shaking his head in frustration, before he hopped into his own car and drove to the office.

After arriving at home and unpacking her bag, she decided to go see her mother. Scully knew she must’ve been disappointed that Scully had run off to Illinois when she was supposed to have spent Sunday in Alexandria with her and Charlie and Jennifer. But upon arriving at her mother’s house, Scully found that her mother wasn’t disappointed at all. As they ate dinner together, Maggie assured Scully with a warm smile that she understood; she understood that Scully’s job means a lot to her, that she knows the work Scully does is important, and she accepts that that means Scully isn’t always available to be with them, and it’s okay. She also assured Scully that Charlie and Jennifer felt the same way.

At just past 9:45 pm, Mulder and Scully arrived back home at their respective apartments.

Scully turned on the lights as she walked through the door, and after tossing her keys on a side table, she made her way into her bedroom.

Mulder closed and locked his door, tossing his keys on the table next to the door, and then hung his trench coat on the coat rack. After kicking off his shoes by the rack, Mulder walked into his bedroom and set the case file on Orison down on his dresser. After removing his tie, dress shirt, and suit pants, Mulder hung his suit up back inside the closet along with the tie. He then threw his dress shirt into his dry cleaning pile at the bottom of his closet, and walked into the en suite bathroom to toss his undershirt into the laundry basket. Mulder walked over to his dresser and put on a black t-shirt and his black plaid flannel pajama bottoms.

After turning on the lights and tossing her trench coat on the bed, Scully set her gun down on the dresser and removed her suit jacket, also laying it on the bed. After removing her sleeveless navy blue shirt, suit pants, and her bra, she pulled her gray flannel pajamas out from the drawer and got dressed for bed. A quick glance at the clock told her the time was 9:56 pm, and after grabbing her coat off the bed and making her way towards the closet, she stopped and stared at the clock; it now read 6:66. Again. Just like it had on Sunday morning at 6:06 when her power went out, when Donnie Pfaster escaped from prison.

As she stood there, holding the clock, her power went out. Again. She turned and stared at her closet door, ajar, her fight-or-flight response kicking in, and adrenaline began coursing through her veins. _No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no._ As Scully lunged forward to close the door, it flew open.

Mulder stood in his bathroom, brushing his teeth. He remembered that he’d set his alarm for 7:00 am the previous Friday night, and needed to set it earlier for work. Mulder decided that he’d go into the office early to start writing up that report on Orison, and walked out of the bathroom to reset his alarm. Mulder held his toothbrush between his teeth and sat down on the bed, noting the time was 10:06 pm, before setting the alarm on his bedside clock to 5:00 am. While resetting the alarm, that song came on, the “Don’t Look Any Further” song Scully had been so fixated on. As he sat there listening to it, an unsettling feeling began to grow in the pit of his stomach. He walked back into his bathroom and rinsed his mouth with water after setting his toothbrush down on his sink. After lying down in bed, Mulder reached over for the cordless phone and dialed Scully’s home phone. No answer. She should be home at this time.

Once again, Scully found herself bound and gagged inside a closet because of Donnie Pfaster. She’d put up a hard fight, but he was too big, too strong. As she heard the sound of water running in her bathtub, and “Don’t Look Any Further” playing on her stereo, a sickening sensation grew in the pit of her stomach. Then she heard her telephone ring. She had to push that feeling away; she had to find the will to live and the strength to keep fighting.

Mulder sighed and hung up the phone. As he lied there, his mind raced. Why had Donnie Pfaster called them and told them where Orison’s body was? It went completely against his M.O. There had to be a reason why he wanted to lead them out there. As the unsettling sensation in his stomach turned into a tight knot of anxiety, Mulder bolted out of bed and pulled his pajama pants off, before throwing on a pair of blue jeans. He slipped his feet into a pair of shoes, grabbed his keys and his gun, threw on a jacket, and left his apartment.

The first time Scully had been in this situation, it was her family that gave her the will to fight. She thought of her mother, her brothers, her sister. She imagined them receiving the news of what had happened to her, imagined her mother collapsing in grief. With God in her heart and her mother’s face in front of her eyes, Scully had found the determination to fight Donnie Pfaster to the death. She wasn’t going to fold in fear, and succumb to her fate. She was going to fight, do everything in her power to get out of there alive, or die trying. And in every scenario since then, when Scully had found herself in mortal danger, it was her mother who gave her the strength to survive.

But now, as Scully sat on the floor in her closet, her mouth gagged and her hands tied behind her back, she realized with a sense of shock that her family no longer provided her with the will to live, not even her mother. As she remembered their recent conversation over dinner, Scully realized that her family had let her go. They’d long given up on whatever hopes they’d had for her, for her life, and allowed her to be her own person, to choose her own destiny. They gradually had let her go, because they knew they needed to let her go, because they knew that she needed them to. Scully didn’t know when this had exactly happened, but she had a strong sense that it had started with her cancer remission, with the fact that Mulder’s “crazy idea” of putting the chip back in her neck would cure her. It did. And so her family, lovingly and unconditionally, let her go and gave her over to Mulder and their quest. Even Bill Jr. He hated it, and hated Mulder, and didn’t hold back from vocalizing those feelings, but still he resigned himself to her choices and let her go.

So what can give her the will to live? The strength to survive? Scully imagined Mulder walking into their basement office tomorrow morning, turning on the lights and sitting down at the desk. He’d keep glancing at the clock, waiting for her to arrive. But as the time got closer and closer to 9:30 am, with no sign of her, he’d wonder where the hell she was. He’d start calling her home phone, her cell phone, but there would be no answer. He’d start to feel worried, but he’d push that feeling away and reassure himself that she was probably somewhere in the building. He’d head up to Skinner’s office and ask for her, he’d head to the cafeteria, the lab, the library, and maybe even the Bullpen, searching for her. He’d call her phone numbers again. He might even assume that she was still irritated with him, was avoiding him, and had refused to come in to work, forcing him to write the report on Orison by himself. Or maybe she was trying to make him feel worried on purpose, to make him come see her, to apologize. So on his lunch break he’d drive to Georgetown, and then sit in his car outside her apartment building for a few minutes before resolutely deciding to go up to her apartment. He’d knock on the door, expecting to find her there in a bad mood, angry at how he’d acted too overprotective and perhaps a little controlling. But she wouldn’t answer the door. He’d use his key and go inside. He’d look around her quiet living room, the kitchen, but there would be no sign of her. And as he walked into the bedroom, to find it in complete disarray, his heart would sink into his stomach. He’d slowly walk into her bathroom and find her body, mutilated, in a bath of water reddened with her blood. And then Mulder would go insane with grief.

That was not how it ends. This was not the end for them. Scully pushed herself forward to lie down and looked out through the crack underneath the door. She could see her gun on the bedroom floor, and glanced up at the door handle. Scully stood up with her back to the closet door, and quietly opened it with her bound hands, before lowering herself to the bedroom floor and closing the closet door with her foot. Scully then began to push herself underneath the bed to make for the other side of the room.

Mulder made it to Georgetown in 15 minutes. As he looked up at Scully’s apartment building, he saw that her lights were off. Even if she had been asleep, she would’ve woken up and answered his phone call. Mulder’s guts churned in fear as he ran inside her building and up the stairwell to the third floor.

Once Scully had made it out from underneath the bed on the other side of her bedroom floor, she rolled her wrists and shoulders, maneuvering until she’d gotten her arms over her feet and in front of her. She then began to crawl over her floor, and the broken glass that had once been her mirror, towards her gun.

Mulder didn’t even bother knocking; he pulled out his key and opened the door, walking inside. His stomach then bottomed out at the sight of Donnie Pfaster in Scully’s kitchen. Mulder frantically wondered if Scully was still alive, but pushed that thought away as he yelled for Pfaster to put his hands up. Mulder gave the order again, but Pfaster wasn’t cooperating. Pfaster then turned at the sound of Scully walking into the kitchen from the hallway.

Glorious relief overcame Mulder, and the fear that had been knotted in his stomach gave way to rage. “Did he hurt you?!”

Scully felt as if in a daze. Mulder was there and he was yelling, but she didn’t know what he was saying. Pfaster was smirking at her, evil, barbaric. The gun in her hand went off, the bullet taking out the overhead light and sending sparks flying, and then Pfaster fell to the floor.

*****

Scully’s memories of what had happened at her apartment after she shot Pfaster were a blur. She knew that Mulder had ushered her into her living room and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders before getting her a glass of water. As she sat on her couch she could smell scented candles and gunpowder. She’d heard Mulder on the phone with the police, but she didn’t know what he said exactly. He then started walking around her apartment, going into her bedroom to take in the scenario of what had occurred in there, before coming back into the living room to stare at her, amazed. He then went into the bathroom and started extinguishing the candles, feeling disgusted by Pfaster.

The police, along with the paramedics, showed up soon after this and took her statement, and Mulder’s. The EMTs treated Scully for her cuts and bruises. Afterwards, as if in a daze, she’d packed her weekender bag. When she realized that she’d have to walk into the bathroom to get some things she needed, and stared wide-eyed at the bathroom door, Mulder offered to go into the bathroom to get what she wanted. But the sound of his voice, filled with concern and protectiveness, brought her back to herself. She didn’t want Mulder to worry about her, to feel like he has to protect her from anything. Scully decisively walked into the bathroom and collected some items inside her travel toiletry bag.

Now, as Scully sat in the passenger seat of Mulder’s car, heading towards Alexandria, she didn’t really feel guilty over shooting Pfaster. This concerned her. She didn't know whether it had been God that moved her to act, or her own human tendencies for survival, and perhaps revenge. She’d taken another human being’s life, but was Pfaster even human? That was up for debate. The first time he'd tried to kill her, she couldn't get to her gun in time. If Mulder hadn't burst through the door, she would've died. This time had been different.

Mulder’s cell phone rang, and he picked it up from the center console underneath the dashboard with his right hand while his left remained on the wheel.

“Mulder.”

“Agent Mulder,” said Assistant Director Walter Skinner.

He sat up straighter. “Yes, sir?”

“Do you want to tell me how the hell this happened?”

Mulder swallowed. Who called Skinner? “I… I don’t know.”

“Well, I just got off the phone with the US Marshals. They couldn’t get ahold of you. A report just came over the wire that Donnie Pfaster was shot dead in D.C. as the result of an attack on a female FBI agent. The Marshals are extremely concerned for Agent Scully. So am I.”

“She’s fine, sir,” Mulder said, glancing over at Scully. She didn’t turn to face him, and remained looking out the passenger door window. “She’s all right.”

“How could you let this happen?” Skinner demanded.

Mulder didn’t know what to say. “I… wha…”

“I would think that after that prostitute was attacked by Pfaster, you would’ve at least had some suspicion that he was after Agent Scully. And yet, you left her all alone without any protection.”

Mulder blinked. “What prostitute?”

Scully turned her head to look at Mulder.

Skinner heaved an exasperated sigh. “The US Marshals called you, Mulder, and told you of that call girl Pfaster had attacked. Pfaster had specifically requested a redhead from the agency the girl works for. I would’ve thought that alone would have clued you in on what he was up to.”

Mulder swallowed, his stomach going into knots. “I… I never got that phone call, sir.”

Skinner sighed again. “Agent Mulder, you and Agent Scully are suspended for a week. With pay. There’s procedure to be followed, even though I’m sure this is fairly open and shut. Tell Scully that she’ll have to set up an appointment sometime this week to see one of the counselors at the Behavioral Science Unit. I also expect a full report from you on my desk by the end of the week,” Skinner gruffly said before hanging up the phone.

Scully was going to ask Mulder about the conversation, but she couldn’t gather enough interest to care right now. She suspected it was her mind’s reaction to the adrenaline rush that had consumed her not long before.

“We’re both suspended for a week. With pay, though. So, you know, silver lining.” Mulder smirked at her, trying to relieve the tension in the car, but to no avail.

Scully only nodded and turned back to the window. Once they drove into Alexandria and she noticed Mulder taking a left turn instead of a right, she looked at him in surprise.

“I thought you were taking me to my mother’s house.”

Mulder returned her surprised look. “Why would I take you there? You’re staying with me.”

She sighed. “Mulder, I don’t expect you to…”

“You don’t expect me to what? Care? Look after you?”

Scully thought Mulder’s tone had a hint of aggression, and knew that this conversation could spiral fast. But she didn’t have the energy to either change the subject or sugarcoat her feelings. “That’s not your responsibility. I don’t expect you… to do anything, Mulder. I have no expectations.”

Mulder stared at her. Out of all the emotions that were plaguing him at the moment, anger started to rise above the rest. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Mulder, I have no expectations. About anything. Work. My life. You. I just don’t.”

His eyes widened slightly. “For fuck’s sake, Scully. Then why bother coming to work? Why bother getting out of bed every morning?”

Scully sighed. How could she explain that expectations only lead to disappointment? And expecting things of Mulder could lead to the ultimate disappointment. She was taking one day at a time. It was too scary, too dangerous, to expect something, anything, from Mulder. Her heart would only break. She knew it would eventually, sooner or later, but if she didn’t have any expectations then maybe the pain wouldn’t be as bad.

The remaining few minutes to Mulder’s apartment were silent and tense. A hundred different thoughts were storming inside his head; some of Pfaster and the US Marshals, but most were of Scully. Why doesn’t she have any expectations? The work part didn’t surprise him all that much, he himself felt frustrated many times over their lack of direction lately. But why didn’t she expect anything from him? Why didn’t she feel it was his responsibility to take care of her? Because he knew that he felt that way. So why didn’t she?

Mulder parked his car and they made their way into his apartment. He shut and locked the door behind them. Scully stood in the foyer, holding her bag, with an indescribable awkward feeling. She’d spent the night here many times since November, but this felt different. She didn’t know how she felt. Mulder was angry, she could tell. She felt exhausted, but too alert to sleep. This too was a result of the adrenaline.

After Mulder turned on the lights he walked into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and pursed his lips, and then closed it. “I, uh, don’t have much right now.”

“That’s okay, I’m not hungry,” Scully said.

He sighed, opening some cabinets. “But I’ll, uh, go to the store tomorrow and buy some groceries. If you make a list in the morning, I’ll go out and get what you like.”

“Mulder, I don’t expect…”

He turned to face her, interrupting. “Yeah, I know. You don’t expect anything. But you should expect things from me. You should expect me to take care of you, look after you. I want you to expect that from me.”

Scully didn’t like where this conversation was headed. It was situations like the one they’d just experienced that made people feel like they had to suddenly make declarations. “I’m going to take a shower.”

Mulder huffed in exasperation. “Goddammit, Scully. I didn’t get involved in a personal relationship with you so that I would have something to keep me busy between cases. Or because this was the most convenient option.”

She stared at him in stunned silence from the foyer.

“Because this?” Mulder said heatedly, gesturing his right forefinger back and forth between them. “This is not convenient. You’re my partner and my friend, and honestly, I should be running in the opposite direction from this if I want to preserve those two things at all costs.”

Scully’s mouth twitched, and she found herself fighting a smile. “I’ve never known you to back down from a challenge, Mulder.”

He nodded slightly, staring at her, and lowered his voice. “But you are not just my partner, and you’re not just my friend. You mean everything to me. You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing I think about before I fall asleep. I think that gives me a certain amount of responsibility towards you. It gives you the right to expect things from me.”

“Okay,” Scully whispered, gazing at him.

Mulder suddenly felt awkward. “I’m, uh, gonna make you a cup of tea while you take a shower. I’ll grab you some pain reliever, too. And if you refuse to take it, I’m gonna call the paramedics to take you to the hospital.”

Scully suppressed a smirk, and walked through the living room, into Mulder’s bedroom, and headed in to the bathroom to take a hot shower. When she’d gotten out and dried off, she stepped out of the bathroom naked and decided she’d rather have one of Mulder’s t-shirts to sleep in instead of the pajamas she’d packed. She went to his dresser and pulled out one of his Knicks shirts. It smelled like Mulder, and she smiled to herself. Scully noticed that he had set a cup of tea next to three aspirin on the bedside table.

Mulder went and sat on the couch, and turned on the television to ESPN and sports highlights. He then looked over at his desk, and saw his answering machine flashing. His stomach turned. He got up and sat at the desk, and then pushed the play button.

“Agent Mulder, Marshall Joe Daddo in Marion. Just talked to a call girl who ID'd Donnie Pfaster as an attacker. Claims Pfaster got real upset when she was wearing a red wig. Upset she wasn't a redhead. This mean anything to you? Appreciate a call back.”

He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. Why hadn’t he checked his messages when he got home earlier? He was casually going about getting ready for bed while Scully was getting the shit kicked out of her by a psychopath. He could’ve gotten to her so much sooner. He then collapsed on his couch, allowing his emotions to battle it out. He’d almost lost Scully, again. And he was utterly responsible. Mulder tried to fight it, but a tear broke loose, and then another one. Finally he stopped fighting it and just let them fall.

Scully got into bed, sitting up and leaning against a pillow, and drank her pain pills down with her tea. She glanced to her left, Mulder’s side, and wondered when he’d come in. After she finished her tea, she turned off the light and lied down, trying to sleep, but she didn’t see how that would be possible until Mulder came to bed. She wasn’t even positive sleep would come then either. But she closed her eyes and lied there for a while, listening to the faint sounds of the television drifting underneath the door.

After some time passed, she opened her eyes, and glanced at the clock over on Mulder’s bedside table; it was 3:37 am. He still hadn’t come to bed. But she could no longer hear the television or see the flicker of light from underneath the bedroom door. Scully thought of all the times she’d almost lost Mulder, all the times he’d almost lost her, and thought of how miraculous it was that they were both alive at this moment, in his apartment, together. Things could’ve gone horribly wrong, so many times over the years. And yet here they were, together and alive.

Scully rolled out of bed and walked through the bedroom door, out to the living room, which was bathed in the soft light of the moon and street lamps coming through the window. She turned and saw Mulder lying on the couch, awake, staring up at the ceiling. She walked over to stand next to him, and looked down.

Mulder turned his head and looked up to see Scully standing there, wearing his Knicks t-shirt that almost reached her knees. “Are you okay?”

Scully nodded. “Move over.”

He briefly looked at her in surprise, and then turned to lie on his side and scooched backwards until his back was pressed against the couch. Scully lied down next to him and put her head on Mulder’s bicep, looking into his face. Mulder reached up to the back of the couch, and grabbed the large brown and tan wool blanket, draping it over their bodies.

“I don’t have long-term expectations, Mulder,” Scully whispered. “Because of how dangerous our lives are; our work is."

Mulder gazed down at her. He thought he understood now, at least somewhat.

"But that doesn’t mean I don’t expect you to behave in a way that is in harmony with what I know to be true about you," Scully continued. "And I accept the fact that we cannot separate ourselves from the work, even though I know we both regularly consider the consequences of that. So, I don’t have specific expectations, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hope for things.”

“What do you hope for?” Mulder whispered.

Scully realized that the thing she most hopes for, above all else, is that Mulder will, one day, walk away from the work. She also knows she cannot ever say that out loud, at least right now. He wasn’t ready to hear that. “Oh, just… personal things.”

He gave her a small smile. “Are these things… something I should know about?”

Scully grinned. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” he chuckled. “Will you tell me… eventually?”

“Yes, Mulder, I will tell you eventually. I promise.”

Mulder sighed. “I almost lost you.”

“I know.”

“It’s my fault, Scully.”

“Please don’t blame yourself. I can’t stand that.”

“But I could’ve gotten to you sooner.”

“Maybe you weren’t meant to save me this time, Mulder. Maybe what happened was what was supposed to happen.”

“You mean… it’s what God wanted you to do?” And Mulder thought he knew why he'd been so bothered. The idea that God would care this much about vengeance that he would direct Orison to let prisoners escape only to be murdered, and yet God would seemingly ignore prayers for something good, filled Mulder with anger. Maybe it was misplaced anger. Maybe there wasn't a God. But maybe there was. Is this a truth he could ever hope to learn?

Scully sighed. “When Donnie Pfaster went to prison, the prosecution wanted the death penalty. But I asked the judge for life. Because I thought that was a harsher punishment than a quick death. Because of that, more lives were lost. It was my fault.”

“So, what… you were righting the wrong? But I still fucked up, Scully. You could’ve been killed.”

“Mulder, what’s done is done. I would’ve shot him whether you showed up at my apartment or not. Let it go.”

Scully lifted her leg to wrap around Mulder’s hip, and she pressed her face into his chest, breathing in his scent deep into her lungs. “I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

“I can think of something that would help,” Scully purred, grinning into his chest.

Mulder chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. Scully’s hands slid up underneath his shirt, to stroke the skin of his back and stomach. With one hand in her hair, and the other on her back, he started caressing her in a deliberate way, to arouse. As his hand slid south to palm her ass, and finding she wasn’t wearing any underwear underneath the Knicks t-shirt, he groaned. Scully gave a contented hum against Mulder’s neck, as her lips caressed his skin, and suddenly the atmosphere in the room became thick with sensuality. As her tongue darted out to taste his neck, Mulder gave another groan, and she felt him begin to harden against her.

“That’s something I expected,” Scully whispered, looking up to smirk at him.

Mulder grinned, nodding his head, before capturing her lips with his, stroking the inside of her mouth with his tongue.


	53. "It's about misdirection."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Charlie clean up Scully's apartment before she returns home. Mulder and Scully head to Los Angeles, California to work a case, and then spend some time in San Diego.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chris Isaak - "Wicked Game"
> 
> The world was on fire and no one could save me but you  
> It's strange what desire will make foolish people do  
> I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you  
> And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you
> 
> No, I don't wanna fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart)  
> No, I don't wanna fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart)  
> With you (This world is only gonna break your heart)
> 
> What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way  
> What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you  
> What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way  
> What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you
> 
> And I don't wanna fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart)  
> No, I don't wanna fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart)  
> With you
> 
> The world was on fire and no one could save me but you  
> It's strange what desire will make foolish people do  
> I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you  
> And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you
> 
> No, I don't wanna fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart)  
> No, I don't wanna fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart)  
> With you (This world is only gonna break your heart)
> 
> No, I...
> 
> Nobody loves no one

On Friday morning, January 14th, Mulder made his way to Georgetown in D.C. Upon arriving at Scully’s apartment door he was greeted with Charlie Scully’s familiar tall, slender frame and auburn hair. He was holding a duffel bag.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” Mulder said, holding his hand out to shake Charlie’s.

“Yeah, no problem,” Charlie said, as Mulder turned to unlock Scully’s door. “I wanted to help.”

Once they got inside and closed the door behind them, they stopped and stared into the kitchen, at Donnie Pfaster’s blood on the floor. Charlie swallowed, blinking. Mulder glanced over at him.

“You sure you wanna do this? I can handle it by myself.”

Charlie shook his head. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just, uh, I don’t know. I’ve only ever seen this kind of thing on TV.”

“Yeah,” Mulder nodded. “Well… let’s get to work.”

Charlie set his duffel bag down on the kitchen table while Mulder went to Scully’s hall closet and took out her mop and bucket. Mulder mopped the floor while Charlie cleaned up the kitchen. Some of the drawers were a mess, and one had been pulled out and ransacked.

“What in the world this guy would’ve wanted with her silverware drawer is beyond me,” Charlie said.

“Knives and scissors,” Mulder replied matter-of-factly, standing at the sink and refilling the bucket with hot water. “They’re probably in the bathroom.”

Charlie froze, and looked up to stare at Mulder, eyes widening.

Mulder closed his eyes, sighing. “I’m sorry. I, uh… I’m sorry.”

Charlie swallowed. “So this guy? He was a real psycho, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Mulder said quietly as he added bleach to the bucket.

Once the kitchen was spotless and everything put neatly back into place, they moved into the bedroom. Charlie roamed his eyes, once again widened with horror, over the state of the bedroom: glass all over the floor, pieces of a broken lamp, scattered items that had once been perched on her book shelf. Charlie then pulled out two pairs of work gloves from the duffel bag and some garbage bags, and they began cleaning up the bedroom.

“So, uh, how’s Dana doing?” Charlie asked, as he started getting over the shock of the situation.

“She’s okay,” Mulder replied. “She’s had some bad nightmares the past few days, but other than that she’s doing all right.”

Mulder then remembered the previous night, when Scully had woken up in a state of panic after dreaming that she was drowning in a bathtub. At least that one had been a lot less graphic than the others. The nightmare that had awoken her, and him, on the couch Wednesday morning had been particularly gruesome. Last night Mulder had jumped out of bed and gotten a washcloth with cold water from his bathroom, before returning to Scully and wiping the sweat from her brow and the tears from her face. It took her a while to go back to sleep, but she finally did so after she'd pressed herself against his chest, breathing in his scent, with his leg wrapped around her hip and bending to lock her securely to him.

Charlie nodded. And then he remembered something too. “You know, her bedroom looks awfully similar to what her bedroom up in Baltimore had looked like one time.”

Mulder stared at him. “What had happened?”

“Just me with a baseball bat,” Charlie laughed darkly. “She’d been dating this guy, JJ, uh, in her first year of medical school. He was insanely jealous, and he got pretty nasty. She got rid of him, but he wouldn’t leave her alone. Anyways, he showed up at her place one night, ranting and raving, and forced himself into her apartment. She called the police, and then she called me. Well, I showed up first. With my baseball bat. Found him in her bedroom going through her drawers to find proof she’d been with other guys. He never bothered her again after that.”

“You Scullys sure are a fierce bunch,” Mulder quipped. “Remind me not to piss you off.”

Charlie eyed Mulder, but didn’t say anything.

“Did this guy, JJ you said his name was, hurt your sister?” Mulder asked, hoping the answer was negative.

“Nah, he never laid a hand on her. He was verbally abusive, though, whenever he flew into a jealous rage. Called her a whore and trash, and all that typical cave man shit. Dana’s not one to put up with that, and kicked him to the curb. That only made him crazier.”

Mulder nodded. “What happened when the police showed up?”

“We both were arrested,” Charlie replied. “JJ was arrested for breaking and entering, ended up getting charged for illegal trespass, and I was arrested for beating the shit out of him. I broke one of his ribs. The police showed up before I did any real damage, though. Dad came to the jail to bail me out. He said, ‘Congratulations on being the first Scully to ever sit behind bars.’” Charlie laughed. “Aww, Dad. Gotta love him. If only he lived long enough to see all the shit Dana got herself into with you. Anyways, he wasn’t all that angry after he learned why I was in jail. I think that was the moment he started feeling proud of me. Only took 18 years.”

Mulder stared in surprise. “You were only 18 years old when that happened?”

“Yep,” Charlie nodded. “All the charges were dropped in the end.”

After the bedroom was cleaned and in decent order, they walked into the bathroom.

“Holy fuck,” Charlie breathed, taking in the candles all over the room and noticing the knife and scissors next to the bathtub, which was still filled with water.

Mulder sighed. Once the bathroom was clean, and cleared of any and all candles, they collected the trash bags and set them by the front door.

“Thanks again for helping out,” Mulder said. “Went much faster with two people.”

“No problem,” replied Charlie. “I wanted to do something useful for Dana. And I know she wanted to get back into her apartment this weekend.”

After stepping out into the hallway, Charlie eyed Mulder as they made their way out of Scully’s apartment building. Once they reached the sidewalk outside, Charlie spoke up. “Um, Mulder, can I ask you a question?”

Mulder looked over at him as he pulled his car keys out from his coat pocket. “Sure.”

“Um… how much longer do you think you’ll be doing this?”

Mulder gave him a puzzled expression. “Doing what?”

“The X-Files,” Charlie replied.

“Uh…,” Mulder didn’t really know how to answer. “I don’t know. I’ve, uh, never had a time table.”

Charlie nodded. “But, um, is there a goal in mind? Do you have any idea how long it might take to reach that goal, before you’ve finished what you set out to do with the X-Files?”

Again, Mulder didn’t exactly know what to say. “I guess I’m just, uh, looking for the truth. I don’t know how long that will take.”

“The truth about what? Aliens? Because I thought you already proved they exist. And I know they do, after what Dana saw in Africa.”

Mulder gave him a surprised look. “She told you about that?”

“Yeah,” Charlie nodded. “With implicit instructions not to tell Mom, or Jennifer. Or Bill Jr. Although, he probably should be told. It might get him to shut up for once. But, um, what truth are you looking for now?”

“I, uh…,” Mulder sighed. “Hopefully I’ll know it once I find it.”

Charlie nodded again, silently. “Well, I gotta get going. Got team practice later this afternoon. Tell Dana I said hello.”

“Okay, I will,” Mulder said, shaking Charlie’s hand, and then watched him walk away toward his black Toyota truck. He sighed as he got into his car, knowing that the real question underneath what Charlie had asked him was how much longer Scully will have to do this, how much longer until Scully was safe from the psychos that seem to constantly threaten her life. Feelings of guilt began to knot in Mulder’s stomach.

*****

“Oh yeah, Charlie called me and said that your apartment looked like the creepiest episode of _Law & Order_ he’d ever seen.”

Scully laughed into the phone, and then sighed. “You have no idea.”

“I can imagine,” Jennifer replied. "Are you sure you're all right?"

She looked up to see Mulder coming through the door. “I'm fine. Listen, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay. Bye,” Jennifer said, before hanging up.

Scully pressed the end button on her cell phone and stood up from the couch as Mulder walked into the living room.

“Well, your apartment is spick-and-span,” Mulder said.

She sighed. “You really shouldn’t have bothered, Mulder. I could’ve just hired some cleaners.”

He pursed his lips. “Scully, it’s okay to accept my help and just say ‘thank you.’”

She suppressed a smirk. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Was that so hard?” Mulder said, smiling, despite the guilty feelings that had settled in the pit of his stomach since he’d left Charlie outside Scully’s apartment building.

Late on Friday evening, Scully sat at the dining table while Mulder stood at the kitchen sink washing their dinner dishes. He’d been quiet all day, coming and going from the apartment. After he’d gotten back from cleaning her apartment and they ate lunch together, he went to the Laundromat. Two and a half hours later he returned and put away his clean clothes, only to turn right around and leave to go running. He’d invited her to come along, Scully thought halfheartedly, but she reminded Mulder that she could never keep up with him. While he was out, she had prepared dinner: meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and buttered peas; Mulder’s favorite.

Over dinner he had told Scully that he’d heard from Skinner. After reading the case report and speaking with the psychologist she had met with at Quantico, Skinner told him that they were now both free to return to work. Other than that piece of information, Mulder was mostly quiet. Scully suspected that returning to the crime scene that was her apartment had affected him. She sighed as she watched him standing at the sink.

In the early months of their partnership they silently established the boundaries that they would work within. And as Scully sat there remembering those early times, she remembered just how much she had liked him, was attracted to him, and knew that those boundaries had been a challenge to enforce on herself at first. She knew that her natural inclination would have been to get involved personally, physically, not long after striking up a close working relationship.

That was her M.O. To shit where she eats. To dip her pen in the company ink. But, unlike the other relationships she’d found herself in previously, Mulder made no advances or sought to compromise her integrity and professionalism in any way. Mulder was not Daniel, and he was not Jack Willis. Their foundation was respect and trust and friendship, and soon those imaginary lines they’d drawn seemed necessary for their partnership’s survival. But as time went on, little by little, she and Mulder began to bend those lines between their working and personal relationship, without even consciously realizing it. And now, those lines had become almost blurred into nonexistence.

Even when they worked, as in the Orison case they’d just dealt with out in Illinois, there was such love and fierce protectiveness in the way Mulder interacted with her. She’d bristled against it and gotten angry, fighting to maintain a professional boundary between them. But she thought about what Mulder had said on the plane as they left D.C. for St. Louis; what he’d irately said to her a few nights ago when he’d brought her to stay at his apartment. And now Scully knew that boundary no longer existed as far as Mulder was concerned. It didn’t matter whether they were standing over a corpse at a crime scene, slumped over their desk writing up a case report, or entangled in bed. She was always Scully to him. There was no differentiation, nothing unequal. Unlike Daniel and Jack, Mulder never used one aspect of their relationship to gain footing or control in another.

Scully sat there watching Mulder drying the clean dishes, in his gray sweatpants and black short-sleeved t-shirt, and then stood, walking into the kitchen until she was directly behind him. She then wrapped her arms around Mulder’s waist, and whispered into his back.

“You’re a good man.”

Mulder’s breath hitched. Moments when Scully took the initiative to say or do something affectionate, outside the bedroom, always surprised him. She wasn’t typically demonstrative. And it not only filled him with surprise, but it made his heart swell with warm, tender feelings. But then he sighed, and didn’t reply. His mind was once again on Scully’s family and their concern for her welfare and safety, her fate. They’d never have peace of mind as long as she worked with him.

Scully knitted her brows. “You don’t think so?”

He only sighed again.

“Mulder, you are. I am more sure of that than I have ever been of anything.”

He smiled, set the kitchen towel down on the counter, and turned to face her, wrapping his arms around her. “I like having you here, Scully. I mean, you know, having you here for several consecutive days in a row. With no work. Just hanging out. I like it.”

She grinned up at him. “But I’m going back home tomorrow, remember.”

Scully had also liked staying with Mulder, and not having the everyday stress of work to deal with. It was just the two of them spending time together, under the same roof. It almost resembled normalcy, domesticity. She had liked it. Probably a little too much, and was anxious to get back to her own apartment.

Mulder sighed. “I know.”

Scully gave him a sympathetic smile. “And we’ll be going back to work.”

He averted his eyes. “You know, I was thinking of not taking on any more cases in the immediate future. For a few weeks, maybe.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Why?”

“Well, Scully, the Orison case put the both of us through a lot and, uh, maybe it might not be such a good thing to go jumping right away into something else that was dangerous and potentially traumatic.”

She gave him an understanding look. “But I know you, Mulder. If an intriguing case comes across your desk, no matter how dangerous, we’ll be on the next flight out of D.C.”

He twitched his mouth, and then sighed. “But things change sometimes, Scully. And I wouldn’t want… anyone to think that I, uh, feel work is more important than… other things, that I'm not capable of rearranging my priorities.”

Scully nodded, smiling. She then pushed her hands underneath the hem of Mulder’s t-shirt and started languidly brushing her fingertips up and down the warm skin of his back. Mulder brought his hands up to hold her face gently towards him, and lowered his head to kiss her softly. They hadn't had sex since their night on the couch when she'd first arrived at his apartment, and the air soon became charged.

That night their physical intimacy was tender and romantic, as they lay down side by side with Scully’s back to Mulder, his one hand fondling her breasts and his other pressing down on her swollen clit in firm circles, his mouth at her face and neck, kissing and whispering, the thrusts of his hard cock into her wet cunt from behind were slow and deep. Scully had always preferred the hard and fast approach, and was surprised that her body had responded with two orgasmic releases. Mulder savored the sound of Scully crying out his name as her brain flooded with pleasure, triggering his own climax.

On Saturday morning, Scully packed up her weekender bag and brought it out to the foyer, before slipping on her shoes and putting on her coat.

“Oh, Scully! You left your travel case underneath my bathroom sink.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Um, that’s okay! Leave it there.”

Mulder walked through his bedroom door to stand in the opening to his foyer. “Don’t you need to take it with you?”

Scully, to her own annoyance, felt herself blushing. “Well, um…”

A grin slowly spread across Mulder’s face. “Did you want to leave it here?”

She averted her eyes. “Uh, yeah, I think it’s probably a good idea.”

“Me too,” he replied, eyes twinkling as he gazed at her.

“Okay, well,” Scully sighed. “I’ll see you Monday morning. Back to work.”

Mulder smiled, and nodded. “Back to work.”

He watched Scully grab her bag, nod her head at him as she went out the door, closing it behind her. Mulder sat down on his couch, smiling to himself, before a twinge of anxiety filled his stomach. He began calculating how long it would take Scully to reach her apartment, and decided to call her so he knew that she made it home all right.

*****

At 10:13 am, Scully stood outside her apartment, staring at the door. She realized she was afraid, but she knew this was an irrational fear. Donnie Pfaster was dead. No one was in her apartment. She was in no danger. Yet, her fight or flight response was kicking in, and her hand shook as she brought her key up to unlock her door. The sound of her telephone ringing helped her to steel herself and walk through the door. After closing and locking the door behind her, she walked quickly to the phone and answered it. It was Mulder, just as she’d suspected, calling to make sure she’d made it back okay. Scully thought that maybe he was just as irrationally fearful as she was about her being back at her apartment.

After assuring Mulder that she was fine, Scully hung up and looked around. Her apartment appeared spotless, and it smelled like bleach. She walked down her hallway and as she stood in front of her bedroom doorway, she froze. Her heart started pounding and her palms started sweating, her breathing quickened and her guts churned in fear. Scully tried to rationally talk herself down, reassure herself that there was nothing to be afraid of. But as she stepped into her bedroom, a sickening sensation grew in the pit of her stomach, and after a wide-eyed stare at her closet door, she dropped her bag on the floor and rushed into her bathroom, bile rising up in her throat, dropped to her knees and heaved over the toilet. The lingering scented candle smell only made her gag even more.

As Scully lay down to press her overheated cheek against the cool tile of the bathroom floor, she thought of calling Mulder, telling him that she needed him, that she didn’t want to be alone. Her eyes filled with tears. _Jesus Christ, Dana, pull it together._

She had always relied on herself, and the idea that Dana Scully needed a man was bridling. But Mulder wasn’t just some man; he was her partner, her dearest friend. That’s what she needed, her friend. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to admit that to Mulder, to get on the phone and tell him that she needed him. She didn’t want to start relying on him more than she already did. She had to deal with this herself, hold on to her independence, and check the growing co-dependency. But Scully curled herself up into the fetal position, tears streaming down her face, wishing she was back at Mulder’s apartment.

On Sunday morning, January 16th, Scully awoke on her couch. Eventually she’d gotten off her bathroom floor, changed into her black plaid flannel pajamas, made a fire in the living room fireplace, and turned on the television. Later that night, she fell asleep on her couch with every light on inside the apartment.

That Sunday morning Scully showered and had the good intentions of dressing in her brown Prada skirt suit and driving to Alexandria to attend Mass at St. John’s Church with her mother. But then she got a phone call from Mulder just before 7:00 am.

“Yes?” she answered with phony suspicion.

Mulder chuckled. “Hey Scully. How does Los Angeles, California sound right now?”

“In what context?” she asked, already making conclusions.

“An X-file.”

Scully sighed. “Mulder, it’s Sunday. You know I’m spending the day with my mother.”

“Come on, Scully. We’ve got a case. And one that will intrigue you, but I’ll fill you in on the details later.”

 _Of course you will._ Scully sighed. “Mulder…”

“Think of the sunshine, Scully. And the ocean. And, I don’t know, what else is out there? The palm trees. Wouldn’t it be nice to get out of D.C. for a few days? This won't be a waste of your time.”

She rolled her eyes. Scully was going to protest, but then the thought of putting off spending another night at her apartment sounded kind of appealing.

Mulder took her silence for her typical acquiescence. “I got us two tickets on the first nonstop flight to L.A. It leaves at 8:15 am. I’ll meet you at the airport.”

Scully sighed and hung up the phone, grabbed her weekender bag, and started hurriedly packing.

*****

Late on Thursday morning, January 20th, Mulder and Scully walked out of a Los Angeles city jail bantering about magic tricks. Mulder got on the phone to find out if there were seats available on any flights back to D.C. that day, but there wasn’t anything until Friday afternoon. After he hung up the phone, Scully suddenly got an idea. She wasn’t in a hurry to return to D.C., and her apartment. Plus, the Southern California weather was so perfect, 72 degrees and sunny. Scully thought the sunshine was doing wonders for her overall mood.

“So when’s the next flight?” she asked.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Mulder replied. “So we get another night at the spectacular Econo Lodge in Inglewood.”

Scully nodded, averting her eyes. “Um, Mulder, what do you think about staying longer?"

He raised his eyebrows. “How much longer?”

“Oh… the weekend. We could fly back on Sunday.”

Mulder gazed at her, licking his lips. “That wouldn’t be so bad.”

Scully nodded. “I was thinking, uh, what if we drove down to San Diego?”

Mulder gave her a blank stare. “Scully, I have no interest in seeing Bill Jr.”

“Good, because neither do I,” Scully quipped.

“So why San Diego?”

She smiled. “I happen to like San Diego. It’s where I spent my formative teenage years, if you recall.”

He grinned, nodding his head. Mulder wished he’d known a teenage Scully. “Okay, let’s go. I’d like to hear all about those formative teen years, Scully. Especially you, in that Catholic schoolgirl uniform.”

Scully tried to suppress a smirk, but failed. “You do, huh?”

“I’m all for a trip down your memory lane,” Mulder said, waggling his eyebrows. “Let’s pretend we’re back in high school, Scully.”

She snorted, shaking her head. After checking out of their motel and leaving their Bureau-issued silver Ford Taurus with the L.A. field office, they hopped in a taxi and Scully directed the driver to Regency Rental in Marina Del Rey. Scully kind of liked the idea of reliving the happy times in San Diego with Mulder. When they arrived at Regency Rental, Mulder walked around the parking lot checking out the collection of classic and luxury cars. He wondered if Scully was picking out a Mercedes Benz or a BMW. Upon seeing Scully walk out of the office door, he headed over and grabbed their bags from inside, before joining her in the parking lot.

“They’re pulling the car around,” she told him.

Mulder then stared as a white 1970’s Cadillac Eldorado Convertible with dark red leather interior pulled up next to them.

“Look, Starbuck, it’s the great white whale,” Mulder deadpanned.

Scully laughed. “I thought you wanted to hear all about my teenage years, Mulder.”

He turned to look at her. “This car was a part of that?”

She nodded, gazing at it. “Definitely.”

Mulder glanced between Scully and this boat of a car, and wondered how exactly a Cadillac Eldorado figured into her young life. He was excited to find out. Scully then got into the driver’s seat as Mulder loaded their bags into the trunk. The hour-long drive down the coast to San Diego was an enjoyable one. Scully had turned on the radio and played the music loud. Mulder kept glancing over at her smiling face with her black sunglasses, bobbing her head to the music. He didn’t recognize most of the songs as they were current, but he still enjoyed watching Scully mouth along with the words. Mulder imagined what Scully had been like as a teenager, a carefree California girl, and smiled.

Once they reached the city, Scully drove to Nico’s on Mount Acadia Boulevard. The place was a real hole in the wall, and so she knew Mulder would like it. The restaurant was a local favorite, with its homemade spicy salsa and outstanding guacamole. Once seated at a table inside, Mulder ordered an iced tea while Scully ordered an ice water with lemon.

But as the waitress started to walk away, Scully turned abruptly. “Actually, scratch that. Can we get a pitcher of margaritas?”

Mulder stared at her in surprise as the waitress turned and nodded, writing the order on the ticket. Scully occasionally drank wine or had a beer, but he’d never known her to drink liquor. He’d never guessed she was a tequila kind of woman. Especially not a tequila-at-lunchtime kind of woman.

“Margaritas are a requirement for vacation,” Scully explained, shrugging.

He gazed at her, grinning.

After a couple minutes their pitcher arrived along with two salt-rimmed margarita glasses, and Scully started pouring. Mulder wanted Scully to choose their food, “so we can eat like the locals,” and she ordered fish tacos and carne asada burritos to share.

“This is so good,” Scully said after taking a drink from her second margarita.

Mulder nodded. “So, uh, Scully, are you gonna tell me how the last great American whale factors into your teenage experience?”

Scully grinned. “My high school boyfriend owned a white 1976 Cadillac Eldorado Convertible.”

He blinked, his interest peaked. “Your boyfriend?”

“Yes. Marcus.”

Mulder smirked. “So, what you’re trying to tell me is that you spent a lot of time in the back seat of that car, is that right?”

Scully bit her bottom lip, trying to suppress a grin. “Not a lot, no. But some, yes. He got the car as a graduation gift a couple weeks after our senior prom. We only had a few weeks together after that, before he went off to college in Santa Clara and my family moved back east. So, we weren’t able to spend a whole lot of time in the back seat.”

Over the course of their lunch, Mulder came to the conclusion that tequila makes Scully laugh a lot. She told him this story about her senior prom night and having to ride back into town on a fire truck, and then started laughing after mentioning a sense of déjà vu, but Mulder didn’t really know what she was laughing about. She just blushed furiously and started giggling. He could only chuckle along with her; he loved it when she laughed. It was infectious.

Mulder also came to the conclusion that tequila makes Scully flirt, as her foot had slid out of her shoe and found its way to his right leg, and there it stayed all through lunch. Every time they looked at each other during their meal, her wide blue eyes twinkled back at him with suggestiveness from across the table.

“Scully, if you don’t stop that things are going to get very embarrassing for me,” Mulder quipped, feeling his groin begin to tighten.

“Don’t stop what?” she asked innocently, smirking at him.

Mulder pursed his lips.

“Tell me about your prom,” Scully said, her foot still stroking his calf.

He felt the familiar sense of humiliation, and hesitated.

“Come on. I told you my story, Mulder. What was your date’s name?”

Mulder sighed. “Christine.”

“Was she your girlfriend?” Scully asked.

He shook his head. “I never had a girlfriend in high school. She was just a girl I asked to the prom.”

Scully nodded. “Did you like her?”

“Yes, I liked her a lot. I was crazy about her, actually. But, um, her mother was sort of friends with my mom, and Christine was pushed into accepting my invitation. When we arrived at the high school gym, she promptly ditched me to hang out with her friends.”

Her eyes widened with shock. Scully couldn’t see how anyone wouldn’t want Mulder as their date to anything. “I can’t believe that. Did you at least get to have some fun? Hang out with your friends?”

Mulder sighed. “I didn’t really have friends, Scully.”

She gave him a puzzled look.

“The Vineyard was a small community. And I was the weird kid with a bad haircut, divorced parents, and a kid sister who’d disappeared. People gave me a wide berth, especially girls.”

Scully sighed. “Well, girls certainly don’t give you a wide berth now. Did you even notice the way our waitress was looking at you?”

Mulder furrowed his brows with confusion, and eyed her warily. “Uh, no. I wasn’t looking at her, I was looking at you. Why? How was she looking at me?”

Scully snorted, shaking her head. “She was looking at you exactly like how most of the women at work look at you when you walk around the hallways. She obviously thinks you’re hot, just like the rest of us do.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he started grinning. “You think I’m hot, Scully?”

She blushed, inwardly chiding herself. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

But Mulder kept grinning. “So, uh, what do you have planned for this weekend down memory lane? Because I want to experience all the good stuff. Do you think you could get your hands on a Catholic school uniform?”

Scully twitched her mouth, trying to suppress a smirk, and arched an eyebrow.

After they’d finished their lunch, they eventually left the table and headed back out to the car, Scully handing Mulder the keys as he’d had a significantly less amount of margarita than her. She directed him to drive down to the waterfront and then chose the Manchester Grand Hyatt, where they checked into a room in the hotel’s Harbor Tower.

Once they’d unpacked and changed into casual clothing, they spent a lazy afternoon laying on their stomachs on the king-size bed watching television. A syndicated episode of _Frasier_ came on, and while Mulder hated this show, being next to Scully made it almost watchable. Just before 6:00 pm, after the second _Frasier_ episode started going off the air, they lay there staring blankly at the rolling credits in silence. Neither of them had laughed once during the two episodes. Mulder thought that fact was amusing in an ironic way, and as their heads turned to look at each other they burst out laughing as soon as they made eye contact. They had no idea what was so funny, but they just kept on laughing.

“That’s an hour of my life I’ll never get back,” he quipped.

“Oh, don’t even go there! How about the last five days, Mulder? You brought me out here just so we could get jerked around by some sneaky magicians. Is this the kind of work we’ve resorted to? What is even going on with my life?”

While Scully was teasing Mulder good-naturedly with a tone of phony frustration, she honestly had felt moments of real frustration and annoyance over that case. What the hell was the point of it? Why were they even there? The local PD could’ve handled it. Is this really what Mulder wants to do with his life? Does this mean she’ll be forever stuck on this never-ending line of strange cases that go nowhere? Is this all her life will ever be?

Mulder reached over to tickle her, something she hated, but she was quicker and grabbed his arm, pushing him over to lay on his back. The atmosphere in the room suddenly changed, and not long after that Scully was laying down between Mulder’s legs and her hot, wet mouth was sliding up and down Mulder’s engorged cock.

“Oh, God,” he moaned as he felt her lick his balls while smoothly stroking her hand up and down his hard shaft, twisting over the sensitive head.

Scully hummed against him.

“You’re fucking amazing,” he moaned as she sucked one of his balls gently into her mouth. It’s not like she’d never done this before, but every time she did it he felt surprised and became incredibly aroused.

Her mouth soon returned to his cock, sliding down until he felt the tip brush the back of her throat, causing him to shiver.

“Scully… Scully... fuck, Scully… so fucking good… aahhh, I’m gonna come…”

She could hear the desperation, and began to squeeze tighter, stroke faster, suck harder. Mulder opened his eyes to glance down at her red hair bobbing up and down his cock, and when their eyes met that look alone caused him to explode in her mouth.

“Scully! Fuck!”

She held him in her mouth, milking his release until his orgasm passed, before swallowing and licking him clean, and then gently stroked his cock as it softened.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Mulder said, breathing heavily. “Did you know that?”

“Yes,” Scully replied matter-of-factly, smirking as she moved off the bed.

He started laughing. “Okay, good. Glad we got that cleared up.” He then watched her head into the bathroom. “Hey, what about you?”

“Later,” she replied. “I’m going to take a shower and get ready for the evening.”

After they had both showered and dressed, Scully suggested heading to the movie theater. Neither of them had been out to see a new movie in quite a while, and after telling Mulder that going to the movies was a regular weekend occurrence as a teenager, he waggled his eyebrows and asked if they could sit in the back row. After heading to the Pacific Theatre on Fifth Avenue, they bought tickets for _The Talented Mr. Ripley_ , and after acquiring soda and popcorn, they occupied two seats in the back row of the theater. The movie was actually pretty good, and any make out plans Mulder might’ve had dissipated over their interest in the film.

On Friday morning, Scully decided to surprise Mulder and took him on the 90 minute drive to Caltech’s Palomar Observatory in Cleveland National Forest. They walked around the Greenway Visitor Center museum, and then took a group tour around the Observatory, which allowed Mulder to finally see the famous 200-inch Hale Telescope. Scully’s heart swelled at the huge smile plastered on Mulder’s face the entire day, as his childlike nature completely took over with its enthusiasm and wide-eyed wonder. When in the gift shop, Scully bought him a charcoal gray t-shirt with a white Palomar Observatory logo on the upper left chest, and a George E. Hale quote on the back: “Make no small plans, dream no small dreams.” She thought it was fitting for Mulder. They stayed until just before closing time, 3:00 pm, and then drove back to San Diego.

On Saturday, the weather actually rose up to 80 degrees and they spent the whole day in La Jolla, one of her former haunts. Mulder attempted to hold Scully’s hand a few times while they walked around, but to his frustration, she always pulled away. Her demeanor towards him was friendly and she was having a good time, but he supposed the whole public display of affection thing was still a work in progress.

In the afternoon they walked around La Jolla Cove Beach before checking out the Sunny Jim Cave. After walking into the Cave Store on Coast Boulevard, they paid the small fee and climbed down the 145-step stairway and through a tunnel to explore the cave. Scully told Mulder a story of when her and her sister were teenagers, they had kayaked through the other sea caves along the shore and came across some nefarious persons smuggling booze. The men aggressively yelled at her and Melissa, and Scully thought they were going to be killed by these criminals, but the men didn’t threaten them and let them leave unharmed. It was a terrifying experience that they learned to laugh about later on. It was also a story they had kept a secret from the rest of their family, and Mulder smiled as Scully said that Melissa wouldn’t mind her telling him. Mulder had wanted to hear her stories about the back seat in the Eldorado, but she’d only grin every time he brought it up.

After arriving back at their hotel in the early evening, they showered and dressed for dinner. Scully didn’t have a Catholic school uniform of course, but on Friday after they’d gotten back from the Palomar Observatory, when Mulder had laid down to take a nap, she quietly shopped around at some of her favorite boutiques and purchased a knee-length plaid pencil skirt, which was a close enough match to the plaid pattern of her old uniform and its colors of navy blue, green, white, and black. Scully topped it off with her white short-sleeved button down blouse and her black suit jacket, and she could tell Mulder was eyeing her as they made their way out of the hotel and to the Cadillac, where they put the hood up as it had started to get a lot cooler out since the sun had set.

“So, Mulder, where would you like to go?” Scully asked after she got into the passenger seat. “You’ve got your pick of a pizza place or a diner.”

He gave her an amused look. “Those are my only two options?”

Scully smirked. “Yes, because those were pretty much the only two places Marcus and I went to most of the time once he got his car. Unless you want to go to an arcade.”

Mulder raised his eyebrows. “Am I going to hear some back seat stories, Scully?”

She chuckled. “I’m just sharing some teenage memories.”

He nodded. He hoped he was in store for some good ones. “The diner.”

Scully smiled, and then directed him to Rudford’s on El Cajon Boulevard. Rudford’s was a 24-hr diner that had been around since the late 1940’s, and it served old-fashioned home-style food in a silver-walled restaurant with red leather booths. Once seated, Mulder ordered the chicken fried steak with country gravy and Scully chose the grilled pacific red snapper.

“So tell me about Marcus,” Mulder said after taking a sip of his iced tea. “How many years of your teenage life did he occupy?”

“Years,” she scoffed. “Only the 12th grade. Um, well, he was captain of the basketball team.”

Mulder shook his head. “I knew it.”

Scully gave him a puzzled look. “Knew what?”

“You were a cheerleader, right? I always thought that about you. That you had been one of the popular girls and your boyfriend was the quarterback of the football team and you got straight A’s and everyone loved you.”

She scoffed again. “The straight A’s part is right. The rest of it is way off.”

Mulder grinned. “Enlighten me.”

“In no way, shape, or form was I ever a cheerleader,” Scully said, giving him a brief pointed stare. “I wasn’t popular, but I was friendly with most of my classmates. The uniforms helped, as there wasn’t pressure to wear the coolest, most expensive clothes. But my family was neither rich nor native San Diegans. You’re forgetting a vital piece of information about me, and that I was a navy brat and lived on the base. So, I was kind of an outsider, and I wore glasses and got good grades. But I was nice to everyone and didn’t really have a hard time. In November of my senior year, Marcus Hayes needed a tutor in math or he was facing academic suspension from the basketball team, and so I was assigned to assist him in the library after school.”

“And young love bloomed,” Mulder said teasingly.

Scully tilted her head from side to side. “Well… it felt that way at the time. But what does a 17 year old girl really know about such things? I was obsessed with him, I know that. And the shocking thing was that he had been just as infatuated as I was.”

He shot her a puzzled look. “Why would that be shocking?”

“I thought he’d go for the cheerleader type,” Scully grinned. “Tall, blonde, and really perky.”

Mulder laughed. “So, uh, once he got that whale of a car, I imagine you two found some good parking spots.”

Scully took a bite of her fish. “Mm-hmm.”

He gazed at her. “Scully?”

“Yes?”

Mulder lowered his voice. “Did you lose your virginity in the back seat of a white 1976 Cadillac Eldorado Convertible?”

She chewed her bottom lip, trying to stop herself from smirking, but it wasn’t working very well. Mulder grinned, his eyes going wide and eyebrows rising up as Scully blushed.

Just before 10:00 pm, they left Rudford’s and headed out to the parking lot, getting inside the car. After Mulder turned the ignition, he glanced over at Scully as he buckled his seat belt. “I’d like to hear something from your back seat tales, Scully. Tell me about those make out spots.”

Scully smiled, gazing over at him. “How about I show you instead?”

He froze, staring at her. “The place you lost your virginity. Let’s go there.”

“Okay, but I’m going to have to drive,” Scully replied. “You’ll miss it in the dark if you don’t know what you’re looking for.”

“How many guys have you said that to?” Mulder deadpanned.

Scully laughed at the innuendo, and opened her car door. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

Mulder grinned, got out of the driver’s side, and walked around to get into the passenger seat. Scully drove towards Lake Murray, about eight minutes away, and after turning left onto Baltimore Drive, she drove up a ways before she could turn to drive down the other side of the street. She then kept her eyes peeled until she saw the familiar well-hidden lane on the right, and slowly turned onto it before turning off the headlights.

“The Lake Murray entrances close at sundown, but this lane will take us to a lakeside road that’s about three and half miles long,” Scully explained.

After finding a grassy area off the road, mostly surrounded by trees, she backed the Cadillac into the spot so that the car was facing the lake. Mulder watched as Scully turned the radio on, keeping the volume low, unbuckled her seatbelt, opened her car door, moved the front seat all the way forward, and got into the back seat directly behind Mulder. She removed her black suit jacket, and then pulled a bath towel she’d taken from the hotel room out from under the front seat and laid it across the red leather back seat.

Scully then gazed at him as she sat down, staring back at her from the front seat. “Are you going to join me, or what?”

Mulder didn’t need to be asked twice. He got out of the car, moved the seat all the way forward, closed his door, and then walked around to the driver’s side and got into the back seat, before shutting the door behind him. He then scooched over next to Scully, throwing his right arm around her shoulders as she slightly turned to the side to face him.

“Is this what you did with Marcus?” Mulder whispered.

“I don’t want to talk about Marcus anymore,” Scully answered, gazing at him and lifting her hand to caress his face.

Mulder grinned. “But I’m curious. How was it?”

Scully shook her head, suppressing a smirk. Mulder was always curious. “Memorable and forgettable all at the same time.”

“Did you come? Did Marcus ever make you come?”

She scoffed, and wondered why Mulder even wanted to know this stuff about her. “Of course not. He didn’t know what he was doing, and neither did I. We were 18. Why does it matter?”

Mulder shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, really. I just wanted to know. I want to know everything. I can just close my eyes and pretend we went to high school together.”

Scully sighed, smiling at him. “Kiss me.”

Mulder bent his head down and captured her lips with his, softly at first before deepening the kiss. He then brushed his tongue across her lips, seeking entrance. She opened her mouth to him, and he slowly swept his tongue inside to stroke her skin, caress her tongue, registering her contours to his memory. He wanted to remember this night for the rest of his life.

Scully began moaning softly into his mouth as their kissing turned passionate. Mulder then dropped his head to caress his lips down her jawline and down to kiss her neck, as his left hand moved from her waist to start unbuttoning Scully’s blouse, pausing in between as he slowly undid one button at a time. She started panting in anticipation, her clit tightening and wet desire pooling at her hot center.

“You know, Scully,” he whispered against her neck. “There could be dangerous unknown persons out here at night.”

“Maybe,” Scully replied. “But that’s not likely at Murray Lake unless things have seriously changed around here. Besides, our badges and our guns are under the front seat.”

“We could get in serious trouble for indecent exposure.”

“True. But I don’t think law enforcement goes into the park at night.”

“Do you want to stop?” Mulder asked.

“No.”

He nodded as he undid the last button of her blouse. Mulder pushed the fabric aside and his deft fingers, upon happily discovering that Scully was wearing a bra with a front clasp, snapped it open and pushed the cups away from her chest. Mulder recaptured Scully’s lips as his hand palmed her soft breast, running his thumb over her hardening nipple, and she started whimpering into his mouth.

The melodic sound of the radio, the feel of her warm lips on his, the insistence of her tongue, the soft weight of her breast, was sending a fresh rush of blood to his groin and his hard cock strained painfully inside his dark jeans. He moved his hand from her breast to palm and squeeze her ass through her plaid skirt. God, he loved her ass. It was so perfect.

Scully couldn’t wait anymore, the ache of her throbbing clit driving her mad. “Sit back against the seat.”

Mulder, wide-eyed, moved until he was flush up against the back of the seat. Scully tossed her blouse to the side and removed her bra, before unzipping her skirt.

"No, leave the skirt on," Mulder said in a low voice.

She grinned, pleased that she'd bought the skirt, and zipped it back up. She then reached under the skirt and pulled her pale pink panties down and off her legs. She then got on the car floor in front of a heavily breathing Mulder and unbuttoned his jeans, before pulling down the zipper and hooking her thumbs in two belt loops. She then tugged his jeans down as he lifted his naked hips off the seat. He’d gone commando. She looked upwards to stare at his face in surprise.

“I didn’t want to do laundry until we got back to D.C.,” Mulder explained.

She smirked, and then her body rose over his legs before turning to sit on his lap facing away from him. Mulder stared at the smooth skin of her strong back as he lifted the hem of the skirt to bunch at her waist, and then stared at her soft and perfectly round ass on his lap. When Scully leaned forward slightly and guided his engorged cock to the entrance of her wet cunt, and she lifted her hips to sheathe him inside her to the hilt, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven as he held on to her ass and watched his thrusting cock slide in and out of her. God, she was so fucking hot.

Scully whimpered and mewled, as her head lolled and her hands grasped the back of the front seat while she worked her hips over Mulder’s hard cock. Every thrust was hitting that sensitive spot in her front wall, the exquisite tension building and building as if a coil was tightening. The strokes of her tight cunt would bring Mulder close to the edge but then she’d stop, delaying his gratification.  
  
“Scully, you’re making me crazy.” His own rising tension building in his balls; waves of pleasure streaking out across his tightening groin to his stomach and thighs.

She was soaking wet and swollen, the throb at her center ached unbearably. “Rub my clit,” she breathed.

Mulder decided that he was going to drive her just as crazy. “You didn’t ask nicely.”

Scully whimpered. “Now, please. Rub my clit. Make me come. Please.”

He grunted his satisfaction, before reaching his right hand down to her center and rubbing her clit with two fingers, in circles, increasingly pressing harder and stroking faster. Scully clenched the muscles of her inner walls around him to show him some appreciation, and he groaned. She could feel her orgasm immediately coming on, welling up from deep inside the pit of her knotted stomach.

“Mulder… Mulder…,” she whimpered, her orgasm building and building towards its precipice.

“Come, Scully,” he groaned, feeling his groin tighten even more, the pressure in his balls building. “I want your tight cunt to fucking come all over my hard cock.”

His explicit words did it, broke the tension and the tightened coil at her center sprung loose, her orgasm hitting her forcefully, as she squeezed her eyes shut and ground her hips against him, her moans filling the car and her fingers digging into the seat in front of her. Scully then quickly reached her right hand down past her center and squeezed Mulder’s taut balls while his fingers continued to strum her clit as she rode out her orgasm.

Mulder’s eyes slammed shut and he was seeing stars as an intense orgasm surged through his body, his hands moving to grip her ass hard, loud guttural moans escaping his throat, his cock thrusting deep inside her, hot seed filling her womb in copious spurts.

“Oh, my fucking God, Scully,” he panted, his head falling back against the seat, his erection softening, his hands caressing her ass.

She felt exhausted, and was thankful for the strong muscles in her legs. “Which one of us is the most capable of driving back to the hotel?”

Mulder laughed, affectionately moving his hands to caress her back as she leaned over the front seat. Scully was always thinking rationally, always practical. Eventually Mulder did get behind the wheel for the 15 minute drive back to the Manchester Grand Hyatt on the waterfront. And the next morning, Sunday the 23rd of January, they departed the hotel and drove back to Los Angeles, returned the car, and took a taxi to LAX to get their nonstop flight back to D.C.

*****

Scully was now perfectly glad to have gone out to California, despite the pointlessness of their initial reason for going out there. She felt the sunshine did her good, and being back in San Diego had filled her with warm, happy memories from her younger days. She’d enjoyed hanging out with Mulder, and wished they did that kind of thing more often. Scully thought there was nothing better than taking several days off to just have some fun with your best friend.

But as Scully approached her apartment door, she was filled with a sense of dread. Her stomach went into tight knots of fear as her fight or flight response kicked in, her breathing quickened and her palms became sweaty. She felt panic rising up in her chest and her hand shook as she pulled out her keys from her coat pocket and unlocked her door, the pleasant feelings she'd carried back with her from San Diego vanishing.


	54. "Somebody offering you all the answers could be a very powerful thing."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder ponders the current state of his life. Skinner questions Mulder. Mulder and Scully head to rural Tennessee to investigate a case.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of the episode "Signs and Wonders" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Jeffrey Bell, and belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depeche Mode – “Newborn”
> 
> Newborn  
> For the first time  
> I'm not born again  
> I have never lived at all  
> I've opened up my eyes  
> Now I hear the world talking  
> Opened up my eyes  
> I've just started walking  
> I've just started walking
> 
> I've got someone who cares for me  
> Someone who believes in me  
> I've got someone understanding me  
> Someone crying over me
> 
> For all the right reasons  
> For all the right reasons
> 
> Newborn  
> For the first time  
> I'm not born again  
> I have never lived at all  
> I've opened up my eyes  
> Now I hear the world talking  
> Opened up my eyes  
> I've just started walking  
> I've just started walking
> 
> I've got someone seeing grace in me  
> Someone respecting me  
> I've got someone who's there for me  
> Someone saying prayers for me
> 
> For all the right reasons  
> For all the right reasons

Early on Tuesday morning, January 25th, Mulder was in his basement office at FBI headquarters, leaning back in his desk chair with his hands behind his head, daydreaming about San Diego with Scully. That had been… fun. Not the fun that comes along with getting to the bottom of a mystery, making strange and new discoveries, or even spending the night getting mindfucked in a haunted house on Christmas Eve. Or even the kind of fun that comes along with having sex. The weekend spent in San Diego had been pure, unadulterated fun; amusing enjoyment that served as a distraction from everyday life. When was the last time he had fun?

Mulder had also laughed a lot. Not just chuckled at something amusing. Real laughter, loud, the kind you feel deep in your stomach and that releases endorphins. San Diego was… perfect. Having simple fun was one of those things that had slipped away from him, a vestige of his youth that he was now beginning to experience again. When was the last time he’d felt like this? And as Mulder sat at his desk, pondering this question, he quickly arrived at the answer: Never. He’d never felt this way. Never in his 38 years of life had he ever been this happy.

Mulder thought back to the man he was before Scully walked through his door, and he could barely recognize that bitter, angry nutcase he used to be. That crackpot who never set foot outside the basement office unless forced, which was rare because no one particularly wanted to see him elsewhere in the building, ranting and raving about extraterrestrials and conspiracies to the walls because there was no one there to listen. No one wanted to hear it.

No one, until a 29 year old doctor from Quantico was forced on him and instead of spying on him for their superiors and writing reports to thoroughly debunk his work like she was supposed to do, she listened to what he had to say. She wasn’t what they thought she was. She was someone who laughed hysterically in the rain over losing nine minutes. She laughed because she couldn’t explain it. Nothing in her scientific or medical training could provide an explanation for what was happening, and she couldn’t wrap her brain around that. And because she couldn’t explain it, she wanted the answers. She wanted the truth. So he stuck his hook in her, turned around and ran.

Mulder was finally leaving the basement, and on a regular basis. He could now walk freely around the FBI hallways with his head held high, because having the respect of someone like Dana Scully made him start to believe that he might actually deserve respect from other people. Maybe he wasn’t such a crackpot after all. His work suddenly had impetus, direction, meaning, and hopefully, a destination. He was finally achieving something worthwhile, and people were noticing. The truth was out there, and with Scully now by his side, he firmly believed he could find it. A quest was born. An initially reluctant partnership became a life-altering friendship. Gradually, and without being consciously aware of it, that friendship became the most important thing in his life, because without it there would be no quest and he would never learn the truth, it would be over.

The telephone rang. He sighed and reached for the receiver.

“Mulder.”

“Agent Mulder,” said Assistant Director Skinner.

“Yes, sir.”

“Has Agent Scully arrived yet?”

Mulder glanced at the clock; it was 8:06 am. “No, not yet, but she should be here any minute now.”

“When she arrives I’d like to see you both in my office,” Skinner said.

“Uh, yes, sir. We’ll be there.”

As Skinner hung up the phone, Mulder wondered what this could possibly be about. Ten minutes later, Mulder watched Scully walk through the door in her knee-length black skirt suit and blue button down blouse. He smiled as she hung her trench coat up on the rack, but that smile faded when she turned to look at him. She greeted him with a halfhearted smile, and her face was unreadable. She was closed to him. Just like she’d been yesterday.

“Good morning,” she said as she approached the desk and sat in the chair facing Mulder.

“Uh, good morning, Scully.” He noticed that she looked tired.

She nodded, averting her eyes. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”

Mulder eyed her across the desk. What was wrong with her? She’d been fine when they said goodbye at the airport on Sunday afternoon, but then she had been completely unreadable yesterday, as if a wall was in front of her. When they walked out of the office yesterday afternoon, she told him she’d see him in the morning. He’d hoped to spend the night together, but that clearly wasn’t part of Scully’s plan.

“Um, well, Skinner wants to meet with us in his office right away.”

Scully looked at him. “About what?”

He shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

Mulder and Scully then made their way out of the office and to the elevator, where they hit the button for the fourth floor. On the first floor, the elevators opened and Agents Sam Cole and Sarah Brewer stepped on and they smiled at Mulder.

“Mulder!” greeted Sam enthusiastically, holding out his hand. “How’s it going, buddy?”

Mulder sighed, pursing his lips. He then shook Sam’s hand. “I’m all right. And yourself?”

“Oh, I’m good, I’m good. Uh, and how are you, Agent Scully?”

Mulder noticed that Sam’s tone of voice changed once he’d addressed Scully, and he was gazing at her admiringly. Mulder sighed.

“I’m good, thank you,” Scully replied. “I’d ask how you’re doing, but Agent Mulder already did.”

“Did you have a nice Christmas?” Sam asked her.

Scully eyed him. “Um, yeah, it was nice. How about you?”

“Well, my parents spent Christmas with my sister this year, her husband’s in the army and he’s stationed overseas, so I spent it with some friends,” Sam replied. “It, uh, wasn’t nearly as exciting as Mulder’s Christmas, though.” He then turned a knowing look on Mulder. “So how’s Natalie treating you?”

Scully gave Mulder a puzzled look, while he stood frozen, eyes wide. But after a second, he collected himself. “I, uh, wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen her.”

Sam chuckled. “Love ‘em and leave ‘em, huh?”

Mulder stared at him, and noticed in his peripheral vision that Scully was arching an eyebrow in his direction. The elevator doors then opened on the third floor, and Agents Cole and Brewer made their way out.

“Oh, Agent Scully?” Sam said as he turned back quickly before the doors could close. “I hope you have a nice day.”

The elevator doors then closed as Sam stood there smiling and winking at her.

“What the hell was that about?” Scully asked, turning to look back at her partner.

Mulder sighed. “I’ll explain later.”

At this point, the elevator doors opened on the fourth floor, and they made their way down the hallway to Skinner’s office. His secretary Kimberly opened his office door and announced their presence before being given permission to let them in. Mulder and Scully then entered and sat down in front of Skinner’s desk. He glanced down at an open file on his desk, and then stared at them.

“Thanks for coming. I read your case report, and uh, this was interesting. I wouldn’t exactly say it was an X-file, though. But some of the Academy instructors over at Quantico thought the case was fascinating and they want you to do Friday morning’s lecture. They seem to think this case will be a big hit with the class, and that you might actually receive applause instead of disbelieving stares and snickering.”

“Okay,” Mulder nodded. He knew that Quantico was always looking for veteran agents to present cases every Friday to rookies attending the FBI Academy. He and Scully had gone down there quite a few times over the years to present certain cases. The new class had started up the first week in January, so Mulder wasn’t surprised at this request.

Skinner sighed. “But I don’t think I can allow you to go down there with this.”

Mulder and Scully gave him a look of surprise. “What’s the problem, sir?” Scully asked.

“You’ve got a man taking the blame for a robbery he didn’t commit, agents. That’s a serious obstruction of justice.”

Mulder and Scully exchanged glances. “Um, sir, we explained in the report that Alvarez was indicted for extortion and gambling, but we had the robbery charges dropped,” replied Mulder, whose tone then changed to kind tolerance. “But the case was really convoluted, so I can understand how you might have overlooked that. It was very confusing, sir.”

Scully have him the side-eye. Mulder caught her look and then thought he might’ve sounded condescending without really meaning to.

Skinner leaned back in his chair, giving him a hard stare. “Yes, Agent Mulder, you’re right. It was very complicated. Do you honestly think it’s a good idea to tell a room full of rookies who haven’t even graduated yet that all they need is an FBI badge number and a thumbprint to steal millions of dollars through electronic transfers?”

Mulder gaped. That hadn’t even crossed his mind. Scully turned to look at him. He guessed that she hadn’t thought of that either. Mulder then thought he saw Skinner’s mouth twitch amusingly, but then it was gone and his expression hardened once again.

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do. You will go down to the Academy on Friday morning to present this case. But you’re also going to write up a report summarizing the federal banking regulations that come in to play with this crime as well as a summarization of the previous fiscal year’s Financial Crimes Report. I’m sure anyone down at the Financial Crimes Section will be more than happy to get you that report. You will then present the Pinchbeck case along with these two summaries at Quantico.”

Mulder grimaced and gave him a disgusted look, noticing that Skinner had a look of triumph behind his eyes. Scully stared in disbelief.

“That is all,” Skinner said tersely.

Mulder and Scully stood up and turned towards the office door.

“Oh, Agent Mulder? Would you remain behind for a moment?”

They stopped and turned to look at him. Mulder and Scully then exchanged glances, and he nodded to let her know everything was okay. Scully then started to walk towards the office door, and Mulder noticed Skinner staring after her until she was out of sight. Mulder also thought that Skinner’s line of vision had briefly dropped low enough to stare at Scully’s ass, but he couldn’t be sure about that. He was suspicious, at any rate. Not that this surprised him any. Mulder glared, but then remembered that any physical altercation with Skinner would never end in his favor.

“How is she doing?” Skinner asked, turning to look at Mulder. “Since that whole ordeal with Pfaster?”

“She’s, uh, she’s fine.”

Skinner eyed him. “Why did you go out to California? Mulder, that case wasn’t even close to being an X-file. It was more like the plot of a Murder, She Wrote episode. What made you think that was worth your time? Or FBI resources, for that matter?”

Mulder sighed. “I figured Agent Scully needed something to get her mind off of what had happened, and the case was just bizarre enough to warrant some kind of attention. I also thought that our first case back shouldn’t be anything that had the chance of being, uh, life-threatening."

Skinner nodded.

“Is that it, sir?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

Mulder then started to walk towards the office door.

“Oh, Agent Mulder?” Skinner said, calling him back, before watching Mulder turn around. “You relieved yourselves of the case last Thursday morning, but your travel records state you didn’t fly back until Sunday. There appears to be some discrepancy there.”

Mulder swallowed, staring. “Oh yeah, uh, Scully wanted to spend some time in San Diego before she flew back home. Her older brother is in the navy, you know, and he’s stationed down there. I think his wife just had a baby. Scully wanted to see them.”

Skinner nodded.

Mulder then turned to leave, but not before noticing a hint of a smirk on Skinner’s face.

*****

On Friday afternoon, January 28th, Scully made her way back to the basement office from the FBI Academy at Quantico. She and Mulder had driven separately as she had made lunch plans with some friends from the Laboratory Division. Mulder and Scully had spent the morning lecturing a classroom full of agents in training on their most recent case, and afterwards Mulder opened the floor for any questions about the case, which turned into a lengthy Q&A about the X-Files in general. While the case presentation had gotten an overwhelmingly positive reaction, Mulder felt the classroom reaction during the Q&A was split evenly between blatant eye rolling and keen interest. At 11:30 am, Mulder departed for headquarters. After enjoying a long lunch at The Globe & Laurel restaurant, and then a subsequent 45 minute drive back to D.C., Scully walked through the basement office door at just past 2:30 pm to find Mulder standing behind the desk on the telephone.

“Not as far as you know? ... Not this time of year? ... All right. Thank you, Doctor. Goodbye.” 

Mulder watched her enter as he hung up the phone, and then moved the computer monitor towards her. Scully looked at the computer screen that showed a video of an angry, hissing rattlesnake on what appeared to be a website about animal facts. 

“Snakes,” she said. Gross. She hated snakes. 

“Lots and lots of snakes,” Mulder replied. “Very pissed off ones, from the look of it.” 

Mulder handed her a folder, and Scully opened it and let out a small gasp at the image of a corpse, discolored and bloated from snake venom. 

“That's the former Mr. Jared Chirp of McMinn County, Tennessee.”

Scully was disgusted. “Oh, my God.” She then started to read the police report.

“Hundred and sixteen separate bite marks. Judging from the wound measurements there were 50 different snakes involved, mostly copperheads and rattlers.” 

“But it says here that he was found dead in his car,” Scully replied. 

“Yeah, with a pistol in his hand,” Mulder said. “He fired six shots, into the floorboards, into the passenger seat, even into his own right kneecap, and the windows were shut and the doors were locked.” 

“But, uh, what happened to all the snakes?” Scully asked. 

Mulder turned to walk around to the front of the desk, and sat on the edge. “No one seems to know that. There was not a scale found. I just got off the phone with a herpetologist at the Smithsonian, and he's stumped, especially because these rattlesnakes tend to hibernate in winter.” 

Scully stepped to the side to sit down in front of him. “So you think that, uh… Mr. Chirp was murdered?”

“Well, it certainly would appear that way but the question is ‘how?’” Mulder replied. “There's no physical evidence at all, no tire tracks, no footprints. I can't see how anyone could have accomplished this. And then you got to ask yourself ‘why?’ Why would anybody use poisonous snakes as a murder weapon?” 

Scully’s mind quickly settled on why snakes might have some kind of significance. “Maybe it's symbolic. I mean, serpents and religion have gone hand in hand. They've represented the temptation of Eve, Original Sin. They've been feared and hated throughout history as they've been thought to embody Satan, to serve Evil itself.” 

Mulder had silently nodded his approval of Scully’s rationale while she spoke, giving her a slight smile. 

“Maybe these ones actually do.” 

“These particular serpents actually were serving Evil?” Scully asked skeptically, raising her eyebrows at him, before giving him a mildly sarcastic look. “Are you going to type that on our travel request?” 

“Hmm… no,” Mulder replied with another slight smile. “But at the very least this case does seem to center around religion, and you're not the only one to think that by the way.” 

Scully was curious, and gave him a questioning stare. 

At 5:45 pm, their nonstop flight from D.C. departed for Tennessee and two hours later they landed at Nashville International Airport at 6:45 pm local time. After collecting a rental car and a state road map, they took the 90 minute drive southeast to the McMinn County Sheriff Station in McMinnville. At just past 8:30 pm, Mulder walked into the station and asked to see the sheriff while Scully used the restroom. 

“Thanks for coming down, Agent Mulder,” said Sheriff Kelvin Hinks, an African American man in his mid-50’s with graying black hair, before turning to see Scully approach them. “But I honestly didn’t expect you to bring the Mrs.”

“She’s my FBI partner,” Mulder quickly corrected the sheriff, his eyes widening slightly. This was the second time it had happened in the last two weeks, the first being Pinchbeck when they’d first walked into Cradock Marine Bank in Los Angeles and Mulder had hurriedly set him straight. There was a time when being mistaken as Scully’s husband had been very amusing to Mulder and he hadn’t always felt the need to correct people, partly to mess with Scully and force her to be the one to constantly correct them, but now the idea of Scully and marriage made him feel nervous. 

“Agent Dana Scully,” Scully said as she held out her badge, sighing. Every time they travel down south, or out to the Midwest, they are always mistaken for a married couple. It never fails. 

The sheriff chuckled. “Oh, okay. Sorry ‘bout that. Uh, well, as I was saying, thanks again for coming down here. We don’t know what to make of this one.” 

Scully nodded. “So where is the town of Blessing, exactly?” 

Sheriff Hinks turned and pointed towards a large map of the county on the wall. “Blessing is about 22 miles north of here.” 

Scully walked over to the wall and studied the map of McMinn County while Mulder looked over the statements from the police interviews the sheriff’s department had done with persons close to Jared Chirp. After a short while, they departed the sheriff’s station and took the 30 minute drive north to Blessing, Tennessee. 

After driving around town fruitlessly looking for a motel, they stopped at a gas station where the attendant chuckled and said the closest motel was in McMinnville. Mulder and Scully groaned over the idea of driving back to where they'd just come from. But the attendant then informed them that there was one B&B in town and after giving them directions, a few minutes later Mulder and Scully found themselves standing outside the two story brick home that was Sassafras House Bed and Breakfast.

Upon ringing the doorbell, they were greeted by the owner, Mr. Caleb Anderson, who informed them that the three upstairs guestrooms were full with out-of-town guests because there was a funeral tomorrow. Mulder assumed the funeral was for Jared Chirp, and Mr. Anderson affirmed this assumption with a suspicious look on his face. Mulder then let told him that they were in town investigating Jared’s death. Mr. Anderson nodded. 

“Well, the Blessed Union Cottage is unoccupied,” Mr. Anderson then said. “Technically it’s for our romantic honeymoon package, but the two of you can stay there if you’d like. It’s $225 a night for tonight and Saturday night, $175 Sunday through Thursday. Full breakfast every morning is included with the price.” 

Mulder sighed, and looked at Scully. “That’s way above the accommodation budget.”

Scully was in no mood to drive all the way back to McMinnville just to stay in some Motel 6 or Best Western. She was exhausted, and had felt exhausted ever since she’d returned home from San Diego. 

“Mulder, you know the Bureau will pay above the standard rate if there are no other suitable accommodations to be found.” 

“All right, we’ll take it,” Mulder said to Mr. Anderson, getting out their FBI-issued credit card.

After they checked in, Mr. Anderson led Mulder and Scully out the back door off the kitchen to the back yard and a private walkway lit with small black lanterns on both sides, over a tiny bridge that crossed a small pond, and to the stained glass front door of the brick octagonal cottage. After giving them a key to the front door, Mr. Anderson departed back to the house. 

Upon unlocking the door and walking inside, they were immediately greeted with a queen-size four poster bed with a draped canopy of fuchsia fabric over a jade and ivory striped bedspread with bunches of fuchsia roses imprinted across the stripes, an ivory lace bed skirt with jade trim, a white and fuchsia floral patterned bench at the end of the bed, mahogany furniture to match the bed frame and front door, hardwood flooring, vaulted octagonal ceiling with a chandelier hanging from the beveled cupola, pale pink walls, and a wallpaper border running across the top just underneath the ceiling in a Victorian antique pattern of naked cherubs against a heavenly blue sky with pink roses hanging along the top edge. 

Mulder and Scully stood there, gaping, and felt absolutely horrified. 

“I don’t know about you, Scully, but creepy baby angels really put me in the mood,” Mulder quipped. 

Scully walked into the bathroom to find a Jacuzzi tub, but no shower, and two white cotton bathrobes hanging behind the door. She shook her head in disbelief over the lack of a shower. Mulder walked around the cottage room, noticing the small table for two, microwave, compact refrigerator with complimentary bottled water and soft drinks, a television with VCR player, and a CD player complete with a selection of romantic and relaxation music CDs. 

Mulder then joined Scully in the bathroom. “What? No shower?” 

Scully sighed. She had avoided using her own bathtub since the night Donnie Pfaster had attacked her, she hadn’t even slept in her bedroom and had taken up sleeping on the couch, getting very little, and she wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of not having a shower available to use instead. 

“Scully, are you okay?” Mulder asked, noticing her furrowed brows and worried expression. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, not meeting his gaze, before turning and walking back out to the bedroom. 

Mulder followed her. “I know you don’t want to us to be in the same room when working a case, but I promise I will keep my hands to myself. I won’t touch you, or many any foolhardy attempts to distract us from what we’re here to do.” 

Scully gave him a half smile. “I know.”

*****

After getting ready for bed and changing into their pajamas, they climbed into the fuchsia-canopied four poster bed. To Mulder’s happy surprise, Scully slid over to press herself against his side as he lied on his back, lifting her leg up to wrap around his waist, and laid her head in the crook of his shoulder, curling her hand on his chest. He then turned his face towards the top of her head, closing his eyes and smelling her hair. Scully soon fell asleep.

And as Friday, January 28th, came to a close and he drifted towards the dreamland of unconsciousness, Mulder felt happy. His life was practically half over, if he hopefully was able to live that long, but he felt like it was just starting. Mulder felt as though he was finally shedding the darkness, like a snake shedding its skin, shedding the thick layer of biting sarcasm, brooding cynicism, and emotional detachment that had formed over the years to protect him from any more pain and loss.

Others had come into Mulder’s life before Scully, others he’d felt strongly about, and then eventually walked out of it, each leaving some small mark on him, for good or bad. But a soulmate is different. A soulmate is not just someone who understands you better than anyone else, loves you like no one else ever has, and is there for you unconditionally no matter what. Only once in your lifetime can you find someone who will completely turn your world upside down. You tell this person things that you had never told anyone, and not only do they truly listen to every word you say, but they actually want to hear more. You share hopes, dreams, goals; failings and success; losses and gains; happiness and pain. The purpose of a soulmate is to shake things up, force you out of your comfort zone; to break down an overinflated ego and that wall around your heart. A true soulmate will hold a mirror up to you and show you who you really are, including your faults, addictions, and the obstacles you put in your own way. A true soulmate will find all those places deep inside of you that were hidden away, maybe even from yourself, and will find beauty in places you never thought were beautiful. A true soulmate completely transforms your life. 

After working that first case back in Bellefleur, Oregon nearly seven years ago, Mulder thought that there was something about Scully that he needed. There was something about her that would send him in the right direction, whether that was her strict rationalism or rigorous scientific mind, which would somehow provide the backbone to his work. He thought there was something about her that he needed to finally get the X-Files off the ground, to finally find the answers he’d been desperately, unsuccessfully, searching for. But as it turned out, it wasn’t ‘something about her’ that he needed at all. It was her.


	55. “Be smart. Down here.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully continue their investigation in Tennessee. Marriage makes Mulder nervous. Scully ponders her actions and their consequences. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of the episode "Signs and Wonders" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Jeffrey Bell, and belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulsavers – “Tonight”
> 
> When you’re looking for salvation  
> Better take some time to get your story straight  
> Are you sure you’re ready for forgiveness  
> You might have left it kind of late
> 
> Tonight  
> No it’s never too late  
> Tonight  
> No it’s never too late
> 
> When you’re looking for salvation  
> In another person’s life  
> You better get yourself a witness  
> You might consider a wife  
> Tonight, tonight
> 
> So listen to what I’m saying  
> Don’t be listening to their fear  
> You gotta jump into the water sometimes  
> You gotta risk it all, my dear, my dear
> 
> Looks like you might be heading for some trouble  
> You keep listening to their lies  
> I know you have that nagging sickness sometimes  
> We can change it all tonight  
> Tonight, tonight

At 7:35 am on Saturday, January 29th, Scully was woken up by her cell phone that she’d stuck on the small circular bedside table next to her the night before. As she opened her eyes, she saw the mahogany bookcase against the pale pink wall that held the CD player with CDs and some white angel figurines. She remembered where she was, and groaned as she reached for her phone. Mulder was sleeping on his side behind her, with his arm at her waist, and she looked down to see the palm of his left hand cupping her breast.

“Scully,” she answered groggily, still blinking herself awake.

“Dana, it’s Charlie. Jennifer’s just gone into labor and we’re in the car driving to the hospital now.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Scully replied, now fully awake. She’d been expecting this any day now, especially since Jennifer was a week late.

Charlie laughed. “Yeah, tell me about it. Mom’s on her way up here. She said you were in Tennessee.”

Scully sighed. “Yes. I’m in Tennessee.”

“Memphis? Or… Nashville?” Charlie asked.

She sighed again. “Neither. It’s the middle of nowhere.”

Charlie made an ‘ugh’ sound. “Okay, well, uh, I’ll keep you updated about Jennifer and the baby.”

“Good.”

“Dana?”

“Yeah?”

He sighed. “I’m gonna have a daughter.”

Scully smiled. “I know.”

“I don’t know what to do with a daughter. I’m scared shitless. What if I fuck her up and she winds up a stripper with daddy issues?”

At this Scully heard Jennifer yell “Charles!” in the background and the sound of Ben and Jack giggling.

“Everything will be okay, Charlie.”

“I hope so,” he replied.

Scully then felt Mulder moving and looked down to see his hand leave her breast and start making its way down her abdomen. She knew where it was heading, and she elbowed his arm.

“Oh, Dana?”

“Yes, Charlie?”

He hesitated. “Please be careful. I keep picturing some kind of _Deliverance_ scenario.”

Then a “Gross, Charlie…” could be heard from Jennifer in the background. Scully chuckled, but then stopped abruptly to try and remove Mulder’s hand, which had slipped underneath the hem of her pajama bottoms and was trailing down her lower belly. “I will. It’ll be fine.”

“Okay, talk to you soon,” Charlie said before hanging up.

“Mulder,” Scully said with a warning.

He sighed contentedly into the back of her head, and groggily mumbled “Mmm, Scully, let’s have sex.”

“Mulder, open your eyes and take a look at the horror surrounding you.”

He then blinked himself fully awake as he turned his head to look around and realized where they were, removing his hand from Scully’s body. “Oh, God.”

“Do you want to take a bath first, or shall I?” Scully asked.

Mulder sighed. “You can take one now. I’m wanna try to sleep some more. Jared Chirp’s funeral is at 10:00 am, so we should probably head over to Blessing Community Church to talk with the reverend when the funeral is over.”

Scully got out of bed, grabbed her toiletry bag, and headed into the bathroom. After emptying her bladder, she started filling the Jacuzzi tub with water. As she stared at it, memories from the night Donnie Pfaster attacked her swam in front of her eyes. With a sense of panic rising in her stomach she quickly turned for the bathroom door, and opened it to see Mulder lying on the bed. His brown hair was tousled and his eyes were closed, his dark lashes resting against his skin. His navy blue t-shirt covered his firm chest, which was slowly moving up and down with steady breathing. The panic began to slightly dissipate. After leaving the bathroom door wide open, she stepped back and turned off the water faucet. She then stepped into the tub, and bathed quickly.

Once she got out and put on the smaller white bathrobe, she stepped to the sink and brushed her teeth as Mulder walked into the bathroom. As he emptied his bladder while she stood at the sink, she sighed loudly and rolled her eyes at her reflection in the mirror. Mulder glanced over at her, remembering this was one of her pet peeves. Whoops. Once Scully left the bathroom, Mulder bathed in the tub, and then at promptly 9:00 am there was a knock on the stained glass door.

The owner, Mr. Caleb Anderson, had arrived with their breakfast and stepped inside to lay everything on their table. Once everything was placed on the table, he departed, and Mulder and Scully sat down to a full breakfast. They both helped themselves to some coffee and orange juice, and while Scully chose the vanilla yogurt and granola along with half a grapefruit for her breakfast, Mulder dug into the bacon, sausage, biscuits, hash browns, and scrambled eggs.

After breakfast was consumed, Scully watched with surprise as Mulder dressed in a pair of black Dockers and an olive green button down shirt. He didn’t put on a suit, or a tie. He then explained that in some cultures, like the rural South, strangers dressed in sharp business attire weren’t always greeted with warmth and hospitality, like a kidnapping case he’d worked in mountainous West Virginia during his stint in Violent Crimes. He and his partner Jerry were canvassing Marshall County looking for a missing 12 year old Amish girl and her eight year old sister who’d been taken from the family’s roadside vegetable stand. Mulder and Jerry had one too many shotguns pulled on them just for being men in suits walking up these people’s driveways. And the fact that they’d immediately identified themselves as FBI agents didn’t seem to help matters.

*****

At 10:45 am, they departed Sassafras House Bed and Breakfast and made their way to Blessing Community Church. After speaking with Reverend Samuel Mackey, they learned that Jared Chirp had been raised in a church about 10 miles outside town called the Church of God with Signs & Wonders, whose members practice snake handling as part of their worship, and that Jared had been persecuted for leaving the church.

After driving out to the Signs & Wonders church later, they’d found it to be a small run down building with hand-painted signs. Mulder quipped about knowing a couple Catholic schoolgirls who were expert snake handlers as they’d walked inside to find the building dark and empty. Empty except for a bunch of rattlesnakes that had gotten free of their boxes. As Mulder and Scully had their guns drawn, panic and fear seizing hold, the Reverend Enoch O’Connor showed up and told them to leave, but not after lecturing them on the Devil and tests of faith. Scully turned around and determinedly walked out the door, Mulder following behind her.

“Tennessee. Snakes. Thank you, Mulder. Thank you so much.” Scully tried to make her tone as bitter as possible for his benefit.

He smiled at her amusingly as they walked down the front steps of the church towards their rental car.

“I say we arrest him and catch the first flight out of here,” she stated. She wanted to get back to civilization as quickly as possible.

“He does seem like a likely suspect only the local sheriff's office ruled him out,” he replied. “Apparently, he was in Kentucky the night Jared Chirp died.”

“Well, Mulder, there are other people in his congregation.”

“Jared Chirp died with a packed suitcase by his side,” he said as he walked around the car to the driver’s side and opened the car door. “There's got to be somebody that knows where he was headed.”

After getting into the car, they drove back to Blessing. They talked to several townspeople, most all of whom had mistaken them for a married couple, sometimes even after stating they were FBI agents. One woman even addressed Scully as “Mrs. Mulder.” While Scully felt somewhat annoyed at having to correct people all day long, Mulder was growing increasingly nervous and wondered if she would start getting ideas in her head about marriage, specifically about them getting married. Is that something Scully really wanted from him? If not right now, would she want it eventually? Mulder pushed that disconcerting thought away.

At 8:00 pm that evening, Mulder and Scully found themselves back at Blessing Community Church. One of the church’s members, an older woman named Iris Finster, had been attacked and killed by snakes in the office during the Saturday evening Bible study group. They learned that Jared Chirp had called the woman on the night he’d died, ranting about paying for his sins. The McMinn County Sheriff’s Department an APB for Reverend Enoch O’Connor. An hour later, the deputies still hadn’t been able to locate O’Connor, and at just past 10:00 pm, Mulder and Scully found themselves driving out of town back to the Church of God with Signs and Wonders.

Scully had no desire to walk into that church again, had no desire to be once again surrounded by snakes. So she told Mulder that she’d look around out back. Once she’d pulled out her gun, she entered the trailer behind the church and found glass cages filled with white mice and boxes of snakes. So many boxes. Scully’s skin crawled.

Not long after that Scully’s face was pressed down against one of those boxes, and with one eye she could see past the criss-crossed wires into the shadowy inside which held a rattlesnake, coiling and hissing at her. She could feel O’Connor’s firm hold on her, hear him ranting about judgment, and then he grabbed her hand and forced it inside the box. Several thoughts raced through her mind at once. Despite everything she’d learned over the years about self-defense, she couldn’t break O’Connor’s hold. She felt terrified of being bitten by a poisonous snake. In her mind, she was also yelling for Mulder but she couldn’t get his name from her brain to her mouth. She was frozen, hunched over this box, awaiting judgment.

The rational part of her brain knew that a snake had no capacity to make judgments and the things O’Connor was growling at her were utter nonsense. But Scully could see the eyes of the snake, and the rational part of her brain was overshadowed by the powerful guilt she could feel rising up along with a different kind of fear. She felt like the snake’s eyes were on her, that they knew everything about her. The memory of Donnie Pfaster’s dead body lying on her kitchen floor swam in front of her eyes. She killed a man. A man who was unarmed, a man who’d been subdued by her partner. She took another human being’s life when she didn’t have the right to. How was the snake going to judge her? Would the snake see a righteous person? Or would she be condemned? Could she be forgiven? Or was it too late? Maybe this really was a test.

But Scully didn’t find out the answer because Mulder then entered the trailer and pulled his gun on O’Connor. However, O’Connor was determined to see this test through and wouldn’t let her go despite Mulder’s order. But once Mulder cocked his gun and gave O’Connor his no-nonsense glare, he freed Scully from his hold on her.

Mulder and Scully drove a handcuffed O’Connor to the McMinn County Sheriff’s Station in McMinnville, and at 11:22 pm Mulder was sitting across a table from O’Connor in one of the interrogation rooms.

“Your FBI partner could've learned something about herself if you hadn't stopped me. Some powerful good news, maybe.”

“I'd say it's good news for you that she's not here right now, considering what you tried to do to her,” Mulder replied, remembering the scene he’d come across in that trailer, anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach. The man’s wife had died from snake bites, his daughter’s boyfriend, and an innocent woman from his daughter’s new church.

“Educated man,” O’Connor said, staring fixedly at Mulder. “Too smart to know any better.”

“Smart enough to know you're a murderer.”

O’Connor didn’t remove his gaze from Mulder’s face. “Satan is near, and you don't even have eyes. You're just proud and fancy free.”

Mulder wasn’t going to sit here and allow this man to claim these people died because God used snakes to pronounce judgment. Some people, like O’Connor, were quick to deal out death and judgment and claim it was God’s work. Or the Devil’s.

“You think because you're educated you're better than most? You ain't,” said O’Connor, before pointing to his chest. “Unless you're smart down here the Devil's going to make a fool of you and you ain't even going to know it.”

Mulder stared at O’Connor. Something in the back of his mind was telling him not to jump to conclusions about O’Connor’s supposed guilt, but he knew that there was no other likely scenario. He just to figure out how O’Connor got those snakes inside Jared Chirp’s locked car and the Blessing Community Church’s office.

While this interrogation had been going on Scully had been outside the room speaking with Gracie O’Connor, trying to persuade her to speak with her father and get him to confess, but was unsuccessful. Gracie didn’t want to see him. As Gracie walked away from her, Scully realized that O’Connor’s daughter still didn’t believe him capable of murder.

“It don't matter what I believe,” Gracie replied after she stopped and looked back at Scully. “He'll be judged as he deserves. Can't nobody avoid it.”

As Scully watched her walk away, her mind returned to her own judgment. What of her soul? Was it damned? What does God see when he looks into her heart? Can the unlawful extermination of another human life be forgiven? The guilt she’d been suppressing was taking a firm hold of her, as if O’Connor’s hand was still pressing her head down on that box.

*****

Several hours later, Mulder and Scully found themselves in the ICU of River Park Hospital in McMinnville. It was the middle of the night and light of Sunday morning would be soon approaching, and they’d had no sleep since Friday night at the cottage. Reverend O’Connor had been attacked by poisonous snakes, but no one had any idea how snakes could have gotten into the sheriff’s station. Mulder wondered whether O’Connor did it to himself as a test of righteousness. She hypothesized that because Gracie was refusing medical treatment for her father on religious grounds, it might be possible that she is the one responsible. But neither Mulder or Scully could come up with any reason for why she would murder Jared Chirp or Iris Finster.

Mulder and Scully then drove to Jared Chirp’s apartment to look around, desperate for a reason for why he’d been initially attacked in the first place. They came across a crumpled up piece of paper, which was lab results revealing his sterility that he’d received on the day of his death. It was clear that Jared couldn’t possibly be the father of his pregnant girlfriend’s baby, but exactly who was the father of Gracie O’Connor’s child they couldn’t guess.

They decided to head back to hospital and question her, but when they’d arrived Reverend Mackey frantically told them that both O’Connor and Gracie were gone from the hospital. Mackey also insinuated that O’Connor himself was the father of Gracie’s baby, and that’s why she had badly wanted to get away from her father and his church. As Mulder looked at the Reverend, he thought there was something strange about this piece of information.

After Mulder and Scully informed the sheriff’s department that Enoch O’Connor and his daughter were missing, deputies were called in to immediately start searching. As Mulder took a good look at Scully sitting in the passenger seat of their rental car, and then at the dashboard clock which told him the time was 2:07 am, he saw she looked exhausted. Earlier in the afternoon, her sister-in-law Jennifer had given birth to a baby girl, so between their running around all over McMinn County, Scully had also been fielding phone calls all day from her mother and Charlie about Jennifer’s delivery.

“Scully, maybe we should get a few hours of sleep. What do you say?”

She sighed. “But Gracie is missing. Who knows what O’Connor will do to her. Unless it really was her who took him out of here. He honestly didn’t look like he was going to live much longer, Mulder.”

“Either way, we should let the sheriff’s deputies take over for a few hours, Scully. We’re no help if we’re dead on our feet.”

She agreed, she really was tired and felt like she could barely keep her eyes open sitting in the warm car, and they departed McMinnville for Blessing. At 2:35 am they pulled into the long gravel driveway of the Sassafras House Bed and Breakfast. After pulling on her new blue plaid flannel pajamas, the ones she’d bought when she’d thrown her gray flannels away, the ones she’d worn when Pfaster had attacked her, she climbed into bed next to Mulder. But as exhausted and as sleepy as she was, as soon as her head hit the pillow her mind raced and she couldn’t sleep.

“Mulder?” she said in a quiet voice just above a whisper.

“Yeah, Scully?” He turned his head to look at her back. His mind was trying to figure out why Reverend Mackey hadn’t just come right out and told them about O’Connor and Gracie in the first place. It seemed as though Mackey kept coming up with different reasons for why Gracie left her father and the Signs and Wonders church. First Mackey said she simply wanted a more tolerant view of God. Then her father kicked her out because she was pregnant, along with barring her and Jared from the church. And now apparently O’Connor is the one who got her pregnant and Gracie ran away from the church. Good grief.

“Will you talk to me until I fall asleep?”

Mulder smiled, remembering the night they spent in that flea trap motel in Arizona last summer. “What do you want me to talk about?”

Scully thought briefly for a second, and then remembered something Mulder had mentioned earlier on Saturday. “Tell me about those Catholic schoolgirls who were expert snake handlers.”

Mulder chuckled, and turned on his side to slide closer to her. “Well, when I was a teenager…”

“You said you never had a girlfriend in high school,” Scully said interrupting him.

“These girls were never my girlfriends. Are you gonna let me tell the story?”

Scully snorted. “Okay, fine.”

Mulder slid his arm around Scully’s waist, put his mouth to her ear, and lowered his voice to a whisper.

“In the summer of 1978, I was 16 years old. I got a summer job working at Reece’s Dairy Bar & Miniature Golf. I basically stood at the front window and took ice cream orders eight hours a day, four days a week. That summer, a large well-to-do Irish Catholic family arrived on the Vineyard and rented a huge house in town for six weeks. Every day their oldest daughter, Sheila, who had just graduated from her all-girls Catholic school up in Boston, would come up to my window and order a Reece’s peanut butter sundae.”

“What did she look like? Tall? And brunette?” Scully asked, smirking.

Mulder nodded, his lips softly brushing against her ear. “Yes. She had long dark brown hair that went straight down her back to her waist, and she was tall, maybe 5’8” or so, and she had hazel eyes. Every day Sheila would ask me what time I got off work, and I’d tell her 9:30 pm. But at 9:30, she was nowhere to be found. This went on for a few weeks. Then one night, I walked out the back door of the restaurant to my car.”

“What kind of car did you drive?” she asked.

“You like cars, don’t you, Scully?” Mulder said suggestively, in a low voice in her ear.

She suddenly found herself wanting to turn around and break all her rules about fraternizing on assignment, but she fought the momentary urge. There was something about the sound of Mulder’s monotone when it turned sexual, she didn’t know what it was, but no other man’s voice had ever sent blood rushing to her groin the way his did. Sometimes this was most welcomed, and other times this was extremely inconvenient, like when they were working.

“I drove a blue 1977 Camaro,” Mulder continued, grinning at the sudden flush of pink that had risen in Scully’s cheek. “It was a birthday present from my dad. Anyways, Sheila was there and she told me to take her somewhere. I had no idea where, but then I knew that the guys in school usually took their girlfriends to the golf course at night. So, we went to the golf course. And that was the first time I ever had an orgasm that was brought about by someone else. I mean, we never had sex. She was saving herself for her future husband, or Jesus, or whatever, and wouldn’t let me kiss her or lay a finger on her. But that summer I discovered the wonder of the blow job. Go figure.”

“Did you like her?” Scully asked, yawning, her eyelids getting heavy with sleepiness.

Mulder shrugged. “We didn’t talk much, which was fine with me. I was just happy that a pretty girl actually wanted to touch me, and it was a bonus that she wasn’t from the Vineyard and didn’t know just how weird my family was. I never saw her again after that summer. The following summer, Sheila’s family returned to rent that house, but she didn’t come with them. She decided to stay at Wells College instead of going home for her summer break. I think she had met a guy or something. Anyways, when I went by the house to ask for Sheila, her younger sister Margaret, who was 16, told me she wasn’t there. Margaret was a couple inches shorter than Sheila, and she had long, wavy chestnut brown hair and green eyes. Now, Margaret I liked. She had a wicked sense of humor, and we spent hours just hanging out, talking, laughing. She also let me kiss her, and touch her. I don’t know if it just ran in the family, ‘cause she’d also learned the art of the blow job. But unfortunately, she was also saving herself for Jesus because she wouldn’t let me fuck her either.”

Scully chuckled, closing her eyes, and felt herself finally drifting towards sleep, but then that snake floated to the front of her mind, that snake and its eyes.

He sighed contentedly and moved to lie on his back, his eyes closing, hoping he’d be able to get enough sleep.

“Mulder?” Scully whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think the snake would’ve bitten me if you hadn’t gotten there?”

“I sure hope not,” Mulder replied.

She hesitated. “Do you think the snake would’ve judged me?”

He turned to stare at the back of her head. “Scully, how can a snake judge anything? Its brain is the size of a grape. Besides, it’s… it’s a snake.”

She hesitated again, afraid to voice her fear out loud, but did so anyway. “Do you think God will judge me for killing Donnie Pfaster?”

Mulder sighed, and looked at her sympathetically. “Scully, you did what you had to do.”

“Did I?” She wasn’t so sure.

“He was a monster, Scully.”

“I had no right to shoot him. He wasn’t armed, you had it under control. What if I did it in cold blood?”

Mulder’s eyes widened. He then turned back to his side and scooched over next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist, his mouth once again at her ear. “Scully, you’ve never done a single thing in cold blood. That’s not who you are. Your courage, your self-respect, your integrity, your sincerity, those are the things I believe in. And even if the entire world condemned you and conspired against you, it is those things I would continue to believe in.”

She sighed. “But what right do I have to take someone’s life? What if there’s a stain on my soul that won’t ever go away? What if redemption is impossible?”

“Well, Scully, if God sends you to Hell for shooting Donnie Pfaster, I’m sure I will be there to pick you up at the airport. So don’t worry.”

She snorted. “The airport?”

“Airports are hell on earth, Scully, so there has to be an airport in actual Hell,” Mulder deadpanned.

She sighed. “You’re not going to Hell, Mulder.”

“I am if you are.”

She made no reply, but lay there thinking of the resolutely confident tone Mulder had used to say those words. Scully didn’t know when or how, but she eventually fell asleep.

*****

At just past 10:00 am on Sunday morning, January 30th, Mulder and Scully were racing towards the Church of God with Signs and Wonders. They’d gotten a phone call that Gracie O’Connor had been found at the church showing signs of distress. When they’d arrived, the paramedics and sheriff’s deputies were already there. Gracie was in shock and unconscious, and her baby was gone. The deputies were talking to the church members who’d apparently found her when they’d arrived for morning worship, but they weren’t giving any information regarding how Gracie might’ve gotten there or what might’ve happened to her baby or where Enoch O’Connor was.

Mulder and Scully looked at the puddle of blood on the floor, noticing several squiggly trails of blood heading away from it. She knew was it looked like, and didn’t even want to know what that meant, because it was too absurd, too horrifying. But he bravely voiced aloud the question and firmly asked some church members if Gracie had given birth to snakes. He was only met with cold stares from the members and a hard stare from one of the deputies. Mulder then went off to find O’Connor while Scully rode with Gracie in the ambulance to the hospital.

“Gracie, it's Agent Scully. We're taking you to the doctor right now, okay?”

“No. I… got to…”

“Can you tell me what happened, Gracie?”

She was near tears, and placing a hand over her face in confusion. “Where's my Daddy?”

“You're safe, Gracie,” Scully said. “My partner's gone after him. Gracie, you're going to be okay. He can't hurt you anymore.”

“You don't understand. He saved me.”

Scully gave her a puzzled look. “What happened to your baby?”

Gracie cried. “It was the Devil’s work.”

Scully hesitated. “Do you mean… your father getting you pregnant?”

“What?” she cried. “My daddy never hurt me. It was Reverend Mackey.”

Scully stood up and looked towards the EMTs at the front. “Stop right now! I have to get off!”

The ambulance came to a stop, along with the sheriff’s deputy following behind, after she exited the ambulance she got into the sheriff’s car and instructed him to head to Blessing Community Church. She guessed that O’Connor would go after Reverend Mackey to exact revenge on what he had done to Gracie, and wondered if Mulder had found him yet.

As Scully entered the church she found O’Connor lying on the floor bleeding, holding a towel over his wound, and knelt down beside him. Her stomach knotted with anxiety.

“Where’s Mulder?”

As she said his name she heard him cry for help from the church office, and when she started to rise up off the floor O’Connor grabbed her arm. “You can’t help him. This is his alone.”

_Like hell it is._

Once Scully kicked the door down amid Mulder’s anguished screams, she ran inside the office to find Mulder lying on his side on the floor with his gun close to him. She then looked up to see a rattlesnake slithering out through the doorway. She turned Mulder over to lie on his back, and began unbuttoning his shirt to check for wounds, before looking up to see O’Connor leaning against the office door frame.

An hour later Mulder was lying in a hospital bed in McMinnville, Scully by his side, while he received anti-venom treatment. Eventually the pain medication caused him to doze off and Scully watched him sleep. As she sat there, she thought of Reverend Mackey and Reverend O’Connor. What did it mean that the fanatic fire and brimstone preacher was the good guy in this scenario? Is the fear of eternal damnation in hellfire the only way to find the truth about oneself or the world around us? Why did Mulder suddenly have good things to say about O’Connor?

And Scully remembered something Mulder had said to her the day before inside Jared Chirp’s apartment. _“Sometimes a little intolerance can be a welcome thing. Clear-cut right and wrong, black and white, no shades of gray. You know, in a society where hard and fast rules are harder and harder to come by, I think some people would appreciate that.”_

Scully thought that a black and white world was a world Mulder secretly longed for. For how many years had he been searching for something or someone who had all the answers? For all Mulder’s sarcasm and his seeming disdain for authority, Scully thought that if given the chance it would be hard for him to turn down life in a world where there were no shades of gray, where everything was laid out before him in jet black and pure white. Mulder, with his inherent goodness and keen sense of justice, had always found it difficult to make sense of the cruel, unjust world around him. His unrelenting search for extraterrestrial life and his sister was his way of searching for meaning and answers that he’d never find in a world so bombarded with evil.

Scully couldn’t blame him for that. Wasn’t she the one who was wondering if a snake would judge her? She then supposed that judgment was a necessary thing. Goodness should be rewarded, badness punished. But the idea that an animal could pass judgment on a human being is preposterous. Whether or not she could find some redemption was not for her to say. God would judge her eventually, whenever the time comes and however he chose to do so.

Killing Pfaster might have been a necessary action, but maybe it wasn’t. Did she shoot Pfaster in cold blood? Was it revenge? Vigilantism? Taking matters into her own hands instead of allowing the rightful authorities to handle it? It might have been something God had wanted her to do, but maybe not. Scully thought that she would never be able to find the answer to that. Mulder doesn’t have the answer, and neither does her mother or her brothers or even Father McCue.

But then something else Mulder had said came back to her: _“I am if you are.”_

One day she would be judged, but then Scully realized that she would not be judged alone. She couldn’t possibly be. Her actions, decisions, thoughts, feelings, her entire person, were so wrapped up in another human being that they would have to be judged together. She knew for a fact that O’Connor was wrong about at least one thing. Mulder was not alone in this. Neither was she. If they were to be tested, and judged, it would be together. If Mulder was to be judged as whether or not he was a righteous man, Scully would certainly be involved. So much of who they are as people is because of the other. They are each one half of the whole. Scully believed that they could never be judged separately. So she wasn’t going to worry about whatever judgments this world tries to hand out against her for shooting Donnie Pfaster. She wasn’t going to allow her own heart to condemn her. She was going to move forward.

*****

Two days later, February 1st, Scully walked into Mulder’s hospital room. He was looking a lot better and his snake bites were healing nicely. Scully sat down in the edge of his bed.

“Mackey?” he asked.

“Still no trace,” Scully replied. “Even though every law enforcement agency in Tennessee's out looking for him.”

He gave her a thoughtful look. “They won't find him. People think the devil has horns and a tail. They're not used to looking for some kindly man who tells you what you want to hear.”

“He's just a man, Mulder. Just like O'Connor.”

He shook his head slightly. “Not like O'Connor. If this was some kind of test looks like I failed.”

She couldn’t believe that. “I'd say if it was, you passed with flying colors. You're alive, aren't you?”

Mulder smiled at her, remembering O’Connor’s words. “Proud and fancy free.”

Scully gave him a warm smile, and then placed her hand in his, threading their fingers. She then spent the rest of the afternoon at the hospital with Mulder, before returning to the Sassafras House Bed and Breakfast and its Blessed Union Cottage to pack up their things. They would be leaving first thing in the morning to head back to D.C.

The following morning, while Mulder waited to be discharged from the hospital, O’Connor stopped by his room to say goodbye. His left arm was in a sling while his shoulder recovered from where Mulder had shot him. O’Connor mentioned that every time he’d come by to visit the last couple days, Scully had been in the room with him, and he could tell that they didn’t want to be interrupted. Mulder and O’Connor then talked for a few minutes about Mackey and what had happened with Gracie. Mulder found O’Connor more and more likable, despite his religious fervor.

After a little while, O’Connor started to stand up from the chair. “I suppose I should get going. I’m sure your wife will be here any minute now.”

Mulder stared. “Reverend O’Connor, you know that Scully is my FBI partner. She’s not my wife. We’re not married. You know that.”

O’Connor then gave Mulder a penetrating gaze, before moving his hand to point at his upper left chest, over his heart. “What did I tell you, boy, about being smart down here?”

With that, O’Connor walked out of the hospital room, Mulder staring after him.

Mulder and Scully arrived at Washington Dulles International airport on Wednesday, February 2nd, at 12:30 pm. Fifty minutes later, she was walking into her apartment building, and for the first time in over three weeks, she approached her apartment without a sense of dread, without her stomach knotted in fear, and as she took her keys out of her coat pocket and brought them up to unlock her door, her hand was steady.


	56. “Perchance I perished in an arrogant self-reliance an age ago; and in that act, a prayer for one more chance went up so earnest, so…”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder thinks about his snake attack, his heavily medicated hospital stay, good and evil, and marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulsavers – “Presence of God”
> 
> I can feel the presence of God  
> Occupying my intentions  
> In my soul, within my thoughts  
> And in ways too dreary to mention
> 
> These thoughts torment me  
> They mold and shape me  
> There’s a man that I should be  
> Or someone I could be  
> Nothing can break me  
> Nothing that I see  
> You can’t shake me  
> You can’t take me  
> So set me free
> 
> I can feel the presence of God  
> In need of my attention  
> In this room and in your words  
> In too many ways to mention
> 
> These thoughts torment me  
> They mold and shape me  
> There’s a man that I should be  
> Or someone I could be  
> Nothing can break me  
> Nothing that I see  
> You can’t shake me  
> You can’t take me  
> So set me free
> 
> I can feel the presence of love  
> Holding my attention
> 
> She torments me  
> Creates and shapes me  
> There’s a man that I should be  
> Or someone I could be  
> Nothing can break me  
> Nothing that I see  
> You can’t shake me  
> You can’t take me  
> So set me free

After Mulder had returned home from Tennessee on Wednesday afternoon, February 2nd, he unpacked his bag and occupied his regular spot on the couch. He wouldn’t be returning to work for a few days. As he turned on his television and laid down, he had no idea what was on the screen. The television only served as the necessary white background noise his mind needed in order to focus on something else entirely, something he hadn’t had time to process while he was healing in the hospital. The painkillers had kept his brain fuzzy. But now Mulder could sit and really think about what had happened to him down there in Blessing, Tennessee…

Mulder was in pain, agonizing pain. He was burning, a scalding fire searing through his veins up his arm, across his jaw. Yet, he felt conscious. How was it possible to be in this much pain and still be conscious? Oh, no. He was burning in Hell. Mulder had never bought into the whole fire and brimstone ideology, where the Devil was some red horned creature with a pitchfork, fanning the flames of torment. Who knew the fires of Hell burned you from the inside?

This was it. He’d died and now he was paying for his sins. He knew there were seven deadly sins but right now he was having trouble remembering them all, despite seeing that movie with Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman, and he was trying to bring them forward in his mind, desperately grasping for something to latch his mind onto. Was he guilty of all of them? He couldn’t be. Lust, yeah, he could buy that. Definitely lust. He’d also been way more lustful over the past four months than he’d been in the last 15 years. But was lusting after Scully such a terrible thing, deserving of such excruciating punishment?

Gluttony? Perhaps on occasion, like if he’d spent all weekend in the drunk tank or several days in a Russian prison camp, sure he could be known to fill himself up beyond capacity. Wrath? Not particularly. He wasn’t a naturally angry person, well, not so much anymore. He certainly wasn’t violent by nature. He'd killed people, though. But he firmly believed those were necessary actions to protect the lives of others. Greed? Maybe not for money. He was greedy for Scully, but maybe that falls in the lust category. Mulder was trying to focus his mind on the other deadly sins, shock starting to take hold following the incredible pain that was raging through his body, but he couldn't remember them.

Mulder felt something cold soothe his burning skin and opened his eyes to see Scully. If he’s burning in Hell, why is Scully there? She shouldn’t be here. She should be in Heaven with the other angels, if there even is a heaven. Maybe that’s why he’s burning. Doubt. When he’d told her that he’d go to Hell if she was there, he’d simply refused to believe they could ever be separated. In this life or the next. He didn’t honestly believe Hell was a place Scully would actually end up. Or is this just another part of the agony? Seeing a vision of Scully right in front of him but forced to endure such anguish that he is unable to touch her, even speak to her?

Mulder could feel her pulling the white shirt from his burning body. Scully was talking to him, but he didn’t know what she was saying. He thought he caught the word ‘ambulance.’ He then heard her command him to stop moving around so much, something about movement helping the spread of the venom and the destruction of his blood vessels. Venom? Oh, right. The Devil’s serpents had come for him and taken him to Hell. Mackey. That son of a bitch. O’Connor had been right all along.

Pride.

Bingo! Hit the nail on the head. Just like O’Connor had told him, he was fucking proud and fancy free. It was possible that pride was actually the worst of the deadly sins. And now he was facing eternal punishment. After all, his arrogance was renowned. So now God was smiting him. But why was Scully still here? He can hear her voice, his favorite voice in the world. He wished he could understand what she was saying now, but he couldn't focus on it. He wished he could open his eyes to look at her, but the pain kept them slammed shut. But Scully shouldn’t be here with him. If there is anyone worthy of salvation and forgiveness, it’s her.

Mulder knew that he was proud. He relied on his intelligence, his mind, instead of following his heart like O’Connor had told him to do. Mulder must be beyond salvation, beyond forgiveness, beyond hope. He didn’t see the signs. He didn’t understand the wonders. Why hadn’t he followed his heart? His gut instincts? When he had been walking around O’Connor’s church out there in the Tennessee backwoods, he didn’t feel any kind of evil presence. His guts didn’t give him any warnings.

Even his very first meeting with O’Connor didn’t raise red flags to trigger his profiling instincts. His initial feelings about O’Connor had excluded him as a suspect. But then he tried to hurt Scully, and all of Mulder’s ideas of O’Connor being harmless went out the window. Padgett. Pfaster. O’Connor. Mulder was getting damn tired of these lunatics thinking they can put their hands on Scully. When he cocked his gun at O’Connor, he aimed for the head, and was prepared to blow his brains out if he didn’t get his hands off of her.

“Some powerful good news, maybe,” O’Connor had told Mulder at the sheriff’s station.

Scully could’ve learned whether she was righteous or not, he had meant. This too was something Mulder had felt proud about. He didn’t need a test with a poisonous snake to find out if Scully was righteous. There wasn’t a soul on earth more pure than she was. But Mulder had ignored the lesson O’Connor was trying to teach him, the warning he was being given. He needed to be righteous too, he needed to be pure of heart. Well, it was too late now. He hadn’t heeded O’Connor’s warnings and now he was burning in Hell.

Mulder could now hear strange, unfamiliar voices talking to Scully. Their accents were a thick Southern drawl. Then cold hands were touching his skin, and all he could feel was blind agony. He knew the hands were trying to be gentle, but all he could feel was pain. Mulder could then feel himself being pulled from the hard floor onto something much softer, could feel himself being lifted up. Things were strapped to his arms and legs, his head, while there were sharp stabbing pains to the back of his hands. Mulder suddenly felt a rush of cool air, and he was moving quickly forwards, but he was still laying down.

Mulder started to panic, but then heard Scully’s voice somewhere near his head. He wished he could touch her, know that she was real and not just a diabolical vision the Devil had sent to him to further aid his torture. But if this was real and Scully was truly here with him, that would mean she was also facing eternal torment, no doubt because of him. He’d dragged her down here with him, just like he’d done with everything else. Oh, God! How could he have let this happen?!

“Mulder, please try to calm down. I know it hurts, but thrashing around only makes it worse. The EMTs are going to start you on morphine. We’ll be at the hospital soon.”

He wished Scully would get away from him! Far, far away from him. She doesn’t deserve this burning pain. He’d ruined her life, taken away everything that was good. Her sister. Her health. Her fertility. He was responsible. His pride had ruined them both. And now she was being punished for her alliance with him. But she could save herself. God would forgive her, save her, take her out of Hell. He could do that, right? Wasn’t he all-powerful? Scully could get salvation, redemption. She just had to get away from him. But how could they ever endure any length of separation, let alone an eternal one? Please, God, give them one more chance.

Oh, sweet blessed relief! Something cool was flowing through his veins, extinguishing the burning flames. His nerve endings were no longer on fire, but numbing with coolness, and then pleasant warmth overcame him. He felt weightless, he was floating; he opened his eyes. The last thing Mulder saw was a pair of beautiful blue eyes staring down at him, widened with worry and compassion, and just when his brain recognized them as belonging to Scully, he floated away into darkness.

Something was pulling Mulder back. The darkness was growing lighter. He heard faint beeping sounds. He smelled something sweet, like vanilla or clover, mixed with a clean smell. He knew that sweet scent. Scully was somewhere close. He had to get to her, but he couldn’t move. His eyes opened. He saw blue eyes and red hair surrounded by blindingly bright lights. His eyes filled with tears.

“We died,” Mulder choked.

He saw Scully breathe out a huge sigh of relief, and shake her head. “No, Mulder, we didn’t die.”

“But we’re in Heaven,” he replied, tears now leaking from the corners of his eyes. “God heard my prayer, Scully. We were rescued from Hell. We were given another chance.”

She smiled, and moved her hand to wipe away his tears. “Mulder, I know you subscribe to the theory of an airport in Hell, but I will not tolerate any ideas of there being hospitals in Heaven.”

Mulder looked at her questioningly, trying to think of the last thing he could remember before all that terrible burning pain. Snakes. Reverend Mackey. O’Connor. Mackey is the Devil. Satan. He has to warn Scully. And then a middle-aged woman in white nursing scrubs was suddenly looking down at him.

“Hey now, you’re awake,” she said to him, smiling, before turning to Scully. “I’m gonna give him another dose of Demerol, Mrs. Mulder, and, oohh good, his erection’s not as rigid anymore.”

Mulder watched Scully sigh, purse her lips, and nod her head, and then the nurse injected the medicine into his I.V. bag, before walking away.

Scully shook her head at him. “Jesus Christ. Every time, Mulder. Every single time you are in the hospital you get an erection. Why is that?”

He didn’t exactly know how to answer. Did he get a hard-on every time he was in the hospital? He couldn’t remember clearly. He still felt groggy. “You say that as though I have some control over the matter. I can’t help it. But you love me anyways, right?”

Mulder saw her eyes go wide as he started to feel warmth spread through his limbs, and he felt weightless, as if on cloud 9, without a care in the world. A goofy smile spread across his face. “You know, Scully, I knew another Catholic schoolgirl who was an expert snake handler.”

He saw a smirk come over Scully’s face. “Yeah? Was there a third sister?”

Mulder shook his head, suddenly feeling very serious. “You charmed my snake, Scully.”

He watched her blush and attempt to stop herself from grinning. “Okay, Mulder.”

Mulder looked down at the tented sheet over his pelvis. “My snake needs to be handled.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes. Then a doctor walked into the room. Mulder observed his white lab coat and stethoscope, and his silver gray hair and kind smile. “Hello there, Mr. Mulder. I’m Dr. Joseph Williams. Please just call me Joe. How are you doing tonight?”

“Joe, these drugs are fucking fantastic.”

Mulder looked at Scully as she snorted. Joe chuckled. “I’m sure they are. Anyways, after administering 22 vials of anti-venom, you appear to have reacted well to the aggressive treatment. You were very lucky Agent Scully found you immediately after the attack. If you had gotten to the hospital an hour later, you might’ve lost your arm. All in all, you had three bites, one on your upper right arm, another on your right shoulder, and one on your jaw. So, not nearly as traumatic an injury as others we’ve seen here. But, I must say, I'm frankly astounded at how quickly you are recovering. The fluid in your arm has gone down considerably, and your jaw isn’t as swollen, but I see you’ve had some swelling elsewhere.” Joe smirked down at him.

Scully glanced up at the ceiling, shaking her head.

Mulder thought there was a solution to this problem. “But she won’t charm the snake, Joe.”

“Mulder!”

Dr. Williams laughed. “I’m sure you two can work that out at another time. We’re going to move you from the I.C.U. in the morning, and then hopefully you can go home in a day or two.”

After the doctor left them, Mulder wanted to warn Scully of the snakes and Mackey. He could show up at any moment, but Mulder suddenly wanted to talk about something else.

“Scully.” He was trying to make himself sound as serious as possible. This was serious.

“Yes, Mulder?”

“Everyone thinks we’re married.” This was probably something they should talk about right now. He didn’t know why, exactly.

Scully sighed. “Not everyone. But some people tend to make that assumption a lot, that’s true.”

“Do you like being called Mrs. Mulder?” He eyed her suspiciously, and watched her eyes widen as she stared at him.

“No... it sounds weird. Mrs. Mulder is your mother’s name. Speaking of whom, would you like me to call her and tell her you’re in the hospital?”

He thought about this. “Yes, tell her I’m on my deathbed. She might tell me the truth for once.”

She sighed.

“Scully.” He had something else he had to tell her. He had to tell her right now.

“What?”

“You’re not going to Hell. Because that’s where Donnie Pfaster is. And Reverend Mackey is the Devil. The snakes belonged to him.”

“Okay, Mulder,” Scully breathed, and she patted his hand as though he were a confused child. He didn’t like that.

He stared at her, remembered how she’d mocked him at O’Connor’s church. “Scully, it’s perfectly acceptable to believe in flying saucers. You’ve seen them yourself.”

Scully gave him a puzzled look. “What? When did I say anything about… Oh. Mulder, I know. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I just didn’t want to be in the middle of nowhere Tennessee investigating a case involving snakes. You know I hate snakes. I wasn’t in the greatest of moods.”

“Scully.” Mulder had to make her see, make her understand.

She sighed. “Yes, Mulder.”

“Do you ever think that ages ago, when the universe was born, that you and I were one identity? That we were one spirit, one life force, and that somewhere along the sands of time this spirit, this life force was split in two, and it’s taken millions of years for us to reunite?”

“Um…”

“I think the universe conspired to bring us together.”

“Wow.”

“I have crossed oceans of time just to find you.”

“Mulder, that’s a quote from Bram Stoker’s _Dracula_. And not even from the book. That’s the movie.”

“We’re soulmates.”

“Okay.”

“Scully! I was expecting a bigger reaction.”

He watched her stare at him, color rising in her cheeks. “Mulder, you’ve got Demerol dripping into your I.V. and an erection, and you’re slurring your words. So forgive me if I just pretend like this entire conversation never happened.”

Slurring his words? He wasn’t slurring his words. Sure, his tongue felt kinda heavy, but he was speaking just fine. And now was the right time to talk about this. There was so much they needed to talk about. Mulder wanted to argue that he was perfectly capable of having a serious conversation but he felt himself being pulled under, and as everything started to go black he thought he might've felt something warm and soft press against his lips.

Later the next morning when Mulder opened his eyes, he turned to see a head of red hair resting on his blue-hospital-gown-covered upper left chest. As he looked around he saw he was in a different room than before. He wanted to move his right arm up to run his hand through Scully’s hair, but then he felt sharp pain shoot through his arm.

Scully’s head lifted off his chest, her eyes widened. “Mulder, are you in pain?”

He could only grimace and grind his teeth. Scully left the room and a minute later she returned with a male nurse, whose long blond hair was held back with elastic, and another dose of pain medicine. He heard the man say something like “your husband” and then Scully corrected him with “my partner.” The pain in Mulder's arm dissipated, and that glorious weightless feeling returned, he had no cares in the world.

“Ahh, I feel great. This is fucking awesome. So much better than weed.” He heard Scully and the nurse chuckling.

As the nurse turned to leave, Mulder called out to him. “Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold…”

Scully was giggling. Where was she? He turned his head to see her standing over by the wall watching him, wearing her black dress pants and green sweater. He wanted her to come back to his chest. He suddenly felt very strongly that she shouldn’t be way over there where he couldn’t reach her. It wasn’t safe. She had to stay next to him. He then scooched over towards the other side of the bed.

“Mulder, lay still.”

“Get on the bed with me, Scully.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mulder.”

“Scully, I’m not trying to have sexy time. The bed is safer. Get on the bed.”

He watched her smirk at him. “Sexy time?” She then rolled her eyes and shook her head, but she got up and laid down next to him on her side.

“That’s better, Scully. You’re safer in here with me. The Devil won’t get us if we stay in the bed.”

She snorted. “Okay, Mulder.”

There was something he had to say. It was important. “Scully, we should just get married. That way people won’t be confused anymore.”

“No, Mulder.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “Hey, did you know I’m naked under here? But I’ll have to put a doughnut on it, I don’t want to give it to you all at once.”

He looked at Scully’s arched eyebrow, and twitching mouth. “A doughnut?”

“Hey Scully.”

“What, Mulder?”

“The Yankees won the World Series.”

“I know. You made me watch it with you.”

“Scully.” He remembered something important.

She sighed. “Yes?”

Mulder felt himself grinning from ear to ear. “You think I’m hot.”

“Oh, brother.”

“I think you’re hot, Scully. I wanna stick it in your asshole.”

“Wow, okay.”

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

She snorted. “Thanks.”

“Scully? I want to be closer. Come closer.” She was still too far away. Why wasn’t her face pressed against his? This made him feel sad.

She sighed. “Mulder, no sexy time.”

“I’m not talking about sexy time. I want kisses.”

Scully chuckled. “You need to rest, Mulder.”

He shook his head, growing sadder. His eyes filled with tears, and his voice cracked. “Your kisses are the best kisses.”

“Mulder, are you crying?”

Scully then slid herself up a little farther and kissed him, he sighed against her mouth in satisfaction, and then the medication once again pulled him under.

The following day, Tuesday, February 1st, the doctor took Mulder off of Demerol and he was given Tylenol with codeine every six hours instead. His arm, which had once swollen beyond recognition with fluid, was returning to normal. There was no more pain in his jaw. And every time Mulder opened his eyes, Scully would be there. Sometimes she was asleep, sometimes she was awake. She’d look at him tenderly, brush his hair back from his forehead, caress his face, sometimes even kiss him. Knowing that Scully wasn’t usually demonstrative, and that this sort of free expressiveness from her was likely temporary, he appreciated her care all the more.

He barely remembered his conversations with Scully under the influence of Demerol, but what she’d told him made him feel either extremely amused or embarrassed. He couldn’t believe he quoted from that god-awful _Dracula_ movie, and then he gave Scully a disgusted face when she’d said she had liked it. He bitterly accused her of liking that pretty boy Keanu Reeves. But then she’d surprised him by saying that wasn’t the case at all, that she had “a thing” for Gary Oldman. And here Mulder had thought Scully couldn’t get any cooler. He made a point to add _The Professional_ to his list of movies he wanted to watch with her.

Scully had also informed him that he’d made a backhanded marriage proposal. What the fuck? He was glad to be off that stuff and on something a lot less potent. She then quipped about him only making confessions when on painkillers and muttered something about the Bermuda Triangle. Mulder wondered what he’d said to her in the hospital that time. Did he also have an erection then too? Why hadn’t she informed him about this habit sooner? Mulder thought back to all the times he’d been rushed to the hospital over the years, and pictured Scully sitting by his hospital bed adamantly looking at everything in the room except for the blatant hard-on tenting his bed sheets. He could only shake his head in disbelief.

There was usually some time, about an hour before his next dose of codeine, when he felt more lucid and would attempt to make sense of what had happened to him. He also felt depressed during these times. What had happened at Blessing Community Church wasn’t good. Mulder felt a sense of hopelessness and guilt.

There was definitely something supernatural about Mackey. Mulder knew it. He knew what he saw, knew what he experienced in that church office. It couldn’t be explained away by science or philosophy. If Mackey wasn’t the Devil himself, he was surely one of his demonic agents. Again, Scully wasn’t inclined to attribute anything paranormal to this case.  

Mulder tried to tell Scully that Mackey was Satan, that he was evil incarnate. But she wasn’t buying it. She even asked him how could he believe so firmly in the existence of the Devil, but still not have any conclusive belief about God? How could there be one without the other, she’d asked him. He didn’t really have a reply to that. In order for goodness to exist, must there be evil? Must darkness co-exist with the light? There was day and night, after all. The world contained both an abundance of good and evil. Going back through the ages, from the medieval period back to the ancient world, across cultures and religions, there was a common thread of belief that good and evil were dualistic opposites. Good should prevail, and evil should be destroyed. This wasn’t the case just in religion; it was also true of ethics and philosophy.

If there is a Devil, must there be a God? The Devil came from somewhere. Christianity taught he was a once a beautiful angel, created by God, that he had once been righteous, pure. But pride crept into his heart, and greed. Satan was born. Evil entered the world. But did Mulder really believe this? Was good and evil a religious dichotomy? Or was it purely moral realism? That’s just the natural state of things, and no one knows where good and evil had its beginning?

Pride. That was Mulder’s problem. Mackey had asked Mulder if he was a righteous man. Proud and self-righteous, was more like it. Hadn’t that ghost tried to warn him not that long ago? Something about his narcissism and self-righteousness, his egomania. And then there was O’Connor, trying to warn him, to help him see the truth right in front of him that he was blind to. He might’ve also been blinded by his own prejudice. Of course some intolerant, backwoods preacher is the bad guy. Of course he got his daughter pregnant. Isn’t incest what those crazy rednecks are known for? Mackey knew he’d fall for it, hook, line and sinker.

Mulder felt an indescribable sinking feeling when thinking about his own fate, his judgment. Mackey had tested him, and he’d failed. He fell for the lies, was blind to the truth. He could’ve died, or at least had his right arm amputated. Mulder still held onto his firm belief that Scully was righteous and pure. No poisonous snakes attacked her, not even the one O’Connor had forced her hand in front of. Did this mean they’re fated for separate paths? Separate judgments? Was there anything more terrifying than separation? If there really was an afterlife and in that life they were kept apart, what kind of life would that be? It would be hell. He’d rather cease to exist than exist without her.

On Tuesday evening, Scully returned to his room to inform him that there was still no sign of Mackey, even though the entire state of Tennessee was out looking for him. Mulder knew he wouldn’t be found. How can men capture the Devil? Scully still refused to believe that Mackey was anything other than a regular man. She’d told him that she knew just how evil regular men can be. He didn’t doubt that. They’d experienced enough human monsters over the years.

But Scully had confidently told him that if it was a test, he obviously had passed because he was alive. The snakes hadn’t brought about his death. But who was the one testing him? Mackey? God? Would Mulder be considered righteous and good? Mulder’s intentions were always good, he always wanted to do the right thing. But were there things about him he needed to change? Did his life even have a purpose? He’d sought out to prove the existence of alien life, to prove that the government was keeping secrets from the American people. He’d learned that truth, exposed it. But he still hadn’t found his sister. Is that his life’s purpose? To find out what had happened to her? What if he never finds out? Or what if he does? What would be his purpose then? Was there some fate, some destiny in front of him that he couldn’t see? A path he should take? Was God even listening to his prayers for a miracle? If there was truly a God. Would he ever get past his doubts and believe? He wanted to.

Early on Wednesday morning, O’Connor had come to check on him, say goodbye before Mulder left for home. He mentioned that he’d tried to visit Mulder several times, but each time he’d seen Scully in the room with him and thought it was best not to bother them. As O’Connor made to leave, he referred to Scully as his wife. Mulder couldn’t possibly imagine why O’Connor would just forget Scully was his FBI partner.

“What did I tell you, boy, about being smart down here?”

…Mulder lied on his couch on Wednesday afternoon, pondering O’Connor and his departing words. O’Connor hadn’t forgotten that he and Scully were partners. He knew that. Mulder wondered what O’Connor might’ve seen when he tried to visit him in the hospital. He’d obviously seen interaction between Mulder and Scully that wasn’t strictly professional. Was that it? O’Connor had surmised they were more than mere co-workers? Or was O’Connor giving him some kind of message? It had certainly sounded that way, and it had certainly made Mulder feel uncomfortable.

O’Connor had said that Scully was his wife. Well, they had been partners for so long, that Mulder was no longer surprised that strangers saw their closeness and mistook it for marriage when they had no idea Mulder and Scully were FBI agents. Wasn’t marriage the most conventional partnership, after all? But O’Connor wasn’t one of those misinformed strangers. He knew the facts, and still referred to Scully as Mulder’s wife. Was he telling Mulder that he should marry Scully? Is that what was in Mulder’s heart, is that what he needed to be smart about? Or was he saying their partnership was a marriage already?

Mulder balked at the idea of attributing his partnership with Scully with something like marriage. Marriage, with its implications and potential failure, was something Mulder wanted no part of. He knew that many people feared sexual exclusivity for the rest of their lives, but that wasn’t Mulder’s problem with marriage. He certainly wouldn’t mind fucking Scully until the day he died. Actually, that would be a pretty good way to go, with the scent of her arousal in his nose and the taste of her cunt on his mouth. But didn’t marriage change things? And not usually for the better. Marriage was such a societal convention, that Mulder couldn’t help despising it. The idea of marriage only brought up negative feelings, and bitter memories.

What did Mulder even know about making a marriage work? He hadn’t seen very good examples of it over the years, particularly his parents. Mulder had lived with a woman once, for nearly five years, and he still had no clue about what exactly went wrong there. But he’d also been blind to the red flags. Sure, his relationship with Diana was most likely contrived, but it had been real to Mulder. It might’ve even become real to Diana at some point, and maybe that’s why they put the brakes on it, forced her to leave. Or maybe she just got tired of the ruse, realized she didn’t really give a damn about him, and walked out. But what was Mulder’s part in that relationship? Was he all that communicative with his feelings? No. He had loved Diana, as much as his cool emotional detachment had allowed him to. Mulder realized that all the romantic things he did, the gifts and the weekend getaways, were purely because she had expected them. He learned very early on that if he didn’t bother with flowers or jewelry, she’d accuse him of not caring for her. Mulder supposed that was the part he’d played in the relationship, keeping the peace. He did these things to avoid arguments, and because he believed this was what romantic relationships required, that was how you show love for someone, that women needed that kind of thing.

But did Scully need that kind of thing? Did she want to be married? She’d never said so in all the years he’d known her. She had made statements desiring a “normal” life. But normal is relative. What was a normal life to her? Is that a life that even included Mulder and his search for the truth? Scully had once said that she wouldn’t trade him for a conventional life in the suburbs, with its white picket fence, husband, 2.5 kids, and a dog. Was she even willing to trade her independence for shacking up with him? Wouldn’t he just annoy her over time? Wouldn’t they just start arguing, or even worse, stop talking to each other altogether? But if marriage was something she truly wanted, if that would make her happy, could Mulder ever deny her that? Could he rightfully hold that back from her, when it was in his power to give it? But what would she want to be married to him for, anyhow?

Did traditional marriage even hold a candle to what Mulder had with Scully? Did they need a piece of paper and a judge to confirm all that they are to each other? Did they need societal conventions and standards to dictate or define what they are? Mulder recoiled at the idea of anyone or anything attempting to categorize or label his relationship with Scully. Even the word ‘wife’ gave Mulder a bad taste when associated with Scully, he thought she was so much more than that, deserved so much more than something so common, something so many men easily discarded and traded in for a younger, newer version. Scully had made it clear she’d never trade him. Well, he wasn’t about to trade her either. Maybe that was good enough. Were declarations necessary? Was marriage necessary? Did they need to sit down and have a conversation about what they were? Or have a conversation about whether or not their relationship was sexually exclusive? Of course not. That was ridiculous. This thing between them didn’t need to defined or categorized. They were Mulder and Scully, and they were FBI partners, and maybe that was good enough. Did it need to be anything more than that?

But Mulder still couldn’t help wondering about what O’Connor had said, wondering what exactly he needed to be smart about in regards to Scully. Was he trying to help Mulder see a truth he was blind to? Or was it a warning?


	57. "There are so many emotions in me I wouldn't know where to start."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder forces himself into a high-profile kidnapping case in Sacramento, much to Scully's displeasure. Mulder gets shocking news. 
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of the episode "Sein Und Zeit" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> Apologies for the extra long wait for an update. Between work and the Thanksgiving holiday, I didn't have much free time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Placebo – “Running Up That Hill” (Kate Bush)
> 
> It doesn't hurt me  
> You wanna feel how it feels  
> You wanna know, know that it doesn't hurt me  
> You wanna hear about the deal I'm making  
> You, be running up that hill  
> You and me, be running up that hill
> 
> And if I only could  
> Make a deal with God  
> And get him to swap our places  
> Be running up that road  
> Be running up that hill  
> Be running up that building  
> If I only could
> 
> You don't wanna hurt me  
> But see how deep the bullet lies  
> Unaware that I'm tearing you asunder  
> There's a thunder in our hearts, baby  
> So much hate for the ones we love  
> Tell me we both matter, don't we
> 
> You, be running up that hill  
> You and me, be running up that hill  
> You and me won't be unhappy
> 
> And if I only could  
> Make a deal with God  
> And get him to swap our places  
> Be running up that road  
> Be running up that hill  
> Be running up that building  
> If I only could
> 
> C'mon, baby, c'mon, c'mon, darling  
> Let me steal this moment from you now  
> C'mon, angel, c'mon, c'mon, darling  
> Let's exchange the experience
> 
> And if I only could  
> Make a deal with God  
> And get him to swap our places  
> Be running up that road  
> Be running up that hill  
> With no problems
> 
> If I only could be running up that hill

Friday, February 4th, had been a long, dull day for Scully. She’d spent all day at the office without Mulder, reviewing the Jared Chirp case report they’d written up on Thursday. That had been a difficult day too, but for different reasons. Mulder was determined to attribute the snake attacks and Mackey to the supernatural, and Scully refused to sign off on this. They each camped in their corners, and instead of a unified case report, the one she presented to Skinner late on Friday afternoon had been divided. “Just like old times,” Skinner had quipped. Scully could only sigh.

Mulder had walked out of her apartment on Thursday evening in a terrible mood. He didn’t stay the night, like she had hoped he would. She also hadn’t exactly asked him to stay either. She had tried to on Friday, calling both his home and cell phones a few times during the day. She’d only get his answering machine or voicemail, and he’d never call her back. Scully grew increasingly irritated throughout the day.

At 5:21 pm on Friday, Scully walked into her apartment and was greeted with the most wonderful smell: a hot meal. She turned to look into her kitchen and saw Mulder standing there; setting plates, silverware, and glasses on her dining table to join two wine glasses and a bottle of Chianti. There were bags from Filomena’s on her kitchen counter. Mulder had gotten takeout from their favorite Italian restaurant in Georgetown. She wondered if this was his way of extending the olive branch. He looked at her and smiled. Yes, it definitely was. She placed her coat on the rack and then sat down at the dining table to a delicious meal of eggplant parmigiana.

After Scully and Mulder ate dinner together, the irritability that had marked the last couple days now gone, they relocated to her living room and watched the movie Mulder had brought over: _The Professional_.

“That movie is so fucked up,” Scully said as the credits rolled.

Mulder chuckled. “It is.”

“But it’s so good.”

He nodded, grinning at her. He then got up off the couch and walked over towards the television, crouching down to retrieve the VHS tape from the VCR. Scully’s eyes were glued to his back, her libido awakening. She tried to remember the last time they’d had sex, and all that came to mind was San Diego. Had it really been that long? She supposed life had gotten in the way, and work.

Mulder returned to the couch and sat next to Scully, throwing his arm against the back of the couch behind her head, and started flicking through the TV channels. Scully slid a little closer, turning slightly towards him, and moved her hand underneath the hem of his heather gray V-neck sweater, brushing her fingers back and forth across his abdomen. Mulder turned his head to look at her licking her lips, smirking at him, her pupils dilating. He knew what she wanted.

Not long after that Mulder’s naked body was pressed against her side, his index and middle fingers slamming hard and fast into her cunt, as she bent her knees and spread her thighs wide open. Four months into this thing and he knew precisely how hard and how fast Scully wanted it. As the pads of his fingers stroked that sensitive spot embedded in her front wall, she whimpered, and he grunted his satisfaction.

“Fuck, Scully,” Mulder grumbled into her ear as her muscles clenched around his fingers.

His palm was soaked with her wetness and he was thrusting his hips against her. Scully could feel his hard cock straining, but Mulder was waiting. She’d learned that he liked to wait, that he liked to prolong foreplay as much as possible, that he didn’t enjoy sex as much when it ended too quickly. Maybe that had been their partnership in a nutshell, the reason why it taken so damn long to get to this place.

“Yeah, you like it,” he muttered in her ear, causing her eyes to roll and her hips to slightly lift off the mattress. Mulder also knew that his words had a huge effect on her. He wondered if he could make her come just by talking. He’d like to test that theory. But now was not the time. He had other plans.

As Mulder’s fingers continued thrusting hard and deep to the knuckles, he brought his thumb forward to stroke Scully’s swollen clit. She moaned, grinding her hips against his hand. Scully felt the tension build, her bundle of nerves tightening, and knew a strong orgasm was coming, but then Mulder pulled his hand away. She whimpered in frustration.

He chuckled, and then spoke in a low voice, “I know what else you like."

Scully thought they were getting to the main event now, that Mulder was done waiting. But then he turned away and reached behind him. Scully’s stomach clenched. She had a feeling she knew what he was reaching for, but she thought it had been left at his apartment.

Mulder turned back towards Scully, looking down into her face, flushed with arousal. He stared at her, eyes blazing with feral desire, as he clicked the vibrator on low and a buzzing sound could be heard. She started panting in anticipation. She knew what was going to happen. She knew how hard she was going to come. Her muscles tensed with memory, her brows knitted but she didn’t look away from Mulder’s face. His eyes had gripped her.

He grinned as he moved the vibrator slowly along her inner thigh towards her hot center, before sliding it through her swollen folds, soaking wet with her juices. Scully gasped as she felt the vibrator hum against her sensitive skin. Her clit throbbed with aching need as more wet desire flowed out from her entrance.

Mulder then slid the lubricated tip to press down on Scully’s clit, eliciting a guttural moan. Her body writhed on the bed, and her toes curled into the mattress. But her face was still glued to Mulder’s, which hung over her mere inches away. Scully licked her lips and then darted out her tongue, her eyes teasing him, before closing the distance between them and brushing the tip of her tongue across his lips. Mulder groaned, and then kissed her hard as he continued to press the vibrator in circles around her clit. The idea that had sprung to his mind earlier that day came forward, his engorged cock throbbed, and Mulder moved the vibrator down through her folds to her entrance, clicking the speed to high. He recaptured Scully’s lips and as his tongue entered her mouth, insistently stroking her own tongue, he pushed the vibrator inside her cunt, hard and as deep as it could go, grinding into her, circling, pulling out, thrusting back in.

Scully gasped, breaking the kiss, and her muscles clenched around it. But then her lips found his again and she kissed him soundly, whimpering into his mouth. Almost immediately she had to break the kiss, her mind unable to focus on anything but the vibrations at her hot core, the sensations surging through her body. Her eyes closed, and she concentrated on the waves of pleasure streaking out from her center.

Mulder looked down at his hand thrusting the vibrator in and out of Scully’s cunt, watched her squirm as he fucked her with it. Scully opened her eyes to see Mulder staring down at her center, and spread her legs wider for him. He grunted his appreciation and stared at her engorged clit, begging to be touched.

He turned his head to look back into her face, their eyes meeting in an intense gaze, and he pulled the glistening wet vibrator from Scully’s cunt and pressed down on her clit, electric jolts of pleasure throbbing at her core. Some kind of mewling groan erupted from Scully’s throat and her hand flew to the back of Mulder’s head, her fingers gripping his hair into a tight fist. He growled and his mouth flew to her neck, kissing and stroking his tongue against that soft spot behind her earlobe.

Scully felt her orgasm rising up from deep inside her, her center tightened and her muscles tensed, her body going rigid. Mulder bit her neck behind her ear at the same time he pressed down hard against her clit, grinding the tip of the vibrator in a tight circle. The combination of his teeth on her skin and the vibrating friction against her clit sent her over the edge, and her back arched off the mattress.

“Oh, God! Mulder!” she cried out.

Waves of pleasure coursed through her brain, her hips writhed against the vibrator, grinding her clit against it, whimpering Mulder’s name as she rode out the intense orgasm. The sound of his name whimpered on Scully’s lips, the look on her face as she did so, a look that was at once affectionate and also seemed pleading or desperate, always filled him with a self-satisfaction he’d never known before. It also filled him with a sense of fierce devotion. He’d do anything for this woman. He'd lie, beg, steal, and kill for her. He would fucking die for her.

Mulder turned the vibrator off and tossed it to the side, before watching Scully, her body glistening with sweat, her chest heaving, her hips writhing. Mulder stared down at her groin, finding it drenched, along with her inner thighs. He could no longer ignore his cock, painfully engorged and aching with need. Scully couldn’t ignore it either, and rolled over onto her stomach, slightly lifting her ass up off the mattress.

“Oohh, Mulder, fuck me,” she moaned, orgasmic after-shocks still rippling through her brain.

He groaned and stared at her ass in the air, with the rest of her body lying flat on the bed, her glistening wet center exposed to him as she spread her legs, bending her knees. Another rush of blood shot to his groin, his cock straining painfully. Mulder then laid down over her, pressing his chest into her back, his mouth at her ear and his hands on the mattress just below her bent elbows.

“Scully,” Mulder said in a low voice. “I’m gonna make you come so hard.”

“Do it,” she groaned, his words registering with her clit as fresh moisture dripped from her center.

He bent his knees between her spread legs, and then buried his hard cock in her cunt to the hilt, his pelvis pressing into her ass.

"God, Scully, you feel so good," Mulder groaned, her cunt clenching around him, the tightness of her wet heat finally bringing pleasurable relief to his throbbing cock.

Scully moaned at the deep penetration as Mulder fucked her hard. The combination of Mulder’s groans every time his cock filled her up, his engorged head rubbing the sweet spot in her front wall every time he thrust inside her cunt, their skin pressing together, his mouth at her ear grunting a mixture of wildly explicit language and her name, and her clit grinding into the mattress as she thrust her hips to meet his, was setting Scully's nerve endings on fire.

She was moaning and whimpering words of pleasure, the exquisite tension building slowly from deep inside, knowing the slow build signified just how intense she was going to come. Mulder kept his mouth at Scully's neck, kissing and licking her soft skin, as his hands moved over hers and he entwined their fingers. Scully’s sounds in his ears and the scent of her arousal filling his nostrils filled Mulder with feral lust. His body, his mind, had never responded to a woman, and to sex, like it responded to Scully. Sometimes he felt as though he could weep from it, or burst into flames.

When Mulder lifted himself up and grabbed her ass hard, pounding into her, before sliding his right thumb through her juices and up to her anus, pushing his thumb inside, Scully’s eyes opened in shock and then she cried out as a powerful orgasm suddenly overtook her. Her eyes slammed shut, her mouth hung open with cries, her vaginal muscles clenched and she bore down, grinding her clit hard into the mattress, her hands gripping the pillow in front of her until her knuckles turned white. Warm, clear liquid rushed out from Scully’s center, sending Mulder over the edge and he was coming hard, his loud guttural moans filling the bedroom as he thrust deep inside her to the hilt and his hot seed filled her in copious spurts.

“Mulder?” Scully breathed, her chest heaving.

“Yeah?” he asked in her ear, having collapsed on her.

“I’ll have to take a shower before I can sleep. I’m a fucking mess.” The nervous giggling was back.

Mulder started chuckling as he lifted himself up and fell onto the mattress beside her.

Later, Mulder’s cell phone started ringing, waking him from a sound sleep, and he quickly reached for his blue jeans on the floor by the bed, grabbing the phone from the pocket on the second ring before it could wake up Scully.

“Mulder.” He glanced over at Scully, laying on her side with her back to him, glad the phone hadn’t woken her up.

“Hey, Mulder. Danny Valladeo here.”

“Oh, hi Danny,” Mulder said, keeping his voice low, before looking over across the bed to the digital clock on Scully’s bedside table, telling him it was 2:43 am. “What’s going on?”

“Working a kidnapping case in Skinner’s office. California issued an AMBER Alert almost an hour ago. Little girl was taken from her home in Sacramento.”

Mulder sighed. A nightmare of a case. He wouldn't wish that on anyone. “Um, why are you calling me with this?”

“Well, uh, the details are kinda strange. She went missing at 9:30 pm Cali time, all doors and windows locked, both parents at home. There’s no sign of a break-in, but a note was left in the girl’s bedroom. It’s threatening, but it makes no demands. The girl’s bedroom window was still locked when the police got there, and the window clearly hadn’t been opened in months. There are no fingerprints, blood or any other sign of a struggle, or evidence that anyone had been in the house besides the parents. The girl just… vanished, I guess. Well, unless the parents are hiding something, of course, but that's not the opinion of local police, at least right now. Just thought you, uh, might be interested.”

“I am,” Mulder said, his mind going into overdrive, as he sat up and slid out of the bed, once again making sure Scully was still asleep.

*****

Scully woke up at 7:38 am on Saturday morning, February 5th, to find her apartment devoid of Mulder. She didn’t think much of it, assuming he’d woken up earlier than anticipated and had gone home. She spent a quiet day running errands and doing chores. At 5:00 pm, while she sat in her living room folding laundry and watching the news, her cell phone rang. Thinking it was Mulder, she smiled as she reached for it, but then saw it was a Bureau phone number.

“Scully.”

“Agent Scully, where the hell is Mulder?”

It was Skinner. And he was angry. “I… I’m guessing he’s at home, sir.”

There was a long pause. “I’ve called him on his cell, and even called him at home thinking he might’ve flown back. No answer. He was supposed to have a report for me by noon.”

This didn’t make any sense to her. They had already handed in their case report. And what did he mean by ‘flown back?’ “What report, sir?”

Skinner sighed in frustration. “His report on Amber Lynn LaPierre.”

Scully turned to look at the television. “The missing girl on the news?”

“Mulder flew to Sacramento this morning to talk to the LaPierres. Agent Scully, do you seriously know nothing about this?”

She was speechless. Mulder went off to California. This morning. Without bringing her along. Without even telling her.

“Of course you don’t,” Skinner griped. “Scully, you better go find your firebrand of a partner and get me that damn report!”

She flinched at the sound of Skinner’s phone slamming down hard, the dial tone ringing in her ear. Scully shook her head in frustration as she walked into her bedroom and grabbed her overnight bag, packing some things and heading out to her car. She called Mulder’s cell phone as she got into the driver’s seat, but it went straight to voicemail. She slammed her phone shut in anger.

Scully fumed as she stood in line at her airport gate, after finally getting a seat on a flight out of D.C. There was one nonstop flight that evening and it was departing at 6:30 pm, getting into Sacramento at 9:38 local time. Scully would be on a plane for the next six hours. This wasn’t how she’d been hoping to spend her weekend. She called Mulder’s phone again; he didn't answer and she got his voicemail.

“Mulder, I’m boarding a plane heading for Sacramento. It will land at approximately 9:30 pm. Where the hell are you?”

While standing in line, her cell phone finally rang, but much to her chagrin it wasn’t Mulder.

“Scully.”

“Hey, Agent Scully, it’s Danny Valladeo.”

She hadn’t heard from him in a while. “Hi, Danny. What’s up?”

“I, uh, don’t suppose you’ve heard from Mulder at all, by any chance?”

Scully heaved a frustrated sigh. “No, I haven’t spoken to him since yesterday.”

“I need to get a message to him. We have to move in on the LaPierres as possible suspects. The media found out the details of the case, and they’re going to broadcast them tonight. The police are bringing the LaPierres in to offset whatever outrage the press is going to drudge up.”

“Danny?”

“Yeah, Scully?”

“Tell me everything you know about this case.”

After Scully landed in Sacramento, she turned on her cell phone as she headed towards the rental car counters. She had a voicemail.

“Sky Riders Airport Motel. Duckhorn Drive. Room 17.”

Scully sighed, and after collecting a rental car, drove towards Duckhorn Drive. At 10:12 pm she pulled into the motel and parked in one of the spaces in front of room 17. She got out and knocked on the door.

“It's open,” Mulder called from inside.

“Mulder?” Scully said as she opened the door.

“Come on in.” He was laying down fully dressed on top of the motel bed, a muted television serving as the only light in the room.

“What are you doing?” she asked from the doorway.

“Thinking.”

Scully didn’t have the patience for this. “About?”

“Amber Lynn LaPierre.”

Scully stepped inside. “Mind if I turn on a light?”

“Yeah,” Mulder replied softly. “I do.”

She wanted to turn the lights on, if only to piss him off, but she didn’t think that would be the best way to handle this and closed the door behind her. “Skinner is royally pissed. At you.”

“I'm sure he is.”

Scully could see that Mulder didn’t seem too concerned about that. “He expected a report at noon. He waited. Now he sent me to find you, to get it.”

Mulder still hadn’t turned his attention from the muted television. “I don't have a report.”

Scully thought he didn’t seem too concerned about that either. _Skinner’s gonna love that._ “They had to move on the case. The media got wind of the police findings and they're going to broadcast them. The parents are being held for further questioning.”

He finally tore his attention away from the TV to look at her. “They're not guilty, Scully.”

“The facts would say otherwise. There's no sign of a break-in. Both parents were home when the girl disappeared.”

“They lied about where they found the note,” Mulder replied.

“Why?”

“That's what I've been thinking about.”

Scully turned to the television to see a news story about Jon-Benet Ramsey segue into a story about Amber Lynn LaPierre. “Is it the media or just our own morbid fascination with the killing of an innocent?”

“She's not dead, Scully.”

Mulder’s cell phone started ringing and he sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, to answer it. Scully gave him a sarcastic look, which he didn’t seem to notice. Sure, now he’ll answer his phone. She couldn’t believe she was here, couldn’t believe that almost seven years into their partnership and he was still pulling this shit. She watched as Mulder hung up the phone, and then she stepped back outside to her rental car to retrieve her overnight bag. She was suddenly filled with heartbreaking thoughts of Emily, another innocent young life taken, pain and guilt rising up to battle it out for the most dominant emotion with her anger at Mulder. Anger was winning at the moment.

Once back inside, Scully set her bag down on the other side of the bed from where Mulder was again reclining and watching the muted television. She kicked off her shoes, removed her suit jacket, pants, red short-sleeved top, pantyhose, and black lace bra. She could feel Mulder’s eyes on her as she pulled a white tank top from her bag and put it on. As she moved her bag to the floor in front of the bed, Mulder stood up and started undressing. Scully climbed into bed underneath the covers, and laid down with her back to him. She felt the bed shift as Mulder got into it, and then he slid over close behind her, reaching his hand across her waist.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Mulder sighed and pulled his hand away, before moving back over to his side of the bed and settling back against his pillow. After a few more minutes of muted television watching, he turned it off. Scully laid there, seething, and fought hard to check her anger, to keep her feelings silent, when what she really wanted was to rail against him.

Two people in a relationship didn’t normally have to deal with one half running off to the other side of the country without even informing the other person. Why did Mulder continue to think this was acceptable behavior? She didn’t think it was acceptable years ago, and she sure as hell didn’t think it’s acceptable now. What made him think it was okay to leave her apartment in the middle of the night and fly to California without even telling her about it? Why did he continue to leave her out, go off without her? He obviously felt that he didn’t owe her explanations; that he didn’t need to tell her whenever he decided to hop on a plane or get in his car and leave the state, or even the country. He didn’t believe she needed explanations, she didn’t need to know. Why did she expect things to be different now? This was who Mulder was, this was his behavior since she’d known him: Running off someplace, leaving her none the wiser, and then she’s forced to go chasing after him to clean up the mess. She was fucking sick of it. She didn’t want this to be her life. But, of course he kept doing it because she let him. She could never bring herself to make outright demands of him. Jennifer would just say she’s enabling him. Well, she probably did. So how could she expect him to change when she didn’t?

Mulder sighed. “Scully…”

“Mulder, do you remember a conversation we had not that long ago about expectations and responsibility?”

Silence. He then sighed again. “Sorry, Scully.”

“Don’t do it again.” She hoped he heard the finality of her tone, and thought maybe he did as the room fell silent and he didn’t reply.

*****

After informing Mulder that Skinner was holding a briefing at 9:00 am the following morning, Scully eventually fell asleep, but he was unable to. He stepped into the bathroom and set about trying to find a way to get back to D.C. by 9:00 am. His efforts were proving fruitless until the man working the Sacramento International Airport information desk quipped that Mulder’s only chance at getting back on the east coast by 9:00 am Eastern Standard Time was if he snuck onto NASA’s Tu-144 that was departing Sacramento for Florida at 4:00 am. Apparently NASA would be holding its 36th annual Joint Propulsion Conference in Sacramento that year. Mulder immediately got on the phone to track down Michelle Generoo in Houston and called in a favor.

At 4:00 am local time, Mulder and Scully departed Sacramento on NASA’s Tu-144FL supersonic research aircraft. Both pilots welcomed them on board and didn’t seem to mind making a pit stop in D.C. before heading down to Florida. In just 100 minutes, the jet was landing at Washington Dulles International Airport at 8:40 am local time. After saying ‘thank yous’ and ‘goodbyes’ to the pilots and crew, Mulder and Scully departed the plane in silence.

Scully actually hadn’t spoken a word to him all morning. At first Mulder hadn’t given too much thought about flying out to Sacramento without telling Scully about it. He just did it, without second thought. Despite nearly seven years with Scully, it was still his nature at times to go off independently, to keep things to himself, to involve her as little as possible. He wasn’t exactly sure why. Usually he told himself that he did so for her own protection, but he knew there was something else laying underneath this reasoning.

Although Mulder knew how important Scully was to his work, how much he needed her rational thinking and scientific approach to keep him steady, to even keep him from deceiving himself, there were times when he actively bucked against her rationalism and scientific reasoning. Those times usually occurred when he believed without a shred of doubt that he was right, and knew Scully would only disagree with him and try to convince him that he was wrong. So he pursued things alone, knowing she would just try to talk him out of it. Mulder realized that most of the time this got him into serious trouble, and Scully would have to swoop in to save his ass. Yet, this never deterred him from doing it again at a later date.

For as much as it seemed that their beliefs were finally finding some common ground after everything Scully had discovered last summer, their overall belief systems were still at odds. Scully seemed to Mulder to be reclaiming her faith lately, which he knew he had encouraged her not to give up on that, but the way she had adamantly refused to attribute anything paranormal to their most recent cast involving the Reverend Mackey left Mulder feeling frustrated. He knew what he saw, what had happened to him in that church office. But Scully refused to believe him, refused to believe that Mackey had caused snakes to appear out of thin air, that he was anything other than a regular human being.

Scully had never been one to take personal accounts of events at face value, to believe them as gospel truth. She needed hard facts, concrete proof, and real evidence to back something up. Just because a person claimed she was raped by a ghost, Scully wasn’t just going to believe this actually happened just because the person said it did. She treated Mulder the same way. Just because he claimed to see a spaceship rise up out the ice and fly away through the Antarctic sky, she wasn’t just going to believe based on someone’s word, even his. This, of course, was frustrating for Mulder, as he was prone to believe first person accounts as facts when he felt the person was being truthful. He most certainly believed everything that came out of Scully’s mouth without a doubt. The fact that Scully didn’t often extend Mulder this unflinching faith in the things he claimed could be exasperating.

So he went off to Sacramento alone, knowing Scully would discourage any investigation with a supernatural angle that had nothing to back it up other than his gut feelings. Mulder also knew what Scully’s reaction would be to his desire to pursue a case about a missing girl. It would be exactly like what her reaction had been every other time they’d worked similar cases over the years. She would tell him that he was identifying this missing girl with Samantha, and that he wasn’t capable of investigating this case with any objectivity. She would tell him his judgment was clouded by his own feelings. And so maybe to avoid this reaction, or at least to postpone it until he’d gotten a good handle on the situation, he purposely kept Scully out of the Amber Lynn LaPierre case.

Scully was angry with him, that had been clear. But Mulder sensed there was something else underneath the anger, there was hurt. She possibly felt hurt that he would leave her out, or that he didn’t deem it important that she know where he is. He also thought there might’ve been something else, something deeper, but he wasn’t sure how much deeper he wanted to dig at the moment. Besides, she was completely closed down to him right now; there was a wall in front of her, hiding her emotions.

While the uniting of their bodies now worked like clockwork, uniting their hearts and minds, their souls, was a much bigger challenge than Mulder had supposed it would be. Finding the right balance between maintaining one’s autonomy and the necessary abdication involved with entangling oneself with another person had always been challenging in a partnership as intense as theirs. And with their physical relationship what it was now, finding this balance was all the more complicated.

*****

Once Mulder and Scully got into her car at the airport parking lot, they took the 40 minute drive to the Hoover Building on Pennsylvania Avenue in D.C. After parking in the garage, they made their way to Skinner’s office and walked through the door at 9:41 am to see the briefing underway. The gathered agents were discussing the forensic evidence of the case and a note in red ink was on the overhead projector.

“The paper's a type used by dry cleaners to protect laundered garments,” Skinner said. “The torn piece the note was found on matches exactly a piece that was found in the garbage at the LaPierre home. The ink matches a felt tip pen that was also found in the garbage. One set of prints were found on it: Billie LaPierre's prints.”

This was the first time Mulder had seen the actual note, and there was something about it that seemed familiar to him. “Is it her handwriting?”

“That's going to be difficult to prove due to the felt tip pen and the quality of the paper which tends to cause bleeding and makes the handwriting indistinct,” Agent Flagler replied. “It also looks like there's been an attempt to disguise the writing. By using samples of Mrs. LaPierre's handwriting, you see dominant letter forms: the ‘s’ in ‘strangle,’ ‘stray dog,’ here in ‘Santa Claus...’” He then replaced the note with a carbon check stub on the projector. “Matches up with the S's in ‘dollars,’ ‘seven’ and ‘cents.’ Enough to make a connection.”

Mulder knew the LaPierres were not guilty of this. “But not an indictment.”

“Do you have information you'd like to share with us, Agent Mulder?” Skinner asked, patronizingly.

He had to make these people see that the LaPierres could not logically have done this. “Bud LaPierre says he'd been watching television and had gotten up to go to bed when he found Amber Lynn missing. But according to the police report the TV set was still on when the first officers arrived on the scene. By his own account both mother and father put Amber Lynn to bed, and were never more than 20 feet from her room during the period in which she was abducted. The LaPierres know all their neighbors up and down the street, are on good terms with them. But no one saw a stranger on a Friday at a fairly early hour enter into a locked and lighted home and remove this little girl undetected.”

“Husband's lying for his wife,” Agent Flagler said.

No, that couldn’t be true. “I don't think so,” Mulder replied.

“Why?” Skinner asked.

“Because that doesn't explain what happened to this little girl.” Mulder stared at the note. He definitely knew he’d seen something like that before. In an X-file. He then turned and left the room, leaving puzzled agents staring at each other in his wake.

Scully looked at an unamused Skinner, before turning to leave the office and follow Mulder. She didn’t see how he was helping the situation, helping those agents find this missing girl. He only served to irritate everyone in that room. She also saw the signs, knew why Mulder felt so strongly about Amber Lynn LaPierre, about his belief that the parents couldn’t possibly have done it. Scully thought it was fairly obvious the parents were involved, as did everyone else in Skinner’s office.

Mulder reached his basement office, and started to search through his filing cabinets. Almost immediately after, Scully walked into the office and over to stand next to him.

“What are you doing, Mulder?”

“There's something in that abduction note that I've seen before.”

“That's not what I mean. You're personalizing this case. You're identifying with your sister.”

 _And there it is_ , Mulder thought, slightly amused. “My sister was taken by aliens. Did I say anything about aliens, Scully?”

Scully wasn’t amused. “There are a lot of good agents up there in Skinner's office who do not have the patience for this.” _Yeah, like me._

“What did I do? I provided a logical counterpoint.”

“You told them that they were wrong, Mulder.”

Mulder found the file he was looking for, opening it. “And they are.”

He handed her the file, and in it was note that ended: "I will not hesitate to execute this child. Don't do anything dumb. No one shoots at Santa Claus."

Mulder pointed to the note emphatically. “Pocatello, Idaho, 1987. Look familiar?”

Scully was shocked. How could this be possible?

They immediately headed back to Dulles and got on the 11:20 am flight to Idaho. After a 50 minute layover in Denver, they landed in Boise at 4:15 pm local time on Sunday and after picking up a rental car, they drove 10 miles to the South Boise Women’s Correctional Center. There they met an inmate, Kathy Lee Tencate, whose six year old son had disappeared from his bedroom in 1987, his body never found. As Mulder talked to this woman, Scully sensed that he was projecting his own beliefs into her account of events, that he was leading her. Scully knew that Mulder was getting so wrapped up in this case he could become blind to the facts right in front of him.

“That was utterly irresponsible, Mulder,” she said as they made their way down the cell block. “It was out of line and it was without any basis in reality.”

“Do you think that woman could have killed her son?” He didn’t see how anyone could look at that woman and see a cold-blooded killer.

Scully didn’t honestly think the woman came across as capable, but so many murderers don’t. “She was convicted in a court of law.”

“So how do you explain those two notes written ten years apart could contain the same obscure phrase?”

Right now Scully didn’t care about solving any damn mystery. Mulder needed to be reined in before this got out of hand. She knew what this will do to him. Once they discover Amber Lynn’s body, he’ll be crushed. And then he’ll blame himself, thinking there was something he could’ve done to save her, and the guilt will eat away at him. It would be like Samantha’s abduction happening all over again.

“I can't explain it, Mulder, but you're doing exactly what I said. You're personalizing this case.”

“No, I'm gonna solve this case,” he replied, turning to look directly at her. “I am gonna solve it.”

Scully didn’t see this being a likely possibility. “How?”

“I’m gonna find those kids,” Mulder replied, as a prison guard unlocked the door to let them out of the block.

“What if they're dead, Mulder?” He needed to prepare himself for the inevitable, needed to face reality.

Mulder didn’t reply and just walked away from her.

This was definitely getting out of hand. “Don't go looking for something you don't want to find.”

Before they left the prison, they were called back by one of the guards stating that Kathy Lee Tencate was desperate to talk to them again. Mulder and Scully returned to her cell, where she taped a video confessional of her account of seeing a vision of her son dead, before he disappeared from his bedroom, while she wrote a threatening note which she had no real memory of writing. After returning to the airport, Mulder wanted them to fly immediately to Sacramento to show the LaPierres but Scully was adamantly against it.

“No, Mulder. You are way too close to this case. You need to walk away from it. Let Skinner and the other agents handle it.”

“Scully, the LaPierres are innocent! The FBI is going to hang them on a note which no one can explain how or why it was written, which can be corroborated by Kathy Lee.”

“She’s a convicted felon, Mulder. Who will even believe her?”

“I do.”

Mulder then walked away from Scully and purchased a plane ticket to Sacramento, while an angry and frustrated Scully returned to D.C.

*****

Scully walked into their basement office at 8:30 am on Monday morning, February 7th, not having heard from Mulder since they parted ways in Idaho the day before. At just past 12:00 pm the office phone rang.

“Scully.”

“Agent Scully, has Mulder returned yet?” Skinner asked, sounding angry yet again.

She sighed. “No, sir, not that I know of. I don’t know when I expect to see him.”

Skinner paused, and then sternly continued. “Last night Agent Mulder boarded the red eye flight for D.C. If he knows what’s good for him he’ll check into the office today. Oh, and Scully, I think you might want to keep better track of your partner.”

“Yes, sir,” Scully replied, sighing, just as Mulder walked through the door. “Um, actually, sir, he’s right here.”

He approached the desk, and she handed him the phone. “Mulder.”

“Agent Mulder, get your ass up here. Now!” Skinner then slammed down the phone.

Mulder hung up the phone, and then turned to walk away from the desk. “I hope Skinner has some Astroglide, ‘cause I think I’m gonna need it.”

Scully silently watched Mulder disappear through the office doorway. Twenty minutes later, the telephone rang.

“Scully.”

“Hello, I need to speak with Fox Mulder.” It was a woman’s voice, and Scully didn’t recognize it.

“He’s in a meeting right now, but this is his partner speaking. Agent Dana Scully.”

“Okay, well uh, this is Officer Patricia Ferguson with the Greenwich Police Department, and I’m calling to contact the next of kin for Mrs. Teena Mulder.”

Scully’s stomach knotted. _Oh, no. What’s happened?_ “Yes, that would be my partner, Agent Fox Mulder.”

“Okay. This morning we responded to a call on Lawrence Street. The deceased body of Mrs. Mulder was discovered on her kitchen floor by a neighbor. As of right now we’re ruling it a suicide, but we technically haven’t started an investigation yet. This is just based on initial observation. Agent Mulder will probably want to come up here.”

Her stomach bottomed out, and Scully had to sit down in the office chair.

“I’ll tell him right away,” Scully replied, her voice choked.

“Thank you.” With that, Officer Ferguson hung up the phone.

Hearing this was like a baseball flying through a pristine window, a rock being thrown into the glassy surface of a calm lake. It was jarring, and distressing. Mulder’s mother was dead. And she was the one who would have to deliver this news. She thought of the pain this would bring him, the sorrow. Her heart was breaking for him.

Scully had to move before her feelings could crush her, so she hung up the phone that had been momentarily frozen in her hand, and left the basement to make her way to Skinner’s office. As she rode the elevator up to the fourth floor she tried to focus her thoughts on how she would tell Mulder the news while forcing thoughts away concerning what this would mean for him, for their relationship.

As the elevator passed the second floor, she realized that Mulder was now orphaned, parentless. Something deep inside clutched at her and ached. It wasn’t fair for one person to suffer so much pain in so short a time. Something else deep inside clutched at her: her love for him. She could feel it deepening, gaining strength. Scully also felt her sense of responsibility for him rising exponentially. She was then suddenly overcome with a feeling of possessiveness, one that she’d fought for years to push away but now could no longer. Mulder truly belonged to her now, if just for the simple reason that he no longer belonged to anyone else. There was no longer anyone else on the planet who could ever lay some kind of claim to him. Only she could.

Scully breezed right past Skinner’s protesting secretary with a brisk “It’s an emergency” as she approached Skinner’s office. She could hear the tension behind the door as Skinner laid into Mulder, and Mulder heatedly defended his actions.

After steeling herself, she slowly opened the door without knocking. “Sir.”

“What?” Skinner barked. “What is it, Agent Scully?”

“I need to have a word with Agent Mulder.” She could feel her throat constricting, the tears threatening, while wishing she could take the pain for him instead.

“It can wait,” Skinner replied impatiently, clearly irritated.

Scully felt the responsibility rising, the protectiveness, the possessiveness. “No, it can't, sir.”

“What is it, Scully?” Mulder asked.

She hadn’t wanted to say it front of Skinner. She wanted to tell Mulder alone, in private. Not in Skinner’s office. But that now seemed impossible.

“Mulder, your mom's dead,” she spoke softly, trying to control her emotions, the tears threatening to make an appearance.

He stared at her. A baseball crashed through a window. A rock splashed through the calm surface of a watery pool. Ripples radiated out across the surface from the point of disturbance, far-reaching consequences that couldn't be imagined.


	58. "She was trying to tell me something."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another flashback. Scully receives a gut-wrenching request from Mulder. Both Mulder and Scully ponder the actions of Teena Mulder. They then spend a hard night coping with grief.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of the episode "Sein Und Zeit" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Placebo – “I’ll Be Yours”
> 
> I'll be your water  
> Bathing you clean  
> With liquid peace  
> I'll be your ether  
> You'll breathe me in  
> You won't release
> 
> Well, I've seen you suffer  
> I've seen you cry  
> The whole night through  
> So I'll be your water  
> Bathing you clean  
> With liquid blue
> 
> I'll be your father  
> I'll be your mother  
> I'll be your lover  
> I'll be yours
> 
> I'll be your liquor  
> Bathing your soul  
> With juice that's pure  
> And I'll be your anchor  
> You'll never leave  
> These shores that cure
> 
> Well, I've seen you suffer  
> I've seen you cry  
> For days and days  
> So I'll be your liquor  
> Demons will drown  
> And float away
> 
> I'll be your father  
> I'll be your mother  
> I'll be your lover  
> I'll be yours

May 21, 1996

It was after midnight at Miriam Hospital in Providence, Rhode Island and despite visiting hours having been long over, Mulder and Scully remained at his mother’s bedside. Scully watched Mulder sitting hunched over with his elbows on his knees, his hands entwined. His brows were furrowed with worry, fear and anxiety splayed across his features. Mulder had no idea how he’d gotten to the hospital and he’d refused medical treatment, despite Scully’s pleas. When she had made to leave, to give him some time alone with his mother, Mulder had abruptly thrown out his hand and grabbed her wrist, shaking his head at her. So she sat back down in the chair next to him.

“I got to hold her, put my arms around her,” Mulder said quietly.

Scully looked at him, and sighed. “Samantha?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Or, well, a clone of her, anyways. Jeremiah Smith said she was a worker drone, one of many. She couldn’t speak, and I don’t know how much she understood when I spoke to her. But I got to hold her in my arms. I tried to take her back with me. I couldn’t leave her there with no one to take care of her. But… I don’t know what happened. I feel like I failed her again.”

“You can’t keep blaming yourself,” Scully sighed. She didn’t know why Samantha had been cloned, why anyone would even want to and for what purpose. But none of it was Mulder’s fault.

Mulder sighed, closing his eyes. When he opened them Scully could see the unshed tears, the pain etched across his face. “He was here, Scully.”

“Who?”

“The Smoking Man. He was at the summerhouse with my mother when she got sick. He was here at the hospital; told me she contacted him.”

Scully’s eyes widened in shock. Why hadn’t he told her before? “Mulder, don’t believe anything that man tells you.”

“There were pictures of them together at the house in Quonochautaug, Scully. Cancer Man is the reason she’s in the hospital. She was trying to help me. She was trying to tell me something… to look for the lamp. And he hurt her to stop her from helping me.”

Scully sighed. “We don’t really know if she meant ‘lamp,’ Mulder. She wrote the word ‘palm.’ That’s not conclusive evidence that she knew anything about Jeremiah Smith, or those clones.”

“But she knows about Samantha.” Mulder sat up and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall.

She looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean? Your mother knows what happened to her? And... she’s been keeping it from you… all this time?”

Mulder nodded, his face beginning to crumple with emotion. “She was trying to tell me something. If she dies, I’ll never know what happened to Samantha. I’ll never know the truth.”

Scully watched as tears welled up in his eyes and brimmed over. “Mulder, your mom isn’t going to die. Not now. There’s still hope. You can ask her to tell you.”

He shook his head, wiping away his tears with his right hand. “I can’t. They’ll kill her. Just like they killed my father when he decided to help me, to finally tell me the truth.”

“Oh, Mulder…” she breathed, reaching out to hold his hand, their fingers entwining.

Scully looked over at Teena Mulder’s face, as she unconsciously laid there in the room with them, possibly overhearing their intimate conversation. Scully knew that it was possible for coma patients to hear those around them, to feel their presence, even if they cannot respond in any way. She wondered if Mrs. Mulder could hear them, could hear the anguish in her son’s voice, and realize just how much he has suffered in his search for his sister. Scully couldn’t get over the fact that Mulder’s parents had known all along what had happened to Samantha, and had just refused to relate this truth to Mulder. In Scully’s mind, this was such a betrayal of Mulder’s love and trust. And yet there he was, maintaining a constant vigil at his mother’s bedside, not ready to face the tragic loss of another member of his family.

*****

Scully was standing in Skinner’s office, looking into Mulder’s shocked face, stunned into silence. He had heard the words Scully said and she knew he understood them, but maybe they just didn’t seem real because he responded to her with “What?”

She fought hard to brace herself against the emotions battling inside her. “The Greenwich police just called. One of your mother’s neighbors found her.”

Mulder stood up from the table and walked towards her. “That’s not possible. I… I just talked to her.”

She sighed, her heart breaking. “Mulder…”

But he brushed right by her and out of the office. Scully turned to look at Skinner, as he watched her with quiet concern. She turned and left the office, following Mulder back down to the basement. They collected their coats in silence, turning off the lights and locking their office door behind them. After getting into Scully’s car, they drove to Washington Dulles International Airport and then boarded the next nonstop flight to New York City, departing at 2:10 pm.

Once they’d collected a rental car at John F. Kennedy International Airport, Mulder and Scully took the 45 minute drive to his mother’s new apartment in Greenwich, Connecticut. They’d arrived to find police officers still at the apartment. The coroner had already removed Teena Mulder’s body. Scully watched as Mulder spoke with the coroners, hanging back to give him space and privacy, noticing the tape along the edges of the door. He hadn’t said much of anything the entire flight or the drive to Greenwich. Her stomach was knotted with worry. Scully saw one of the men hand him an empty prescription bottle, and then Mulder left the kitchen.

Scully turned to follow him, and walked through the apartment to his mother’s bedroom. “Mulder?”

“In here,” Mulder said, walking out of his mother’s en suite bathroom.

“What is it?” she asked, noticing the prescription bottles in his hand.

“Diazepam. She used them to sleep.”

Scully wondered if he’d found anything else in the house. “Was there a note?”

“No,” Mulder replied, sighing. “She called when I was in California. She wanted to talk, but, uh, I never called her back.”

“Oh, Mulder…” Scully knew the sorrow and the guilt he was feeling over this.

“Uh... why would she do this?” Mulder asked, confused. “It just doesn't make any sense.”

Scully watched him wander over to his mother’s dresser. “We never truly know why.”

“No. She wouldn't kill herself,” Mulder said confidently, before noticing the empty picture frames around the room. “Why are these pictures gone? There were photos here. There were photos of my sister and I. This is all that she had left of us and they're missing. Why...” Mulder sat on the bed, closing his eyes and sighing.

Scully didn’t know what to say, and sat on the bed behind him. She wished there was something she could do, or say, to take away his grief.

“She saw me on the news,” Mulder told her. “She wanted to talk about the missing girl, Amber Lynn. She wanted to tell me something about her, or maybe she…,” Mulder turned to look at Scully pointedly. “Couldn't tell me over the phone because she was afraid that they would do something like this to her.”

‘They?’ What was he talking about? “Who?”

“Whoever took my sister,” Mulder rationalized. “Look at this place. I mean, it's like, it’s… it's all staged. The pills, the oven, the tape. It's like a bad movie script.” Mulder stood up from the bed and Scully watched him go from shocked incredulity and confusion to suspicion. One minute he was in denial, and the next he was grasping at straws to try to make some sense of it. But what he was saying made no sense to her. She thought Mulder believed aliens took Samantha. Scully couldn’t wrap her brain around the idea of a conspiracy being behind Mrs. Mulder’s death.

“They would have come here and they would have threatened her. She would be upset. They would have to sedate her. I would look for a, uh... a needle puncture mark or something else in her system besides these pills.”

 _Oh, God, no_. “No, Mulder,” Scully pleaded with him, rising from the bed. “Please don't ask me to do this.”

“Scully, who else can I ask?”

She could see him getting emotional, but there was no way she could do it. “An autopsy, Mulder? I mean, it's one thing on a stranger but you're my friend, and she's your mother.”

“I know, but if you don't do it, I might never know the truth,” he replied forcefully.

Mulder and Scully stared at each other, each silently pleading their case, and then Scully sighed, knowing she could never refuse him. She thought about trying to insert logic into his suspicions, remind him that the men who had been involved with Samantha’s abduction were dead and gone, their conspiracy along with them. She wanted to reason with him so that he would see that there was no way his mother could’ve known details about the LaPierres, that what happened to Amber Lynn was not at all like what had happened to Samantha. But she knew that Mulder was not open to such a discussion right now. Mulder needed facts, he needed her science.

*****

After Scully requested the coroners to transfer Mrs. Mulder’s body to the Chief Medical Examiner’s Office, and arranged to perform the autopsy after speaking with CME Dr. Stephen Gill, she drove Mulder back to the JFK airport at his request. The sun had set by now and it was growing dark. Scully assumed that he was flying to D.C. and going back home, but she stared after him in shock and frustration when he mentioned something about returning to Idaho. Scully couldn’t believe it. Mulder needed to grieve. He needed time. What the hell was he doing still pursuing the Amber Lynn case? What could he possibly hope to do or to find by visiting Kathy Lee Tencate again?

The following afternoon, on Tuesday, February 8th, Scully arrived at the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner in Farmington, Connecticut, her stomach full of knots. After turning the car off, she sat in the driver’s seat, unable to exit the car. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t. Scully grabbed her cell phone and pressed speed dial 1.

“Mulder.”

“Mulder, please don’t make me do this.”

He sighed. “Scully, I will doubt for the rest of my life unless you’re the one who does it.”

She knew he was right. He would. This would be just one more unanswered mystery that would eat away at him for the rest of his days, wondering what had truly happened and if there was something he could’ve done to prevent it.

“All right, Mulder,” Scully sighed, and then pressed the end button, before getting out of the rental car.

Once inside the Chief Medical Examiner’s Office building, Scully changed into scrubs and walked over to the sink and its deep steel basin. She turned on the hot water and began to sterilize her hands and forearms methodically, scrubbing until her skin was red. After drying her hands, she pulled two latex gloves from a nearby box and donned her hands.

Scully was trying to tell herself that this autopsy would be like any other. Yes, she was Mulder’s mother, but Mrs. Mulder was really a stranger to her. Scully couldn’t say that she actually knew Teena Mulder very much at all. She’d only met the woman a few times, and hadn’t seen her in years. Even Mulder didn’t know his mother all that well anymore, to be honest.

But maybe that made this all the more painful for him, one last painful event to cap off a lifetime of anguish brought about by the actions of his own parents. Scully would never forget having to walk into Skinner’s office and be the one to tell Mulder this awful news. Teena Mulder was the only family he had left, and she selfishly abandoned him. Scully suspected that Mulder didn’t want to believe this of her, that her life would’ve had to been forcibly taken, just like his father’s.

She knew that Mulder had held out the hope that one day his mother would be ready to talk, ready to tell him the truth about the events surrounding Samantha’s abduction, maybe also even the truth of his and Samantha’s parentage. Instead, his mother ended her own life without leaving behind a letter, a note, some kind of communication for her son. What kind of mother would do such a thing? She left him with yet another mystery he thought he had to solve.

Regardless of whatever problems Scully guessed the woman had in her marriage, as evidenced by her apparent infidelity, at one time Teena Mulder had been a good mother, a loving mother. Bill Mulder had been a good father, an attentive and affectionate father. Mulder’s childhood had been a happy one until November 27, 1973. Unfortunately, this terrible experience and the miserable years since then completely overshadowed the happier times he’d experienced beforehand. Mulder barely remembered the happier days; thoughts of his childhood were only painful.

In the debilitating grief over the loss of her daughter, Teena Mulder closed herself off to her son. There were no more hugs, kisses, ‘I love yous.’ Mulder, being only a 12 year old child, still needed parenting, still needed affection and attention from his parents, and this was rarely given in the years since Samantha's abduction. Yet again, Scully couldn’t help but feel amazed at the extraordinary man Mulder had turned out to be coming from the circumstances surrounding his upbringing. She thought of the 12 year old Mulder, and her heart broke for him. Something maternal deep inside Scully ached for him, wishing he’d had a mother's unconditional love and care, something that he'd deserved. Scully felt tears begin to prick her eyes, and she hastily blinked them back.

Scully approached the cooler and unlocked the door with shaking hands, reaching into the dark chamber and pulling out the metal bed holding a black cadaver bag. She transferred the bag onto an exam table and positioned it directly underneath the bright overhead lights in the middle of the room. Scully then made sure she had everything she needed on the table next to her, scalpels and other sterile surgical tools, calibrated scale, and tape recorder.

She brought her shaking hands to the zipper and pulled it down the length of the bag, exposing the deceased and naked body of Mulder’s mother to the harsh florescent lighting of the autopsy bay. Feelings of protectiveness and possessiveness once again began taking hold as Scully stared down into the pallid face of Teena Mulder, anger and hatred beginning to churn in the pit of her stomach.

*****

After a Tuesday morning visit to South Boise Women’s Correctional Facility, where he spoke to Kathy Lee Tencate about his sister’s abduction and heard her theory that his mother must have seen walk-ins, old souls who had taken children to spare them horrible suffering, Mulder drove to the Boise airport and purchased a ticket for the 12:05 pm flight back to D.C. Mulder wasn’t a stranger to the new age walk-in ideology, thinking back to that case he’d worked with Scully out in Wisconsin and Richard Odin’s Church of the Red Museum. But he thought that Kathy Lee’s talk of these souls living in the starlight might be too crazy for even him to believe. Mulder had no idea where to go from here. The chances of finding Amber Lynn LaPierre were slim, and he felt that he was no closer to solving this case than he’d been at the beginning.

Mulder arrived at Denver International Airport at 2:00 and waited out the layover, and then his flight to D.C. departed at 3:30 pm. Random memories of his mother kept coming forward in his mind during his travel home, conversations he’d had with her over the years that he was suddenly remembering…

When Mulder had returned home from Oxford in 1986, he’d spent that Sunday, June 15th, with his mother in Greenwich after he’d arrived in New York City at 2:25 pm following an eight hour flight from London. He would be driving down to Quantico early the following morning, as the FBI Academy would be commencing on Monday at 10:00 am. Mulder had yet to tell his mother about joining the FBI, and after sitting with her in her kitchen drinking coffee, it became clear to him that this was the furthest thing from her mind when she thought of his future. His mother had assumed that he would go into a PhD program, become a licensed clinical psychologist, and start practicing. Her face had a look of shock and horror when he’d told her that he’d been accepted to the FBI Academy. She made biting comments about his going to work for the government like his father had, about how she couldn’t think of any good reason why the FBI would interest him. The next morning, Mulder had packed up his car by 4:00 am and was about to start the five hour drive to Quantico, Virginia, when his mother walked out of the house to say goodbye. He could tell she’d been crying, and when he looked at her she didn’t seem angry anymore. She looked sad, and defeated. Mulder guessed that his mother had discerned his reason for joining the FBI: to find his sister.

“Good luck” she said when they parted, with obvious pain behind her eyes.

Mulder had only nodded, knowing his mother would never want to talk about Samantha.

On May 12, 1997 Mulder had awoken in the hospital in Providence, Rhode Island to see a sleeping Scully seated in a chair at his bedside. His crazed, drug-induced state had subsided. Every time he woke up over the next few days, Scully was there. He’d ditched her again, engaged in extremely dangerous behavior, and even pointed his gun at her. But she was there, steadfast and unmovable. His mother was not; had not come to visit. Mulder learned from Scully that she’d told his mother about his condition, but his mother didn’t want to come to Rhode Island. Scully had even offered to drive to Connecticut to pick her up and take her to see him, but she refused the offer. When Mulder was discharged, he got in the car with Scully and told her to drive to his mother’s house in Greenwich. He needed to apologize. Their last conversation had probably been the worst one ever. She’d certainly never hit him before. But then again he’d never accused her of adultery before. There were so many things he didn’t know. He had just wanted to know the truth. Why was that so hard for her to understand? Why wouldn’t she tell him? Was it just because she didn’t want to deal with it? Was she afraid? Would he ever know? After Mulder had made his apologies, he was surprised that his mother invited him and Scully to stay for lunch before they left for the airport in New York. Throughout the lunch, Mulder had thought the atmosphere was awkward and was thankful that Scully was there with him. Later, while Scully was getting into the car, he stood at the front door saying goodbye to his mother, and then she gave him a strange look.

“Fox, what’s going on between you and your partner?” his mother had asked him.

“What do you mean?” Mulder hadn’t known what she was getting at.

“Does she always let you touch her like that?”

Mulder knitted his brows in confusion. “Like what?”

His mother just shook her head at him in disbelief. “You’re always touching her, Fox. Whether it’s on her arm or her back or her hands, even her hair. She can’t move from one part of the room to another without your eyes following her. Doesn’t the FBI frown on this sort of thing between partners?”

He stared at her. “Mom, we are just partners. We’re just friends. There’s nothing going on.”

“Hmm.”

“Well, goodbye, Mom.” Mulder sighed, and turned to walk towards the car. Did he always touch Scully? Why wasn’t this something he was conscious of? Was it her cancer? Was he trying to assure himself that she was okay or maybe reaching out for extra physical contact due to his subconscious fears?

“Fox.”

He turned around and his mother gave him a pointed look.

“Don’t break your own heart.”

Mulder had no idea what to say to this. All he could think of was Scully’s cancer. His heart would surely break if no cure was found. He didn’t want to think about it, about what her death would mean for him. It was too terrible to think about. He physically ached whenever he thought about it. Mulder had never told his mother about Scully’s cancer, so how would she know that his heart could break over it? His mother had obviously thought there was more to their partnership than professionalism and friendship, but then again, lots of people at the FBI did too.

…Mulder wasn’t sure why these memories were suddenly springing forward in his mind. It was strange what loss will make you remember, make you think about. He sat there on the plane thinking about what his mother had said to him concerning Scully and breaking his own heart. He still wasn’t sure what she had meant by this. What was she trying to tell him? His mother obviously saw something he hadn’t realized at the time: his feelings for Scully. She also must’ve thought Scully didn’t feel the same way for him. Well, maybe she didn’t at that time. He didn’t know. Mulder couldn’t pin down a single moment, a conversation or event, when things between them were no longer strictly professional, strictly friendly. Or did his mother think he would fuck things up between himself and Scully in some way? Actually, it was possible that his mom would’ve assumed that a likely scenario. She knew what he was, knew how he was; closed down and emotionally unavailable, obsessive and selfish. How strange it was that his mom would pick that moment to suddenly give him some ‘motherly advice’ when she’d rarely ever cared to in the entire decade before those events.

*****

Mulder’s flight landed three hours after departing Denver at Washington Dulles International Airport at 8:35 pm local time, and he got into a taxi heading back home to his apartment in Alexandria, Virginia. As he walked into his apartment at 9:20 pm and made his way to his bedroom, Mulder saw the red light flashing on his answering machine in his living room. He started to guess who the message might be from. Everyone involved with the Amber Lynn case used his cell phone to get ahold of him. Mulder assumed that message was not one that would help him with the case, and it would probably only serve as a distraction. Maybe it was the Lone Gunmen. Maybe it was Scully, demanding to know where the hell he was because he’d ran off without her yet again. Maybe it was Skinner ripping him a new one. He didn’t want to listen to it, whatever the message was. If it was important enough, people knew how to get ahold of him without having to rely on his answering machine.

After setting his duffel bag down in the bedroom, he went back out to the living room and stood in front of his desk, staring at the answering machine. He immediately thought the message might be some impersonal, polite voice telling him that something had happened to his mother, asking him to call them right away, asking him to tell them what to do, asking him to come to Connecticut. They apparently hadn’t been content with leaving a message, and so they’d tracked him down at work, forcing Scully to be the one to tell him.

Where was Scully now? He didn’t know. She was the only person he had left in the world, and he had no idea where she was. He also didn’t think he would see her that night, and he wasn’t exactly sure when he would. He’d asked her to do something she didn’t want to do, something that she’d obviously found abhorrent. Maybe the message was from her, telling him how disgusted she felt at having to do it. But she’d done it anyways. He hadn’t heard from her since that morning, but he knew she had done it. She always did whatever he asked of her, regardless of how much this inconvenienced her or how much she hated it. She did it for him. And she was probably still angry with him, not only over everything that had occurred since Saturday but now for forcing her to do something she’d found revolting. Mulder didn’t think it was likely that he’d see her anytime soon. But hopefully she'd call him. Maybe he’d drive over to her apartment in the morning before she left for work. If he showed up at the office, she’d just get angrier and berate him for not taking any bereavement time away from work.

Mulder momentarily thought about erasing the message, but that would go completely against his nature. He had to know what the message said, even if it was something he didn’t necessarily want to hear, because there was always something to learn, a truth to discover. Maybe it was the police or the coroner, with some new development, some clue that would lead him to the people responsible for his mother’s death. Or maybe it was Scully calling with her autopsy findings. Mulder pushed the play button.

“Fox, it's your mother.”

He quickly hit the stop button. A voice was reaching out to him from beyond the grave, a voice he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear again. Mulder still hadn’t cried over his mother’s death. He’d been too consumed with searching for the truth, finding the answers, the connections between his sister’s abduction, what happened to Kathy Lee Tencate’s son, and Amber Lynn LaPierre, and had forced himself not to think about the fact his mother was dead. He wouldn’t have anything to go on until he’d spoken to Scully, anyways, but something had also prevented him from calling her. As much as he wanted to know, maybe he was also afraid to find out.

It had never crossed his mind that the message could be from his mother. His mother had tried to get ahold of him. She had called his cell phone. She tried to talk to him and he never called her back. But that wasn’t unusual in and of itself. She often called him, left messages, and he would never call her back. Why would he? What did they have to say to each other, really? He didn’t want to hear more lies, or face more of her denial and avoidance when all he wanted was the answers. The truth was something she hadn’t felt compelled to share with him.

Mulder realized that he should’ve listened to this message long before now. Maybe he should’ve listened to it instead of everything else he’d been doing over the past couple days. His mother had called him when he was in Sacramento, but he’d brushed her off. He’d been grateful for the phone call to cut off Scully’s interrogation of his actions, but then he got rid of his mom as quickly as he could.

He’d avoided her as much as possible since he came home from the hospital last summer. He’d only seen her twice since June, and he’d never called her. She’d left occasional messages for him over the past several months, but he would never call her back. He didn’t want to talk to her. He hadn’t talked to her since September when he’d helped her with her move into the apartment, although Mulder had merely thought this a very convenient excuse to get away from Stephanie Speno and her prosecuting team. Mulder knew what she had done. He saw the blacked out security tapes from the hospital. She’d handed him over to the Smoking Man. Mulder wondered what he’d told his mother for her to allow that to happen. All he knew was that she hadn’t come to the hospital when Scully had told her of his condition, had told her what had happened to him in that DoD medical facility. The conversations he’d had with his mother since then, during the two visits to Greenwich he’d made in the last seven months, had been tense and uncomfortable.

And then Mulder never called her back when he’d returned home from California. He tried not to feel guilty about that. His mother had had decades to tell him the truth, and it wasn’t his fault that for the past few days he’d been busy with a case where a young girl’s life was at stake. But he knew that a part of him would always regret not being around, not calling his mother back when she’d asked him to, and he’d always wonder if his mother had finally been ready to tell him the truth. Mulder sat down in the desk chair, trying to control his emotions, trying to keep it together, and pressed the play button again, determined to listen to something he should’ve heard much sooner.

*****

It was 4:05 pm on Tuesday afternoon, and Scully had finished the autopsy on Mrs. Mulder. It had taken approximately two hours to complete. She was standing over the table along the wall of the autopsy bay and looking at a file of Teena Mulder’s medical records that had been faxed from her doctors in Greenwich, including records from a Dr. Joshua Borowitz, a specialist in bone disorders. Scully read over the file, confirming what she’d found in the autopsy. Teena Mulder’s bones had grown more blood vessels than normal, forcing the heart to work harder. She’d been suffering from some heart problems as well as chronic physical pain evidenced by the swelling and fractures in her bones. Dr. Borowitz had diagnosed her with Paget’s disease, a chronic skeletal condition that slowly progresses towards the rapid destruction and reformation of the bones. The disease also came with the growth of cancerous bone tumors. There was no cure or treatment for Paget’s disease. It would have taken years for Mrs. Mulder to die, long and extremely painful years.

Scully sat down in the chair at the desk, rubbing her hand across her tired eyes. The truth was obvious. She had found that this was not a murder. There was no conspiracy. Mulder’s mother had committed suicide. As Scully changed out of her blood-stained scrubs and into her black pantsuit and blue button-down blouse, anger and hatred flooded her stomach. Scully wondered if Mulder had learned his “Trust no one” mantra from his life experiences with his own mother. She’d certainly worked hard to destroy any trust he’d ever had in her. A memory from over the summer suddenly came back to her…

It was late on Wednesday afternoon, June 30th, and Scully was supposed to take Mulder to see his mother, but when she’d arrived at his apartment to pick him up he told he that he’d changed his mind. Scully had walked into his living room to see him obsessively watching and re-watching the security tapes from Georgetown Memorial Hospital. She turned to see the image of his mother talking to the Smoking Man, mostly hidden from the black spray paint that covered the screen, and sat down on the couch next to her partner.

“This tape isn’t going to give you the answers, Mulder.”

He sighed. “I thought I could see her, but I can’t. What in the world would I even say to her? ‘Hey Mom, do you mind telling me why you sold me to the devil?’”

“Mulder, you have the right to ask her. You have the right to know why she did it. She was obviously forced into it. The Smoking Man must’ve coerced her, threatened her somehow.”

He stared at the television screen. “I’m not so sure about that, Scully. She doesn’t look threatened, or afraid. She’s complicit. She handed me over to him, just like she did Samantha.”

Mulder shut the television off and threw the remote down on the coffee table, causing Scully to flinch. “Mulder, you don’t know what happened. You don’t have all the facts of her abduction. You can’t say for sure what choices were made, or how. And you’ll never know unless you confront your mother.”

He sighed, hanging his bandaged head. “She’ll never tell me anything, Scully. She’d rather take the truth to the grave than tell me.”

Scully reached her hand out to caress his arm, running her hand down to grasp his. “You don’t know that, Mulder.”

He squeezed her hand, but he didn’t reply.

…Scully walked out of the Chief Medical Examiner’s Office at 4:30 pm, and got into her rental car. She got on the phone and purchased a plane ticket for a nonstop flight leaving New York at 7:50 pm and getting into D.C. at 9:05 pm, and then took the two hour drive to JFK airport.

Why hadn’t Mrs. Mulder told her son that she was sick and dying? Why hadn’t she at least left him a letter explaining why she’d ended her life? Why couldn’t this woman have provided one simple answer for Mulder, after she’d withheld so many answers from him over the years? Why should he be forced to search and search, to suffer, when Teena Mulder could’ve just explained things to him?

Once Scully landed at Washington Dulles International Airport, she exited the airport and found her car in the parking lot, getting inside. She needed to see Mulder. She knew he’d be at home. She didn’t know how she knew that. He could be in Idaho still talking to Kathy Lee Tencate, for all anyone knew. Or maybe he’d gone off to Sacramento again. But she didn’t think so. She couldn’t see him going off without her again, at least without telling her where he was going. After glancing at the clock on the dashboard, noticing the time was 9:20 pm, Scully turned her key in the ignition and started on the 35 minute drive to Alexandria.

*****

Scully stood frozen outside Mulder’s apartment, staring at the door. She would be giving him more painful news. She felt the tears once again pricking her eyes, threatening to well up, and she fought them back. Scully couldn’t think of any possible good that could come from all this. This news wouldn’t give Mulder any peace; it wouldn’t lay his doubts and fears to rest. It would only cause him more heartache and pain, knowing the last person who truly knew what had happened to his family all those years ago was gone and could never tell him what she knew. Scully felt the anger rising again, but checked herself and pushed those feelings away for Mulder’s sake.

Scully braced herself and knocked. Mulder got up from his desk and opened the door. He hadn’t expected to see Scully, but he wasn’t really surprised she was there either.

“I'm glad you're here,” Mulder said, before turning and walking away from the door towards the living room, sitting back down at his desk and rewinding his answering machine tape. “My mother was trying to tell me something. I think I figured it out.”

He’d played the message over and over again. There had to be something there. She had reached out to him, wanted to talk. It had to be about Samantha, knowing that he was working the Amber Lynn LaPierre case.

“It's something about my sister that she was never able to tell me.” Mulder looked up at Scully as she walked through the opening to his living room, pressed the play button, and his mother’s voice filled the living room.

“So much that I've left unsaid for reasons I hope one day you'll understand.”

“She knew what I'd find with this case out in California."

It made no sense to her that Teena Mulder knew any of the details about the LaPierres. “How could she know that, Mulder?”

Mulder thought it was obvious. “A child disappearing without a trace, without evidence, in defiance of all logical explanation? She knew because of what's driven me, what I've always believed.”

She could see that he was still grasping at straws, refusing to believe his mother could end her own life. She started walking towards him. “Mulder...”

“Scully, these parents who've lost...,” began Mulder, before swallowing painfully as Scully sat down in the chair opposite him. “Who've lost their children, they've had visions of their sons and daughters in scenarios that never happened, but which they describe in notes that came through them as automatic writing and words that came through them psychically… from old souls protecting the children. My mother must have written a note like that herself, describing the scenario of my sister's disappearance, of her abduction by aliens.”

She could hear the denial, knew that Mulder hadn’t prepared himself for the facts, for what she was about to tell him. Her stomach knotted even more. She knew the pain and sorrow the truth would cause him.

“Don't you see, Scully? It never happened. All these visions that I've had have just been... they've been to help me cope, to help me deal with the loss, but... I've been looking for my sister in the wrong place. That's... what my mother was trying to tell me. That's what she was trying to warn me about. That's why they killed her.”

It was worse than she’d thought. This made absolutely no sense whatsoever and it was shocking to Scully that Mulder actually seemed to believe the words coming out of his mouth. Why couldn’t he hear himself? Hear how preposterous this was? He was so desperate to find some kind of meaning to his mother’s death and some connection to his sister, to Amber Lynn, to these other dead children, that he was sitting here throwing away his beliefs. As much as Scully had never believed in the past that Samantha had been abducted by aliens, she’d also seen enough over the years to now consider this one of the most plausible theories. And if it hadn’t actually been aliens, then Samantha was most definitely taken by those men working with the aliens, the Consortium that Mulder had fought so hard to expose. And now he was willing to just throw this all away. He deserved to hold onto the truths he had learned, risked his life for, and hers. He deserved the truth from her. She was going to give him the hard facts, wasn’t going to sugarcoat anything. Mulder had to be set straight and the sooner the better.

“Your mother killed herself, Mulder,” Scully said quietly, fighting hard to check her emotions but failing, feeling the tears start to well up. “I conducted the autopsy. She was dying of an incurable disease, an untreatable and horribly disfiguring disease called Paget's Carcinoma. She knew it. There were doctors’ records. She didn't wanna live.”

Mulder stared at her. His mother was sick? She was dying? She’d never told him that. He closed his eyes, putting his face in his hands. Why wouldn’t she have told him she was dying? Why? It didn’t make sense. She wouldn’t have just killed herself without telling him. It wasn’t possible, but that’s what Scully said. He pounded his fist on the desk, and stood up, shaking the desk violently. Anger flooded his stomach, and something inside clutched at him, pain he could no longer push away.

Scully jumped up, raising her hands to his arms to calm him down, reassure him. “Mulder…”

But he pulled away from her in agony. “She was trying to tell me something.” But his belief that his mother would never have left him with nothing, no answers, no explanations, was starting to crumble, and Mulder dropped back down into the chair. His long-held hope that one day he'd learn the truth, possibly even find his sister, was collapsing.

“She was...,” his voice broke and the tears started to fall, as he pounded his fist onto his leg and choked out sobs. “Trying… to… tell me something.”

Scully couldn’t bear it. Tears filled her eyes, anger and hatred for Teena Mulder flaring up in the pit of her stomach as she knelt down beside Mulder’s chair. But she was going to lie. Scully believed that Teena Mulder hadn’t thought of her son at all when she’d taken her own life. If she had, she would’ve done things differently. She didn’t care about his search for his sister. She’d mentioned something about hoping that Mulder would one day understand her reasons for keeping the truth from him. What fucking reasons? They had to be known before they could even begin to be understood. Damn her. But if her death allowed Mulder to finally let go of his painful search and put the past behind him, then that would be the best thing that woman ever did for him. So Scully told a white lie.

“Mulder, she was trying to tell you to stop, to stop looking for your sister. She was just trying to take away your pain.”

Mulder desperately turned to her, tears streaming down his face, and Scully reached out for him. He sat up and leaned towards her, throwing his arms around her waist, holding her tight, and laying his head against her shoulder, curling into her embrace. Scully held him, putting her lips to his neck as she gently rocked him while his hands clutched at her back.

Scully was no longer able to hold back her own tears in the face of his anguish, her heart breaking for him, and she let them fall. Mulder could feel them on his neck and he held her tighter. After a couple minutes he stopped shaking with sobs, and his breathing began to even out. Scully thought he looked exhausted and wondered when was the last time he’d slept. Probably days ago. She’d noticed the pizza box on the coffee table when she’d walked into the room and was glad that he’d at least eaten something.

She could no longer keep her knees on the hardwood floor and rose up, taking Mulder with her.

“Let’s go to bed, Mulder,” she said with her arms around his waist.

He sniffled, bringing up his hand from her shoulder to wipe the tears away from his face. “No. Couch. I won’t sleep, anyways.”

Scully sighed, and helped him lay down. She then removed his shoes, placing them on the floor, and laid the black and brown wool blanket over him that she'd grabbed from the back of the couch. Mulder turned to his side as Scully removed her shoes and sat on the floor next to him, looking at her. She was all he had left in the world. There was no one else. What if she left him, too? What if she was taken from him? He’d be all alone.

As he looked at her, fresh tears filled his eyes and brimmed over. Scully would have done anything, said anything, to take away his pain, this pain he'd been suffering from since he was 12 years old. He had no sister, no father, and now no mother. But he had her, and she loved him. Scully brought her hand up to caress his face, gently stroking his cheek and his forehead. She never removed her hand from his face until his cries lessened, his breathing became slow and steady, his eyelids became heavy, and he fell asleep.

Scully, feeling physically and emotionally exhausted, then walked quietly into Mulder’s bedroom, making sure to leave the door open. She removed her black dress pants, suit jacket, blue button down blouse, and her white lace bra, folded them neatly and placed them on top of Mulder’s dresser. After taking a long black t-shirt from one of his drawers and pulling it over her head, breathing in his scent, she climbed into her side of the bed and laid down, eventually succumbing to sleep.

*****

_Samantha was there, still just eight years old, smiling and laughing. But then everything went dark and she started screaming when a blinding light entered the room. His parents were there, and he was shouting at them for help, but they were frozen. Suddenly he heard gunshots, and he was running down a hallway. He was looking for something, but he didn’t know what. He opened a door to see the dead body of his father, covered in blood. Mulder screamed for help, but no sound would come out. He picked up a phone to call 911 but it didn’t work, it was broken. Then Mulder was running again, looking for his mother but she was nowhere to be found. He opened a door and there was Scully. He’d never felt such relief in all his life. He grabbed hold of her, holding her tightly to his chest. They then began to walk together, hand in hand. But then everything went dark again. A lighter clicked and a fiery blaze flashed, a cigarette was lit. Scully’s hand was suddenly slipping from his. He reached for her, but his feet were frozen. She was screaming for help, but he couldn’t move._

Mulder jerked awake. Where was Scully? Was she gone? He sat up on the couch, feeling panicked. He got up and stepped onto one of her shoes. She must still be here. He walked into the bedroom and found her asleep on his bed, and felt tears well up in his eyes once again. He removed his jeans and gray t-shirt, setting them on the floor, and got into the bed next to Scully. He stared at her back, the panic he’d felt upon waking up returning. He can’t lose her. She was the one person who’d never lied to him, never betrayed him, the one person who'd truly loved him. But everyone he ever cared about gets taken away from him. What would he do without her? He’d die. Misery was starting to swallow him up, the pain and anguish too much to bear. Mulder needed it to go away.

“Scully…” Mulder pleaded, his voice raspy with emotion, and reached for her.

She heard him, felt his hands clutching the t-shirt at her back. She blinked herself awake, and turned around to face him. “Mulder? What is it? Are you all right?”

Scully’s eyes widened in surprise as suddenly Mulder’s mouth was on hers, desperate and hungry. He grabbed her and pulled her towards him, before pushing her over onto her back and laying down on top of her. Scully felt herself in a state of shock, and didn’t think this was something they should be doing right now. How could Mulder possibly be in the mood for this? She knew she wasn’t. But then his mouth was on her neck, gliding his tongue over her skin, and she moaned despite herself.

She felt his body pressed into hers, felt his erection bulging through his boxer briefs against her pelvis. Mulder’s mouth remained at her neck, kissing and licking. He used his knee to spread her legs wider apart, and settled between them, his erection pressing into her center. Heat began to pool in the pit of her stomach, her muscles tightening, and wet desire flowed out from her entrance. Her hands were in Mulder’s hair, and she kissed his forehead as his mouth made its way to her jawline.

His hands moved to Scully’s pelvis, lifting the hem of the t-shirt, and her thighs, caressing her skin, before hooking his thumbs into the waist of her panties and roughly pulling them down her hips as he sat up, before sliding them completely off and throwing them to the floor. Mulder then returned to his former position between her legs, his mouth once again at her neck and his erection grinding against her hot center.

Mulder reached down, pulling his hard cock free of his boxers. Scully wanted him to kiss her, touch her breasts, suck her nipples into his mouth, feel his fingers and his mouth on her cunt, but she realized this would not be happening. Mulder grasped the thick base of his engorged cock, positioned himself at her entrance and slid uneasily inside.

Scully gasped, feeling pain mingling with pleasure, as her muscles contracted around him, working to accommodate his size. Mulder buried his face in her neck, his forearms on the mattress holding up most of his weight. He then began to thrust at a fast pace, and hard, harder than she could really take without their usual foreplay.

But she didn’t stop him, or make any movements or sounds to dissuade him from continuing. She wrapped her arms and legs around him tighter, knowing he needed this. Scully had realized that this was not sex for love, nor was it for the sake of pleasure and getting off. It was sex for grief, to momentarily relieve the unbearable pain storming in Mulder’s heart and mind. Scully then remembered she had read something one time about a lot of children being conceived after funerals. She supposed that was true.

Soon Mulder was thrusting harder, and the pain became overwhelming. She knew she’d be sore for a while as his pelvic bone slammed into her with each forceful thrust. Scully then felt Mulder’s arms slide underneath her, his hands moving up to sink into her hair, and keeping his face buried in her neck, an anguished cry escaped his throat as she felt his cock spasm, his hot seed releasing inside her.

Immediately Mulder began sobbing into her shoulder. He started to move away from her, to pull his softening erection from her cunt, but she held onto him even tighter, moving her feet to his ass and pressing him against her, keeping them joined. “Mulder, it’s okay. Everything will be okay.”

“Don’t ever leave me,” sobbed Mulder.

Scully closed her eyes, sighing. She wondered if this was just from the overwrought emotions of the day, or if Mulder was truly afraid of losing her, if this was a fear he always carried around with him. Maybe it was. So many people had left him, either by their deaths or their betrayals. She gently stroked his hair, his back. He’d never said the words, of course, but she knew that Mulder loved her. She wanted to say the words. She wanted to tell him that she loved him; that she’d never leave him. But she couldn’t, something held her back, preventing her from speaking these words.

For the rest of the night, Mulder slept on and off. He kept waking up, and then the events of the past few days would come back to him, and he’d cry again. Scully didn’t sleep much at all. She held Mulder close when he cried, whispering words of reassurance, hoping he’d believe that everything would be all right.


	59. "No one there dared speak aloud, as much in shame as in sorrow."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after. Mulder and Scully then head to California with Skinner, where they make a horrific discovery. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise from the episode "Sein Und Zeit" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz, and belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulsavers – "Point Sur Pt 1"

At just past 6:00 am on Wednesday, February 9th, the sky began to lighten as the darkness faded. Scully was still asleep on her side, facing Mulder, his eyes slowly opening to look at her. He reached out his hand, caressing the side of her face. It had been unfair of him to ask her to do the autopsy on his mother, he knew it. Scully had known all along that the autopsy wouldn’t give him a different answer than the one the police had, and maybe she’d suspected that he’d slightly resent her for it. Did he? No, he didn’t think so.

But did Scully truly believe that his mother reached out to him before she killed herself just so he’d stop looking for Samantha? To compel him to stop chasing after every missing little girl who is abducted from her home? To take away the tremendous burden of guilt he’d been carrying around with him for over 26 years? Just to make him stop? Stop the search, the suffering, the suspicion? To take away his pain?

Mulder didn’t believe that for a second. His mother didn’t give a damn. Not really. He also thought Scully knew that his mother didn’t really give a damn. It wasn’t his mother who wanted the pain to end, who wanted him to stop looking for his sister. It was Scully. Scully wanted him to stop. She’d probably wanted it a long time. She knew he was a selfish bastard, that he was no good and his obsession would only take her down along with him, that she was wasting her life away by staying with him on this quest. Yet, she stayed with him anyways and allowed him his selfishness, his illusions.

He wanted to stop, he wanted this to end. Mulder was tired. How long was it going to take to find an answer? Why hadn’t those who had known the truth, including his own parents, just spoke to him plainly? Instead of cryptic messages and double speak? But could he stop without ever knowing? Maybe he was waiting for a sign. Scully seemed to think his mother’s suicide a good enough sign, but he didn’t see it that way.

“Mulder?” she whispered, her eyes opening and looking into his face. The expression she found there was not reassuring. “Are you gonna be okay?”

He sighed. Of course her first thoughts upon awakening were her unselfish concerns for his own welfare. “Maybe.”

Scully reached out for him but Mulder pulled away, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling. His grief had not been for his mother and her demise. It had been for his own disappointment and crushed hopes, his own failure to find his sister, or at least find out the truth of what had happened to her. His grief stemmed from the pain and anger over the fact his mother left this world without telling him anything, doing anything to help him.

“I think I stopped loving my mother a long time ago, Scully.”

She sighed. “Mulder, I know you love your mother.”

He shook his head. “But you don’t believe she deserves it.”

Silence filled the bedroom. She didn’t know what to say. Mulder had seen right through her. “I can’t think of anyone who would deserve your single-minded devotion,” Scully finally replied.

This, she firmly believed. Mulder’s kind of intense, unwavering devotion was unlike anything she’d ever witnessed. Who else would ever cleave to another human being for decades while getting absolutely nothing in return? He loved at the expense of himself. He was loyal to a fault, loyal even to those who didn’t truly deserve such abiding loyalty.

“You deserve it, Scully,” Mulder replied, eyes still fixed on the ceiling.

“No, Mulder. Not even me.” She thought back to the night before, and Mulder’s agonizing plea for her to never leave him. She’d wanted to promise him that she never would, but she couldn’t. She didn’t think she could ever return his kind of devotion.

As much as she had grieved for Mulder the night before, she realized she was also grieving for herself. While she laid awake through the night, something told her that she couldn’t love Mulder the way he needed her to. But if she forced him to change, to give up this quest and stop searching for his sister, what would happen to him? Would he still be the Mulder she loved? He’d most likely end up resenting her, and then he’d close down, shut her out, and she’d wish with all her heart for the old Mulder.

So she could never force him to stop looking for his sister, he would have to make that decision himself, and for his own sake. And so Mulder was doomed. He was doomed to spend his life searching, waiting, suffering. That was his fate. And it was also hers as long as she stayed with him. One day the waiting would be over and Mulder would learn the truth, the awful life-shattering truth, and the suffering would cause his foundation to crumble, his faith and beliefs. This terrible truth was not that Samantha had been taken by aliens or men, or that she was alive out there waiting for him, or even that she was dead. One day Mulder would realize that he missed out on life. That he’d sacrificed all his chances for love, joy, happiness, and peace of mind for this obsession. He was filled with passion and intensity, but not for the things that truly matter in life. He chased after little girls and missing women who were probably dead. He questioned God’s existence and yet blamed Him for everything evil in the world. Mulder didn’t have God and now he didn’t have family, there was no anchor keeping him rooted to the earth, except for her and sadly he didn’t realize just how much of a life with her he was missing out on by not giving up his search.

Her fear held her back, held her back from wholly loving him like she wanted to. She knew they could be happy, so very happy. If only Mulder would let go. But they were doomed as long as his obsession continued, and so she held back because one day this quest could very well cost him his life. Even if it didn't, one day Mulder would realize the life he could’ve had with her, and his heart will break, shatter into a million little pieces. Scully didn’t know when this would happen, when Mulder would learn this truth, but one day he would. Her only hope was that Mulder would either decide to let go, he would decide to finally live, or that he found some answers, some closure long before his heart shattered. But how long could she wait for that to happen? She was doomed as long as she waited with him, doomed to also sacrifice any chance she had for a real life filled with happiness. Could she truly promise that she’d never leave him? Obviously not, because she wasn’t able to bring herself to speak the words he’d needed to hear.

“There’s no one who deserves it more than you, Scully.”

She sighed. “What about your sister?”

He didn’t know how to reply. He knew Scully wanted him to stop searching for Samantha.

Scully sighed again. “Mulder, I have no right to tell you to stop. This is your life. It’s the only thing that matters to you. Didn’t you say that to me once? You have to make these decisions. No one can decide for you.”

Mulder wondered at her acumen. “I can’t stop looking for Samantha.”

“I know.”

He sighed. “I feel… lost. There’s got to be an answer, something out there. There’s got to be a sign, telling me the way I should go, what I should be doing with my life.”

“I wish there was something I could do to help you find her,” she said. “But if you’re going to go off and deny the events of her abduction by trying to desperately form connections between your sister and Amber Lynn LaPierre, the other abducted children, and your mother’s death, I can’t help you, Mulder. I can’t follow you down that road, at least not professionally. That has no basis in reality; there are zero facts to back that up.”

Mulder sighed. “I don’t know anymore, Scully.”

She got out of bed, wincing at the soreness in her pelvis and groin but careful to do so with her back to Mulder. Scully walked into the bathroom, emptied her bladder, and after using a washcloth and hot water to give herself somewhat of a sponge bath, she then opened Mulder’s bathroom cabinet. She took two Tylenol and two Ibuprofen from their bottles, grabbed a Dixie cup from the sink, and swallowed all four pills with one cup of water. After getting dressed, she walked out of the bedroom while Mulder still laid there, staring at the ceiling. She walked into the kitchen and thought about putting on a pot of coffee, but she didn't feel motivated enough. She then headed into the living room. As she started to clear off the coffee table, bending down to pick up the pizza box, there was a knock at the apartment door.

Scully slipped on her shoes and went to the door, opening it to see Skinner standing there. She inwardly groaned and kept her hand on the door, keeping him out.

“Hi,” Skinner said.

“Hi.”

Skinner attempted to look around her and into the apartment. “How's he doing?”

She resolutely kept her hand on the door, blocking Skinner. “It's been a hard night for him.”

Scully and Skinner stared at each other for a second, an unspoken battle of wills engaging. She was not about to let Skinner enter Mulder’s apartment, invade the deeply personal and private grief happening inside. That space solely belonged to her and Mulder, and no one else belonged there.

“Billie LaPierre is asking for him,” said Skinner after the pause. “She's got something to say and she'll only talk to Mulder.”

He can’t be serious. “It's not a good ti…”

Mulder approaching from behind interrupted her, and she glanced at him to see he’d pulled on the pair of jeans and gray t-shirt he’d worn the night before.

“What is it?” he asked. Was he about to get more bad news? Did he even have the energy to deal with this?

“This case has heated up,” Skinner replied. “I've booked two flights for us.”

Scully looked up at Mulder, hoping he’d refuse, but knowing he wouldn’t. Mulder nodded, glancing down at Scully, and then turned to walk away from the door.

She turned back to Skinner. She wasn’t about to let Mulder go out there alone. “Well, then you better book three.”

“I’ll, uh, wait down in the car,” Skinner replied, before walking away as Scully closed the door.

She walked into Mulder’s bedroom as he was grabbing his overnight bag from the closet and setting it on the bed. After gazing at him briefly, she walked into the bathroom and grabbed her toiletry bag from under the sink, pulling out her toothbrush and some toothpaste. Mulder then entered the bathroom and stood at the sink next to her, also grabbing his toothbrush and dispensing some minty paste onto the bristles. They stood there at the sink in silence, brushing their teeth. They had never performed this mundane morning routine together. Scully found herself fighting a grin.

Mulder spit out some paste and then looked at her in the mirror. “Skinner didn’t seem too shocked to find you here at seven o’clock in the morning.”

Scully thought about this as Mulder rinsed off his brush, before grabbing a paper cup off the sink and rinsing his mouth.

“I think the cat’s outta the bag, Agent Scully,” he quipped as he tossed the paper cup in the small garbage can next to the sink.

As she rinsed out her own mouth with water and stared at their reflections in the mirror, she asked herself if she particularly cared if Skinner knew, or anyone at the FBI for that matter, about her and Mulder. No, she didn’t. It didn’t seem like Mulder did either.

She turned to him and gave him a half smile, shrugging. Mulder bent down and kissed her softly. He then sighed after breaking the kiss. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Scully suspected he knew how she felt about him running off to see the LaPierres right now.

“Last night.” Mulder realized that in his haze of grief he'd been rough with her. He also knew she didn't get anything out of it at all.

She sighed, bringing her hand up to caress his bicep. “It’s okay, Mulder.”

He nodded, dropping his head to kiss her again, and then walked back out to the bedroom.

Skinner, Mulder, and Scully boarded the 8:25 am nonstop flight to Sacramento, California. Mulder had taken the window seat, with Scully seated between him and Skinner. It was mostly a quiet flight, the three of them not saying much of anything to each other. Ninety minutes into the six hour flight, Scully’s exhaustion took over and she leaned her head against Mulder’s shoulder, her arm snaking around his, and closed her eyes, drifting to sleep. He glanced down at her affectionately, bending his elbow to give her more of his arm to lean against, taking her hand and holding it in his. Mulder then looked up to see Skinner staring at their entwined fingers, before Skinner’s gaze went to Mulder’s face and they locked eyes. Mulder squeezed Scully’s hand tighter, and then he turned his head back to look out the window.

After landing in Sacramento at 11:32 am local time, they collected a rental car and drove to the LaPierres’ home. Skinner pulled up to the curb outside the house and parked the car. Mulder opened the car door and turned to get out of the back seat when he noticed Scully hadn’t moved.

“Scully?”

She turned her head to glance into the back seat. “What?”

“You ready?”

She felt surprised at this. “Mulder, I thought the LaPierres only wanted to talk to you. They don’t even know me.”

He sighed. “Scully, you're going with me. Come on.”

She unbuckled her seat belt and exited the car, walking towards the LaPierres’ front door with Mulder. He knocked and soon after Bud LaPierre opened the door, letting them inside. They followed him to the back of the house, to the master bedroom. Mulder remained behind the doorway opening as Bud entered the bedroom to wake his wife. She sat up, and beckoned Mulder to come in. Scully followed him apprehensively.

Mulder noticed the LaPierres turning to look at Scully, their expressions somewhat confused. “It's okay. She's here to help. What happened here, Billie?”

“I saw my daughter right in this room.”

Scully wondered what she meant by that.

“Standing right there,” Billie continued. “I swear to God, she was right over there in the pajamas her grandma gave her... saying something to me.”

Mulder now had little doubt that Amber Lynn was dead. “What was she saying?”

“I don't know. Her lips were moving but I couldn't hear. I thought... I thought she was saying ’74.’”

“Seventy four? The number 74? Does that mean anything to you?”

Mrs. LaPierre shook her head. Scully felt the pain and grief in that room was too much to handle, and walked out of the bedroom.

Mulder felt the situation was now hopeless. “Seventy four mean anything to you, Mr. LaPierre?”

He also shook his head.

Scully walked out of the house, and Skinner got out of the car. He walked towards her in the LaPierres’ driveway and she told him what Mrs. LaPierre had said. After Mulder said goodbye, he also left the house.

“Let's go home,” he said as he stepped off the porch and walked towards Scully and Skinner.

“Mulder, we just got here,” she replied.

“We're not gonna… find these people's daughter alive,” he said.

Scully found herself not wanting to give up on this. “How do you know that?”

“What we're hearing it's… the delusional talk of people that don't want to accept the truth,” Mulder said.

“You think they know what happened to their child?” Skinner asked.

He didn’t know. He couldn’t say for sure. He didn’t think so, but who knows? “Maybe, maybe not but you can't see a ghost and still hope to find her alive. Both things can't be true. And if this little girl's spirit really did appear to her mother then there's probably only one explanation.”

“You think their daughter's dead,” Skinner concluded.

Mulder nodded.

Scully didn’t think this really explained things. “Well, what about the handwritten note?”

Mulder felt tired, and sad. He wanted this to be over. “I don't know what that means. I don't know what is the truth and what isn't anymore. I'm way too close to this case to make any kind of sound judgment.” He then looked at Skinner. “In fact, I would like to ask for you to let me off this case, please, and I'd like to take some time off.”

He turned quickly around and walked back to the car, Scully and Skinner staring after him. As they traveled back towards Sacramento International Airport, silence filled the car, each lost in their own thoughts. Scully knew it was best for Mulder to walk away, and that he needed time to process everything he’d been through. But he sounded defeated, lost, and this bothered her deeply. Mulder wasn’t one to just give up on a case. She also admitted to herself that Mulder had been right. The LaPierres were innocent. That woman didn’t murder her daughter. Scully wondered if Amber Lynn would ever be found, if her parents would ever find closure. She glanced into the back seat at Mulder, but his face was a mask, hiding his emotions. She then looked out the window as they passed a sign for California State Route 74 and, remembering what Mrs. LaPierre had said, she quickly opened the glove compartment and grabbed the road map.

“What is it?” Skinner asked, glancing over at her.

Scully traced her finger along Route 74 and saw a legend for Santa’s North Pole Village. Her stomach clenched. “Santa Claus.”

“What?” Mulder replied, the first thing he’d said since they left the LaPierres’ house.

This had to be it. “Stop. Turn around.”

Skinner pulled a U-turn in the road and headed back the way they came. When they reached the sign for State Route 74, Scully directed him to turn onto it. She then handed the road map to Mulder and upon seeing the legend, his stomach went into knots.

*****

Mulder looked at the ground with growing horror, as he raised his head to look around him at the dispersed mounds of small graves. He turned back to look at his partner, as a sickening sensation grew in the pit of his stomach.

“Scully.”

She raised her head from where she’d been focused on reading Ed Truelove his Miranda rights, and looked at the death around them.

“Oh, my God,” Scully breathed.

Mulder and Scully stared at each other, their expressions showing nothing but horrific disbelief. He couldn’t look at her anymore and turned away. As his eyes returned to the mounds of dirt, he wondered if Samantha was inside one of them, if this was the connection, what his mother had been trying to tell him.

Skinner immediately got on the phone, and law enforcement was soon crawling all over the property. With a heavy heart, Mulder and Scully gave their statements to the Sacramento Police Department. Ed Truelove had been hauled away. Mulder and Skinner stood by in silence, watching as the forensic team arrived 30 minutes later, just before 2:00 pm. As Mulder looked around, he noticed that Scully was gone and realized he hadn’t seen her since they gave their statement to Detective Richard Kaplan.

Mulder went back inside the building that served as Santa’s workshop and looked around, back into the room with the television monitors and video tapes, now filled with police detectives, but couldn’t find Scully. He walked out through the front door and stood facing the parking lot, which had once been empty except for their rental car but now was full of marked and unmarked law enforcement vehicles. But Mulder’s eyes quickly zeroed in on their car and Scully sitting in the front passenger seat. Her elbow was propped up on the console and her left hand was covering her eyes, her head was bowed. Mulder saw she was crying, and his heart sank even more.

As he approached the car and stood by the passenger side door, Scully hadn’t uncovered her eyes or made any indication that she knew he was standing there. When Mulder looked down into the window he saw that Scully was holding a small picture, small enough to keep inside a wallet, tight in her right hand as it lay on her lap. The picture was of Emily. Mulder realized that he was intruding on something very private, and thought about walking away and letting Scully deal with this alone. But that was the old Mulder.

He crouched down and gently knocked the knuckle of his bent forefinger against the glass window. Scully dropped her hand abruptly from her tear-stained face and looked over at him. Mulder noticed that her other hand quickly moved the picture of Emily out of sight. They stared at each other through the glass, sorrow etched across their features. Mulder then placed his palm against the window, and Scully brought her hand up to press against the glass, her palm lining up with his outstretched hand. Mulder’s gaze lingered on her face for a few moments, before standing up and getting on his cell phone.

“Skinner.”

“Do you have the, uh, keys to the car, sir?”

“No, I gave them to Agent Scully about half an hour ago,” Skinner replied. “You’re not still going home, are you? I need you to interrogate Truelove.”

Mulder sighed and looked down at Scully’s grieved expression, hardening as she wiped the tears from her face. “No, we’re not going home. We’re gonna check into a motel. I’ll let you know once I figure out exactly where.”

“All right. And Mulder, I was serious about Truelove. I want you down there. He’s being held at the police department on Freeport Boulevard.”

Mulder hung up the phone and got into the driver’s seat of the rental car. “Are you okay, Scully?”

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she answered, her tone cold, not looking at him.

He sighed. He could see her survival instincts were kicking in, distancing her emotions from this case, protecting her from the pain and suffering calling out from the unmarked child-sized graves. Dana Scully had gone back into hiding. Logical and aloof Agent Scully sat in her place, fighting to keep her head above the water.

“Skinner wants me to go down to the police station and interview Truelove.”

Scully’s head snapped in his direction. “He can’t be serious. Didn’t you just tell him that you were too close to the case?”

“Someone’s gotta do it, Scully. I’m a good interrogator, what can I say?”

She arched her eyebrow at him, giving him a stern look. “Mulder, I want you to think long and hard about something. Do you want to be in the same room as Truelove? Do you honestly think that’s a good idea?”

He stared at her. If, indeed, Samantha’s body was in one of those graves, then Truelove was the man who had taken her life, and possibly her innocence before that. Mulder sighed. “No, I shouldn’t be the one to interview him.”

“I’ll do it,” Scully said firmly.

Mulder nodded. He then drove towards downtown Sacramento. Upon sighting the Red Carriage Motel, he stopped in and checked them into two adjoining rooms. He knew that Scully had been against adjoining rooms since this thing between them started, but fuck it. He needed her close to him. He thought she needed him close, too, even though she’d probably never admit it. Mulder was proven right when he told her of the adjoining rooms and she didn’t protest.

He then drove them to the Sacramento Police Department Headquarters on Freeport Boulevard. Scully made her way to the interview rooms while Mulder went to the Technical Services Room where the video tapes belonging to Ed Truelove would be painstakingly gone over.


	60. "I'm free."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clashing views send Mulder and Scully on separate investigations into his sister's abduction, leading them both to unexpected results. They then reunite in their search for Samantha. Finally, both Mulder and Scully find some closure.
> 
> The dialog and premise for the episode "Closure" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> Sidenote: A few chapters have made me cry while writing them. This was definitely one of them. It also was one of the most difficult to write, just with trying to get the correct tone and getting what sounded so good inside my head down on print in a way I was happy with. Sometimes things sound really good when you imagine them, but then it's hard for it to be just as good when you write it down. I'm also giving kudos to Chris Carter for how 1013 wrapped up the whole Samantha thing. At the time of the initial airing of the episode, I remember a lot of people on the message boards were angry over it. But I liked it, and thought it made the most sense in terms of Mulder's relationship with Scully. So, kudos to CC, because all he'll be getting from me is the stink eye once Season 8 starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulsavers - "La Ribera" & "Take Me Back Home"
> 
> The first time you gave me freedom  
> For the first time I felt free  
> As long as you were right with me here  
> There’s nothing else that I would need
> 
> You take me back there  
> Take me back home, please  
> No, I can’t go in there  
> Just take me back home, home  
> Is where I wanna be
> 
> I was a fool before I met you  
> Only fools find it hard to believe  
> You just might be my only savior  
> If you are, then come on, save me  
> If that’s true, come back and save me
> 
> You take me back there  
> Take me back home, please  
> No, I can’t go in there  
> Just take me back home, home  
> Is where I wanna be
> 
> With all my stumbling misses  
> And all your wonderful kisses  
> That’s where I want to be  
> That’s just me
> 
> You take me back there  
> Take me back home, please  
> No, I can’t go in there  
> Just take me back home, home  
> Is where I wanna be

Sixteen hours after Mulder and Scully had arrived at the police station, Scully was standing in a corner of the interview room which held Ed Truelove. It was just past 7:00 am on Thursday, February 10th. She’d spent hours in that room the day before, listening to every gory detail. When the clock struck 9:30 pm, she’d decided she’d had enough for the night. She was exhausted, had barely slept the night before, and had zero energy to remain in the interrogation. She drove the rental car to the Red Carriage Motel. Mulder had remained behind at the station, refusing to move from his spot in the Technical Services Room, and told her that he’d get a ride to the motel from one of the officers later.

Once she’d arrived at the motel, she set Mulder’s overnight bag down on his motel bed before walking back through the door to her room. Scully dressed for bed, but couldn’t sleep once she’d laid down. Not long after midnight, she heard Mulder moving around in the adjoining room, and she was finally able to fall asleep. At 4:30 am, she woke, showered, and dressed, before getting into the rental car with Mulder and taking the 10 minute drive back to the police station.

“I don’t care why you did it, Ed,” spoke Detective Kaplan as he walked around the table where Truelove sat. “Or what your mom and dad were like. I just wanna know if we got anymore of Santa’s little helpers buried out there.”

“No,” replied Truelove, refusing to look at the detective.

The interview room door opened and a police officer walked inside holding a file. “Agent Scully?”

She walked over to the officer, taking the file from him, before her attention went back to Detective Kaplan.

“No? No, what? No, you got more bodies or no, you don’t remember? And maybe you got some kids buried elsewhere. Which is it, Ed?”

“No,” Truelove replied. “There’s no more.”

Detective Kaplan then placed photographs of Amber Lynn LaPierre on the table in front of Truelove. “These are human beings. They’ve got parents who deserve to know the truth. I wanna know what happened, Ed.”

“I didn’t kill that little girl,” said Truelove, something Scully had heard him say countless times since she’d first entered that interview room the day before.

Detective Kaplan and Scully stared at each other for a moment before she left the room to head upstairs to talk to Mulder. The file she’d been handed contained the preliminary forensic reports for all 24 victims found on Ed Truelove’s property. As she read the file, Scully learned that none of them were Samantha. She honestly hadn’t expected to find her there, but she knew that’s what had kept Mulder in that Technical Services Room for hours, he’d been looking for her. Scully stood next to him in that room, and relayed this news to Mulder.

“You don't know how badly I wanted her to be in one of those graves,” he said. “As hard as it is to admit, I wanted to find her here riding her bike like all these other kids. I guess I just want it to be over.”

Scully looked at him sadly. Does he really want it to be over? Is he finally ready to let go?

“Agent Mulder, Scully, there's a Mr. Harold Piller here to see you,” said a police officer who’d entered the room.

They looked at each other, neither of them recognizing that name. After walking out of the room, they noticed a man who looked to be about 40 years old, waiting for them in the hallway, looking at the missing persons bulletin board on the wall. They greeted him, and shook hands.

“Mr. Piller, are you part of this investigation?” Scully then asked.

“Yes, I hope to be,” he replied.

Mulder and Scully paused. What did that mean? “How can we help you?” Mulder asked.

“I was hoping to help you,” said Piller, as he handed Scully his business card.

She looked at it skeptically. _Oh, brother._ “You're a police psychic.”

Scully gave Mulder her sarcastic eyebrow and he had a slightly amused smile as he turned back to Piller. They’d experienced their fair share of police psychics over the years.

“My references are on the back,” Piller said. “I've gotten some... strong hits off this case. You're looking for a little girl but she's not among the dead. Your suspect is going to say he didn't kill her.”

“Did he?” asked Mulder.

“No. I think I can help find her.”

Scully had been reading over the business card. “Mr. Piller, you have some interesting references here. You've, uh, worked with law enforcements in Kashmir, India, Myanmar, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Khyber Pass...”

“That was a train wreck,” Piller explained. “A horrible tragedy. They called me in to locate the bodies of seven children who were unrecovered.”

“And did you recover them?” Scully asked.

“I didn't recover them, no,” Piller replied. “But I explained what happened.”

“What happened?” asked Mulder.

“The children's bodies... were transported from the accident site by a spiritual intervention,” replied Piller. “What are known as walk-ins.”

Scully gave him a blank stare. What utter bullshit. “Thank you, Mr. Piller, but we have real work to be done.”

She handed him back his card and turned to walk away, but realized Mulder hadn’t followed her, that he was still giving Piller his rapt attention.

“I've studied this phenomenon the world over. Mudslides in Peru, earthquakes in Uzbekistan. Kids' bodies never found, never accounted for in any other way."

“What happened to them?” Mulder asked.

“The bodies were transported from the various sites in starlight.”

Scully had had enough of this nonsense, and grabbed Mulder by the arm. “Please excuse us.”

“Mulder…” She then pulled him away so that they could talk privately. “Mulder, please,” she pleaded. She could see that he was actually buying into this crazy theory. This was the last thing he needed.

“What is it?” he asked her quietly.

She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Mulder, you have been through so much in such a short time – the death of your mother and the feelings it's brought up for your sister. You're vulnerable right now.”

“We still have a missing body – Amber Lynn LaPierre,” Mulder replied. “She may be alive. We don't know.”

Scully couldn’t see how Mulder thought what Piller was saying would be of any help to them. “Yes, but this man isn't gonna help us find her, by his own admission.”

“It's not the first time I've heard what he's saying. About the intervention of these walk-in spirits? Kathy Lee Tencate mentioned it to me in prison. She said that's who took her son.”

Oh, God, not that woman again. “Because it's foolproof, Mulder. Nobody is going to disprove it if there's no body. I mean, that's exactly what this man does. He gives a comforting explanation that a train wreck or an earthquake that everyone can live with. But the fact is the bodies are still buried.”

“Or maybe they are somewhere else.”

Scully could see he was hooked, line and sinker, into Piller’s fantasy, that he was still desperately trying to make connections between this case and Samantha’s abduction, and felt anger start to bubble up. “Like your sister? Mulder, you told me that all you wanted was for this to be over.”

“I do,” he nodded, his voice turning into a whisper. “I do.”

“Well, then I'm going back to Washington. There's nothing more to be done here.”

Scully tried to be calm, gentle, and rational, despite her growing frustration with him. She hoped that he would go back to D.C. with her. She had one of the officers drop her off at the Red Carriage Motel and while packing up her bag, she pulled out her cell phone and pressed speed dial 1.

“Mulder.”

“Mulder, it’s me. Do you want me to pack up your room? There’s a flight leaving Sacramento at 9:00 am with seats still available.”

There was a long pause. “Scully, I’m, uh, gonna take Harold Piller to the crime scene, have him look around.”

She was trying to check her emotions, but was failing. “I can’t believe you’re giving credence to that walk-ins bullshit, Mulder.”

“I’ve heard it before, Scully,” he replied, his tone now ripe with exasperation. “We’ve both heard it before. Remember the Church of the Red Museum?”

She heaved a frustrated sigh, as she zippered her overnight bag shut. “For crying out loud, Mulder. Just because those people say they are enlightened spirits in a new body doesn’t make it true! That’s ridiculous!”

“There is something to what Harold Piller is saying, Scully!” Mulder replied heatedly.

“Mulder, children die tragic deaths every day,” she replied, anger and frustration flooding her stomach as memories of Emily came forward in her mind, tears pricking her eyes. “And you’re saying that these walk-ins believe some children are more deserving? That some deserve to be saved, to run around in the fucking starlight while others are condemned to pain and suffering? I refuse to believe that, Mulder!”

There was a long pause. “I don’t know, Scully. But maybe Harold Piller does. I have to find out.”

“Mulder, that man is going to lead you on a wild goose chase. You’ll get your hopes up, thinking he can provide you with real answers, and then you’ll just end up disappointed.”

He sighed in frustration. “Scully, I know what I’m doin’.”

“Fine, Mulder,” she said before pressing the end button.

*****

After checking out of her motel room, and Scully had arrived at the airport and was waiting at her gate to board the plane, she became determined to find out what had happened to Mulder’s sister. She wanted to believe that Mulder wanted to let go of this obsession. That he was ready to move on. It was what he needed. It was what they needed. She was surprised that she herself had never actually looked into it, relying on Mulder’s account of events all these years. Scully pulled out her phone and dialed the FBI Academy at Quantico, Virginia.

“FBI Training Division. This is Ashley. How may I direct your call?”

“Hi, this is Agent Dana Scully. Badge number 2317616. Is Agent Schoniger around today?”

“Yes, he is. I believe his morning class just ended about 20 minutes ago. I’ll connect you to his office.”

“Thanks.”

Scully waited for the phone to connect. Agent Lewis Schoniger had been with the FBI since 1969. He worked Violent Crimes until he joined the Behavioral Science Unit in 1984, and then in 1986 he began teaching classes for the FBI Academy. He had been one of Scully’s favorite instructors, and she knew that Mulder thought highly of him as well.

“Schoniger.”

“Hello, Agent Schoniger. It’s Dana Scully.”

“Agent Scully! Well, this certainly is a surprise. Haven’t talked to you in ages.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while.”

He cleared his throat. “I, uh, heard you and Agent Mulder are out there in California. Awful stuff. How’re you holding up?”

“I’m fine,” she quickly replied. “But the reason I was calling is about Agent Mulder, actually. I need to look into his sister’s abduction. How much do you know about it?”

There was a brief pause. “Well, I know of some things, by word of mouth and what Mulder has told me himself. But that was a long time ago, back before you partnered up with him. He believes she was abducted by aliens, right?”

She sighed. He used to. She wasn’t so sure what he believed anymore. “He did, yeah. But I’ve never actually investigated those claims myself. There must be somewhere I can go to get some information on what happened to her in 1973.”

“Hmm,” replied Agent Schoniger. “If I remember correctly, I think Agent Mulder’s alien abduction theory came from his regression hypnosis therapy. You’re in Sacramento, right? I can look into it and fax over what I find.”

“Um, actually I’m about to board a plane for D.C.,” Scully replied. “I get into Washington at 5:00 pm.”

He paused. “Tell you what, Agent Scully, I’ll see what I can find on my end, and then I’ll meet you at headquarters at six o’clock tonight.”

“Okay, thank you, Agent Schoniger. I appreciate it.”

After hanging up the phone, she made another call to FBI headquarters and had a background check run on Harold Piller. Scully’s plane landed at Washington Dulles International Airport at 4:55 pm, and after realizing her car was parked outside Mulder’s apartment in Alexandria, she got into a taxi and headed to the Hoover Building in downtown D.C.

After being directed to meet with Agent Schoniger in an empty 3rd floor office, she watched the video of Mulder’s regression hypnosis with Dr. Heitz Werber from June 1989. Agent Schoniger admitted that Mulder appeared to be legitimately hypnotized, but voiced suspicions over his memory of Samantha being abducted by aliens.

“In 30 years with the FBI, you'd think you've seen it all,” Schoniger said after shutting off the video. “I sometimes think I have. But this is just garden variety compensatory abduction fantasy.”

“Compensatory for what?” Scully asked, wondering what Schoniger was getting at here. How could someone make up false memories if they were truly hypnotized?

“His guilt, his fear,” Schoniger replied. “Everything that's preventing Agent Mulder from remembering the truth about what really happened that night.”

This didn’t sound right to Scully. “You mean his sister wasn't abducted?”

Schoniger shook his head. “No, the sister definitely went missing in 1973. That's not in dispute. Agent Mulder, however, wasn't regressed until 1989. See, his delusion is playing into his unconscious hope that his sister is still alive. And if you think about it, his delusion has the effect of giving a reason to pursue her.”

“But why alien abduction?” asked Scully, not able to wrap her brain around the idea that Mulder’s memories from that night Samantha was taken were nothing but delusions.

“ _Close Encounters_ , _E.T._ , who knows?,” Schoniger shrugged. “But there was probably a lot of imagery collecting in his head in those 16 years. And then he comes down here, and he finds the X-Files.”

This still didn’t sit right with her. “So what do you think happened to his sister?”

“Well, in 1973, we were pretty damned unsophisticated about violent, predatory crime. My guess is she was kidnapped in the house, her body was disposed of, never found.”

“You think that his sister's dead?” Scully asked. She’d always felt that was true, something she’d believed all along. She wondered if this was an answer Mulder would be ready to accept.

“Have you seen this file?” Schoniger asked, referring to the manila folder filled with information on Samantha’s abduction he’d gotten ahold of and brought with him. “There was an extraordinary amount of effort put into finding his sister. Even the Treasury Department got involved. His father worked at a high level in the government. They found nothing.”

Scully looked at the file, at the copies made of the original documents. She looked over the missing person’s report for Samantha. Of course Agent Schoniger, while meaning well, would assume Mulder’s theory of alien abduction was nothing more than delusion if he didn’t believe in the existence of aliens. But Scully knew they did, in fact, exist. She’d seen proof with her own eyes, proof she could no longer dismiss or deny. She refused to believe Mulder’s memories, the experiences he’d had over the past seven years, were nothing but delusions.

“Why, Agent Scully? Why do you want to bring all this back up now?” Schoniger seemed concerned.

“Someone owes it to Mulder.”

“Word of advice, me to you. Let it be. You know, there are some wounds that are just too painful ever to be reopened.”

“Well, this particular wound has never healed,” Scully replied. “And Mulder deserves closure, just like anyone.”

Scully still felt angry over Teena Mulder’s suicide, angry that the people who could’ve most helped Mulder with his search for the truth purposely kept it from him, condemning him to a lifetime of frustration and heartache. When Scully had told Mulder that she wished there was something she could do to help him find his sister, she’d meant what she said.

The following morning, Friday, February 11th, after waking up at 6:03 am, Scully got on a plane for New York City, rented a car, and drove to Teena Mulder’s apartment in Greenwich, Connecticut. Scully had a strong feeling that Mulder’s mother might have kept information regarding what happened to Samantha. After picking the lock and searching inside the apartment, looking through drawers and papers, Scully looked down at the burned trash can on the floor of the bedroom. There had obviously been a fire inside it. She picked up the trash can, and peeled a small piece of burned paper off the side, a corner was all that remained from what it once had been attached to. Scully noticed there was something signed in the bottom Supervisor box in the burned corner piece: “C.G.B.S.," and thought it might match an official form that was inside the file Agent Schoniger had given her.

After going out to her car to grab the file, she walked back inside Teena Mulder’s apartment and confirmed that the burned piece of paper was a match. The copied form she had in the file was conveniently missing this section with the C.G.B.S. signature. The Smoking Man. He must know something about what happened to Mulder’s sister. Scully pulled out her cell phone and pressed speed dial 1.

“Mulder.”

“Mulder, it's me. I found something, and I'm standing here not quite believing what it is.”

“What is it?”

“I don't know if you know this but there was a special Treasury Department investigation into Samantha's disappearance.”

“In 1973,” he replied. “I know all about that.”

“Well, I'm in your mother's house and I found a piece of a document that she burned - a document that matches one that I found in the treasury investigation file. But she had the original, Mulder.”

“I don't see where you're goin’ with this, Scully.”

Scully thought she heard irritation in his voice. “This is the document that effectively calls off the search for your sister, Mulder. And it's signed with the initials ‘C.G.B.S.’ C.G.B. Spender, the Smoking Man. He was involved with this back in '73.”

“Well, that's not exactly a revelation, Scully. He was a friend of my father's.”

 _What the hell?_ “Mulder, you told me you believe that he's the man that killed your father, that he's the man who's done nothing but confound your work, who’s come close to killing you. And here he's ordering people to stop looking for your sister.”

“I don't see what you think this proves or how you think it's gonna help me find her now,” said Mulder.

Scully felt surprised at his uninterested reaction to this. “You don't want to press him?”

“It's a dead end,” Mulder replied impatiently. “He's never been of any help and he's not going to be of any help now. Look, I'm pursuing this my own way, all right? I gotta go.”

Scully sighed as he hung up the phone. It had sounded like Mulder was driving. She wondered what he was up to with Piller. How could he have been so offhand about the Smoking Man? Hadn’t he been the one to dangle Samantha in front of Mulder for almost the past seven years? Using her to manipulate him? Telling him that his sister was alive? Hadn’t Mulder’s recovered childhood memories featured the Smoking Man’s presence around the time Samantha disappeared? Arguments between him and Mulder’s parents just days before her abduction? Wasn’t the reason given for her being taken was because that Syndicate of government men had been in cahoots with alien colonists? That they’d demanded insurance from each member? Isn’t that what the Smoking Man had done to his own wife? Wasn’t she also abducted on November 27, 1973? Hadn’t the Smoking Man allowed Cassandra Spender to be abducted, allowed decades of tests and experiments performed on her? Why does Mulder suddenly think the Smoking Man had nothing to do with Samantha’s abduction? This Amber Lynn LaPierre case was doing a number on Mulder, and who knows what nonsense Harold Piller was filling his head with.

Scully left Teena Mulder’s place and started on the 45 minute drive back to New York City to catch a plane back to Washington. She immediately got on her cell phone and called around the Treasury Department, asking how to get a hold of this C.G.B.S. who had worked there in 1973 and signed the form calling off the search for Special Agent Fox Mulder’s sister Samantha. Scully kept getting passed along from department to department, not finding out anything. While standing in line at the John F. Kennedy Airport, waiting to board her 3:00 pm nonstop flight to D.C., she was shuffled around the State Department, trying to find C.G.B.S. No luck. After landing at Washington Dulles International Airport at 4:21 pm, she drove to headquarters and camped in their basement office for the evening, calling around various government departments, including the Department of Defense, searching for C.G.B.S. or anyone who knew of the reason the Treasury Department’s search for Samantha Mulder had been called off just three weeks after her disappearance. No one could give her any information.

*****

It was just past 6:30 pm on Friday evening. He sat back in the chair at his desk, taking out a cigarette from his packet of Morley’s. He wasn’t sure why he’d felt compelled to come into the office this afternoon. This was the first time he’d left his apartment since he’d heard of Teena’s death. She’d been the only woman he’d ever loved. Teena had loved him, too, and had given him two children. She never gave Bill any children. He was probably sterile, the poor bastard. But he had to sit back and watch Bill Mulder raise his kids. How he had loathed Bill for that. Yes, Teena had loved him, despite her marriage to Bill. But Samantha’s abduction had changed all that. She closed down to Bill, she closed down to him. He couldn’t blame her, really, but she’d refused to see the necessity of the project. He wondered if she ever was able to tell Mulder what had happened all those years ago.

The operation hadn’t gone as planned. Whatever had caused the junk DNA inside Mulder to suddenly become active, and the immunization to the alien virus to somehow take effect, causing Mulder to become a ready-made alien-human hybrid, he didn’t know how or why. The alien vaccine was in Mulder’s system, he was immune to the coming viral apocalypse. For years he’d doubted Krycek’s tale of Mulder being tested with the vaccination in Russia, but the blood tests on Mulder in the Department of Defense medical lab had proved Krycek had told the truth for once in his fucking life, that rat bastard. He thought of where Krycek was now, and smiled grimly.

But Mulder’s immunity hadn’t been compatible with his own body once the operation had finished, which had been surprising to him since he knew they shared the same DNA. He had assumed Mulder would die, or that Mulder would at least been ill from the operation like he was. But he had surprisingly learned that Mulder made an astonishingly fast recovery.

As he took a long drag from his Morley cigarette he thought of Mulder. He’d seen him on the news, out there in California looking for that kidnapped girl. Would Mulder ever get over his personal demons? What was the point to them anymore? He then thought it strange that Scully hadn’t been seen with Mulder whenever he’d appeared on the news cameras walking into or out of that family’s house. Why wouldn’t Scully have been there with Mulder? Maybe she just would’ve avoided the cameras. That was certainly like her.

His phone rang, and he reached for the receiver. “Yes?”

“General Suveg here. Glad I caught you. Someone’s been calling around the Defense Department asking about you. And the State Department. And the Treasury Department.”

This was unexpected. He hadn’t had a call from Mark Suveg in almost a year. Who would be asking about him? Those who needed to reach him, knew how to. “Who was calling?”

“Special Agent Dana Scully of the FBI.”

He didn’t know what to make of this. “Do you happen to know why she was calling?”

“She wants to know why the Treasury Department’s search for Samantha Mulder was called off in December 1973,” General Suveg replied.

Why was this being brought up now? Maybe Mulder had gone off the deep end again. Missing little girls tend to do that to him. “Agent Scully is out in California with Agent Mulder, correct?”

“No. Security at the Bureau states she is at headquarters. Agent Mulder hasn’t checked into the Hoover Building since February 7th. FAA passenger manifests show him arriving in Sacramento on Wednesday, but he hasn’t traveled since then. He’s most likely still out in California.”

“All right.”

He hung up the phone, and sighed. He thought his signature had been expunged from all Treasury Department files. But… Bill and Teena had been given the original. He’d forgotten. Damn. Scully shouldn’t be bringing attention to things that are better off buried. And why wasn’t she in California with Mulder? It’s not like them to be on opposite sides of the country. Maybe there were cracks in the foundation, and maybe they were growing larger. Maybe Diana had actually done something worthwhile.

After collecting his trench coat and informing his driver he would be down shortly, he walked out of the Pentagon and got into the back seat of the black Lincoln Town Car. He stared out of the tinted windows as the car made its way west on Army Navy Drive in Arlington, Virginia and headed towards D.C. He decided showing up at the FBI wasn’t a good idea, and directed his driver to 1419 31st Street NW in Georgetown.

Once the car had parked, he made his way into the apartment building and pressed the button for the third floor when he’d gotten inside the elevator. After walking down the hallway, he stood in front of apartment #35 and knocked. He had thought the chance very little that she would’ve come home by the time he’d arrived. Oh well. He picked the lock, and after letting himself inside, he took a seat in one of her living room chairs and hoped she wouldn’t be home for a while; the chair was comfortable, and he was tired.

*****

Scully stood and watched the Smoking Man walk out of her apartment. He’d told her that he believed Samantha was dead, but she knew he was a liar. But was he lying now? Or had he been lying all those years to Mulder, telling him that his sister was alive and he knew where she was? What reason would the Smoking Man have to lie now? The man looked sick, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he was dying. The Smoking Man had said that he kept Mulder ignorant of the truth out of kindness, to give him hope. Since when had he’d acted so benevolent? She doubted that ‘giving Mulder hope’ was his reason for lying all these years, it was most likely to prevent his work, his crimes, from becoming public knowledge, to use Mulder as a pawn in his games. The Smoking Man was all that remained of that Consortium, as the rest had all perished at El Rico Air Base. The conspiracy was over, destroyed by those faceless rebel aliens. What was there for him to hide from Mulder? What secrets did he need to protect anymore?

She was suddenly amused that she found alien abduction a more plausible theory to Samantha’s disappearance than Piller’s ideas of walk-ins and ‘spiritual interventions.’ But then Scully thought of Emily. Where was her so-called spiritual intervention? Why hadn’t these walk-ins deemed her deserving enough to be saved? The thought was only painful, and filled her with anger, and so she pushed it away.

Scully had retrieved that background check on Harold Piller. Of course. Of course the guy leading Mulder around to search for Amber Lynn’s body, and she also suspected Samantha too, was a schizophrenic who was under investigation for the murder of his own son. Good grief. She called Mulder’s cell phone, but he didn’t answer. She tried calling his phone several times over the course of the evening, but he never answered. Scully only shook her head in frustration as she put down her cordless phone.

As Scully got ready for bed later that night, she thought about what the Smoking Man had said and the other information she had been able to gather earlier that day. She had also done some other digging while at the FBI that evening, reviewing their X-files on Cassandra Spender and checking old missing person’s reports from November 1973. Scully learned that not only had Cassandra been returned in December of that same year, but several other children of government employees who had gone missing the night of November 27, 1973 had also been returned to their families shortly before Christmas.

Scully remembered Mulder’s anger over the Smoking Man sending away his wife, over the other Syndicate members sending away their children to be tested on by the alien colonists. At first Scully had found this whole story to be on the verge of ludicrous, but now wasn’t so sure anymore. Quite a few children, some young and some in their teens, as well as Samantha Mulder, disappeared on November 27, 1973. Their fathers all worked for various government departments. Scully supposed their positions within the government prevented any real investigation into the disappearances, and just a few short weeks later the children were all returned as well as Cassandra Spender. Except Samantha Mulder. She was the only one who had never returned to her family, not in December 1973, not ever. Maybe the Smoking Man was now finally telling the truth. Maybe he really did believe she was dead. Maybe she hadn’t survived the abduction process, like the others had.

Despite her worries over not knowing what Mulder was up to out in California with Harold Piller, and wondering if he would be able to accept that his sister was most likely dead, eventually she was able to fall asleep. But that was short-lived as the ringing of her cell phone startled her out of a sound sleep. As she reached for the phone on her bedside table, she saw the time was 2:54 am.

“Hello?” she answered groggily.

“Scully, it’s me.”

“Mulder?” Great. Now he finally decides to call her back.

“You gotta get out here. I… I have to show you something. You’re not gonna believe it.”

She sighed. “What is it?”

“My sister.”

Scully sighed again, but then quickly decided that perhaps it was better to tell Mulder about the Smoking Man in person. “Okay, I’ll leave in the morning.”

Mulder breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. I’m still at the Red Carriage Motel.”

“I’ll be there,” she said, before hanging up.

The early Saturday morning flights out of D.C. had been full, but Scully was able to get a seat on the 11:00 am nonstop flight to Sacramento, landing at 2:05 pm local time. By the time she got off the plane, made her way through the airport terminal, and out the arrivals doors it was almost 2:45 pm. She hated flying on Saturdays, and she hated sitting in the very back of the plane. Scully then took a taxi from the airport to the Red Carriage Motel, arriving shortly after 3:00 pm, and after knocking on room 121, Mulder opened the door. He was standing there in jeans, and wearing a black sweater over his white undershirt, which was peeking out from under the collar, sleeves pushed up his forearms, and she unexpectedly felt her heart start to race, much to her own annoyance. Why did it seem like forever since she’d seen him? It had only been a couple days.

“Hi,” he greeted her, smiling and standing aside for her to come in the room. Mulder still couldn’t believe what he’d seen at April Air Force Base. He was on the verge of finding the truth, he knew it, and he needed Scully out here with him.

“Hi,” she replied. Mulder appeared to be excited, and Scully wondered what he’d found, and fervently hoped he hadn’t been led too far astray by Piller.

She dropped her overnight duffel bag by the window and sat on the edge of the bed. Scully wanted to tell him about the Smoking Man, wanted to tell him about Harold Piller, but found herself hesitating. Over the years she’d never voiced her own belief that his sister was dead, knowing this would hurt Mulder, that this was something he’d never want to hear. But this search, this obsession, had to end sometime; it couldn’t just go on forever. Scully hoped Mulder was ready to accept the fact that he would most likely never find out what had happened to her; that she was dead, and had probably died a very long time ago.

“Mulder…” she sighed, steeling herself to tell Mulder what she’d learned, her stomach turning into knots.

“She lived at April Air Force Base, Scully. In one of the houses on the base. C.G.B. Spender’s house. The Smoking Man. There were handprints in the cement outside, hers and Jeffrey’s. She was here, Scully. Here in California.” Mulder remembered the night before, seeing with his own eyes signs of Samantha’s existence after the night she’d disappeared, proof he’d never had until now.

What? Lived with the Smoking Man? With Cassandra and Jeffrey? “When did you come up with this story, Mulder? Because yesterday, when I spoke to you, you said that the Smoking Man wasn't involved.”

“Well, it turns out you were right, Scully. He had every reason to call off the hunt for my sister. After her abduction, she was returned to him and he raised her at the military base along with his son Jeffrey Spender.”

“Mulder…” she said, standing up from the bed. She could see he wasn’t prepared for the truth. That this story would only make him fight harder, search longer. This could go on forever. He had to face reality.

“Scully, I saw her name in the cement,” he said confidently, lifting his hands. “Her handprints, right next to his.”

She walked a few steps towards where he was sitting on the dresser against the wall, closing the distance between them, and placed her hands on top of his thighs. “Mulder, I spoke to him. The Smoking Man, C.G.B. Spender, whatever his name is...”

Mulder stared at her in disbelief. “You went to him?”

“He told me that she was dead,” Scully replied.

He sighed, closing his eyes. “Oh, well... he's a liar.” How could Scully have sought out Cancer Man? Didn’t she know how dangerous that was? Not to mention a waste of time. He was never going to tell the truth.

She wanted Mulder to reason, to be logical about this. She knew he didn’t want to hear it, but it was time he faced up to the truth. She could feel her stomach tighten into more knots of anxiety, knowing Samantha’s death would only bring him more pain. “Mulder, why would he lie now? I mean, think about it. It hurts me to tell you this.”

Mulder could feel anger rising up. He knew what he saw out there. He knew he was right. He got up from the dresser, effectively shoving Scully out of the way, his posture angry and defensive.

“The handprints prove he's a liar!” Mulder yelled as he walked away, putting distance between him and her pity, before turning to look at her again. “I saw her handprints in the cement. Her name ‘Samantha’ right underneath them. How more obvious can it be? Harold Piller led me there. He led me right to ‘em.”

Scully had crossed her arms defensively, and looked away from him as he yelled at her. Until he mentioned Harold Piller, and she turned to glare at him. “Oh, he led you, Mulder. He led you from the moment that he met you.”

Mulder stared at her, as an indescribable sinking feeling came over him. What was she getting at?

“I ran a background check on your friend, Harold Piller. He’s a schizophrenic and was committed to a mental institution for two years. He’s also being investigated as a suspect for the murder of his five year old son, Nicholas Piller.”

“He never told me any of that,” Mulder replied angrily.

Mulder grabbed his leather jacket and they left the motel room, walking over to the restaurant next door to the motel, where they confronted Piller. He claimed to have his schizophrenia under control, and that his son had disappeared, that the police just needed to lay blame somewhere. Mulder assumed that Piller believed the walk-ins had taken his son, just like his theory of what had happened to Amber Lynn LaPierre. But Mulder’s suspicions had been raised, and he didn’t want to be jerked around yet again by people claiming to have the answers but showing him nothing.

Piller denied being a fraud, and claimed to only want to find his son. “I see these things. I don't know how, but... there has got to be a reason. And if it's not to help, what is it? I know your sister is out there. Maybe I can prove it to you.”

Mulder looked at Piller, and turned in his seat at the table to look up at Scully, seeking her judgment of what they’d just listened to. She was staring at Piller. She sensed he was being sincere. Maybe he is psychic, maybe he isn’t. But Scully thought that he clearly believes that he can help them. She looked at Mulder, and they stared at each other. She knew that whether or not they trust Piller from here on out was going to be her call. They could leave right now and return to D.C., that Mulder would leave Piller and his walk-ins nonsense behind, if she said so. But she’d also told Mulder that if there was anything she could do to help him find Samantha, she would do it. And she realized that in actuality she had made that unspoken promise to him nearly seven years ago, inside his motel room in Bellefleur, Oregon.

Scully returned her gaze to Piller. “Show me this house with the handprints.”

Mulder looked at her, surprise written all over his face. This was what he had wanted. He’d wanted to go back to that house, see what he could find, but he’d wanted to go with Scully. Sure, Piller might be able to show him some things, but Mulder had needed Scully out there with him and was relieved she was here. But he certainly hadn’t expected an argument to erupt when she arrived, though.

“We’ll have to wait until dark,” Piller replied. “It’ll take us about two hours to drive down there if the traffic isn’t too bad. Sunset is at 5:40 this afternoon, so we should leave fairly soon.”

Scully sighed, nodding, and then turned around and walked out of the restaurant. Shortly afterwards Mulder came walking up behind her on the sidewalk as she walked towards the motel parking lot.

“Are you sure?” he asked once he walking by her side.

“I want to see it for myself, Mulder.”

There was still tension between them, they both could feel it, and the rest of their walk back to Mulder’s motel room was silent. Once they’d stepped inside the motel room door and removed their jackets, tossing them onto the bed, they stood in the room facing each other, somewhat awkwardly. Mulder felt he couldn’t be silent anymore.

“I don’t like that you went to see Cancer Man. Don’t ever do that again.”

Scully inwardly balked at this command. “I didn’t exactly go to him, Mulder. I was looking around for information, yes. But then he came to me. He showed up at my apartment last night.”

“Oh, that’s even better!” Mulder said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He didn’t want that bastard anywhere near Scully, and especially not inside her apartment.

“He looked very sick. He might be dying.”

Mulder wanted to change the subject. “Do you wanna hear how we found out about April Base?”

“Let me guess, spiritual intervention? The walk-ins led you to the base?” Scully’s tone was now matching Mulder’s sarcasm, although hers was markedly more bitter. Thoughts of Emily were suddenly springing forward, and she fought them back.

He sighed, his hands on his hips, staring at her in frustration. “Scully, how is it that after everything you’ve seen over the years, including spiritual intervention, you can just dismiss this theory out of hand?”

“Since when do you give credence to anything spiritual, Mulder?” Scully countered, her voice rising slightly, feeling angry. “Why should these old souls determine some children are more worthy than others? Why save this child and that child, while condemning others to terrible suffering?”

Mulder stared at her, and he knew. He thought back to that scene in the parking lot of Santa’s North Pole Village, the picture of Emily that Scully had held in her lap. Mulder knew where this anger over walk-ins was coming from.

“Scully…”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Mulder,” she said bitingly, interrupting him.

He felt frustrated. “Yeah? Then what do you want?”

She didn’t want to think about Emily. Or other suffering children. Her stomach then plummeted when her mind suddenly reminded her of Mulder’s children she’d lost in the failed IVF treatments. Scully stared at him, and felt her heart racing again. “I want you to shut me up.”

Mulder saw her breathing quicken, her pupils dilate, and felt his cock twitch inside his jeans. Scully took two determined steps forward, closing the distance between them, as Mulder lifted his hands to catch her face, bending down to capture her lips with his, as she wrapped her arms around his waist, running her hands underneath the hem of his shirt and running them up the warm skin of his back.

Soon there were no words being said inside her brain other than _yes_ and _more_ and _this_ and _Oh, God_ as Mulder’s tongue brushed against her lips, seeking entrance, and he unfolded inside her mouth, his tongue caressing her tender skin. She felt heat growing in the pit of her stomach as her muscles tightened, wet desire flowed from her center.

Mulder’s hands dropped from Scully’s jawline, wrapping tightly around her and holding her to him. Her mouth was soft and warm and wet against his as he kissed her fervently, passionately. He felt the tension dissipating, and welcomed the relief. His body was now taking over, his brain shutting off for the first time in a week, and all he wanted was to fill his five senses with Scully: to feel her soft skin pressed against his, smell her arousal for him, taste her flesh, hear her sounds, see her face contort with ecstasy as he brings her to orgasm again and again.

As Scully felt Mulder begin to stiffen against her stomach, there was a knock on the door.

“It’s Harold,” Piller called through the door. “We should probably get going soon.”

They broke free of each other, breathing hard. Mulder stared at her as she licked her lips, before she turned and sat on the bed, calming her breathing.

Mulder walked over to the door. “All right, Harold. We’ll be out in a few minutes.”

He then watched Scully walk into the bathroom, where she emptied her bladder and splashed cold water on her face. Fifteen minutes later they departed the Red Carriage Motel, with Harold Piller sitting in the back seat of Mulder’s rental car, and drove 120 miles southeast to Merced, California and the decommissioned April Air Force Base that lay eight miles outside the city limits.

*****

Mulder opened his eyes and looked down to his right, and saw a small boy, ethereal in appearance, looking up at him. The boy reached up and took Mulder’s hand from Scully’s, leading him away from the séance, and walked him towards the back of the house, before entering a bedroom. The boy let go of Mulder’s hand and pointed to a built-in wall bookshelf.

Scully opened her eyes, and felt almost as if she’d been asleep, and turned to see that Mulder was gone. She hadn’t even felt his hand leave hers. She hadn’t heard him walk away. Where was he? She walked down the hallway leading out back from the living room and found Mulder standing in a small bedroom.

“Mulder? What are you doing?”

“It's here,” he replied, referring to the bookshelf.

“What is?” she asked.

“There was a boy. He led me into this room.”

A boy? What boy? “Mulder?” she asked, her tone seeking clarification for what he just said.

Mulder began breaking through the built-in wall bookshelf, and then pulled out a small leather-bound book.

“It's a diary,” Harold Piller said as he entered the room, as they turned to look at him. “It's your sister's.”

Mulder and Scully stared at each other. He felt excited and scared at the same time. He was holding something that had belonged to Samantha; her words were written inside, her thoughts. He felt overwhelmed, and knew he needed to read it as soon as possible.

Scully wondered about the boy Mulder had seen, about why she’d felt like she’d fallen asleep out there in the living room, about how Mulder could possibly know there was something hidden behind that bookshelf, in this bedroom. She knew he needed to read that book.

“I’ll drive,” she said.

Mulder gave her a small grateful smile.

After a two hour drive back to Sacramento, they parked the car in the Red Carriage Motel parking lot and walked next door to the restaurant as Harold Piller made his way to his motel room. Scully had convinced Mulder that he needed to eat something. After sitting down at a table inside, they ordered a BLT to share and two cups of coffee. Once the sandwich had been consumed, Mulder opened the diary and began reading Samantha’s entries aloud to Scully.

There were moments when Mulder had to pause, feeling his throat constrict with emotion and his eyes well up with tears. He would blink them back, swallow, and continue reading. Mulder felt conflicted. This diary containing Samantha’s thoughts, her experiences, written in 1979, was like a Godsend, proof that her life had continued beyond November 27, 1973. It was proof that she really had been taken from him that night, taken by supernatural means for the Consortium’s alien-human hybrid project, validating his long-held beliefs. But how his sister had suffered, and reading of her suffering broke his heart. If the Smoking Man had walked into the restaurant at that very moment, Mulder wasn’t sure whether anything could have prevented him from taking out his gun and pulling the trigger.

Scully felt herself growing more and more sorrowful with each passage read, her heart aching, not only for Mulder, but for his sister, this girl she’d never known. Scully’s eyes filled with tears as Samantha wrote about her vague memories of a brother with brown hair, wishing she could see him. Scully ached for him as she saw his own eyes fill with tears, and she felt hurt at her heart over the cruelties that had parted Mulder from his sister, the awful tests the poor girl had been subjected to.

Scully reached her hand over to gently squeeze his when he finished reading Samantha’s final entry about wanting to run away. She could see the pain and sorrow in Mulder’s face, and fought to keep herself from crying there at the table.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said.

Mulder nodded, and they got up from the table. He walked outside while she went over to the register and paid their bill. As Scully walked outside, she approached Mulder who was standing and waiting for her, with his head tilted to look up into the night sky. He thought of Kathy Lee Tencate, her visions of her dead son, and Harold Piller’s theories of walk-ins and starlight. Mulder then wondered who that little boy was in the house, who had led him to Samantha’s diary. Was souls living in starlight such a ridiculous idea?

“You know, I never stop to think,” Mulder said when Scully had walked up next to him. “That the light is billions of years old by the time we see it. From the beginning of time right past us into the future. Nothing is ancient in the universe.” He then glanced down to look at her. “But, maybe they are souls, Scully. Traveling through time as starlight, looking for homes. I wonder what my mother saw. I wonder what she was trying to tell me.”

Scully doubted that Teena Mulder had tried to tell him anything about walk-ins and starlight, but she wasn’t about to say that to him. “Get some sleep.”

Mulder found what she said both painful and amusing. How could he possibly sleep after everything he just read? He smiled and bent over slightly chuckling, before straightening. “All right.”

She started walking back next door to the Red Carriage Motel, and after one more glance up at the stars, he followed her to his motel room. After dressing into their pajamas and getting into bed, Scully felt relieved when Mulder eventually fell asleep. She wondered if he was on his way to finally letting go, if this quest was soon coming to an end, now that he had some real evidence of what had happened to his sister in 1973.

But as Scully laid down, she found that she was the one who couldn’t sleep. Why had the diary, which had been faithfully written in for months and months suddenly come to an abrupt end? Samantha’s final two or three entries had been about her desire to run away. Did she run away? The Smoking Man had said that he believed she was dead, not that he knew for a fact that she was. Did she do it? Break free from him, and the project doctors, and the tests? A fourteen year old runaway wouldn’t go unnoticed for very long. Where could she go once she had snuck off the base? The closest town was Merced, but that was eight miles from the base. If she hadn’t actually been able to make it there on foot, could she have been spotted? Picked up?

Scully quietly rolled out of bed, got dressed, grabbed her gun and holster, her FBI badge, and after putting on her jacket, she took the rental car keys off the table and left the motel. She drove to the California Highway Patrol Headquarters on North 7th Street, and after entering the building she approached the front desk. The officer at the desk, a middle-aged man with graying blond hair, raised his head in surprise.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

Scully pulled out her FBI badge. “Special Agent Dana Scully. I need to look at your records. Your police blotters from 1979.”

The officer stared at her. “Uh… it’s almost four o’clock in the morning.”

Scully showed her badge again, her facial expression revealing she wasn’t about to be prevented, no matter what time the clock said. “Could you please just direct me to your records division? Thank you.”

“All right, just sign in here,” he sighed, pulling out a registry form. “All records prior to 1985 are kept in the basement. You’ll find the years clearly marked at the end of each aisle. Just take the elevator down the hallway to the right, and that’ll take you to the basement.”

“Thank you,” Scully replied.

After making her way down to the basement, she located the aisle for 1979, but suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the amount of files on the shelves. Once she started looking through some reports, she noticed that if more than one law enforcement agency had been involved and the California Highway Patrol had relinquished control over the incident, whether a traffic accident or a crime, to said other law enforcement agency, the police blotter containing that specific report was filed in a different section. One section of the aisle contained reports where a city’s local police department had taken over at the scene, and another section contained the reports if the county sheriff had been given control. Scully knew she was going to be down in that basement for hours.

As the morning went by, and as more personnel arrived at the CHP headquarters, several office employees checked on Scully down in the basement, bringing her coffee and a bagel, for which she was thankful. She had no such luck with the records. She searched and searched, but was coming up with nothing. At just past 11:00 am, she had decided to give up, and gathered the folders from the table, walking back to the 1979 aisle.

As she was putting the file folders back up on the shelf, she accidentally knocked over a couple files on the shelf below. Scully bent down to pick them up, finding one had opened to lay flat on its spine on the floor, and had opened on the familiar bulleted index with brief descriptions of what the reports inside the folder contained. The bulleted index told her the file contained reports dated October 23, 1979. Scully hadn’t read this file.

Inside the folder Scully found a police blotter report by California Highway Patrolman J. Poole. His notes read: “Approximately 14 year old girl picked up on Highway 59. Runaway claims she was held hostage and she was taken to hospital for exam.”

Scully’s stomach bottomed out. There was no name given for the girl, but Scully knew it was Mulder’s sister. She couldn’t believe it. After reading the rest of the report, Scully learned that Patrolman Poole had handed Samantha over to Detective J. Floyd of the Merced County Sheriff’s Department, who then took her to the Dominic Savio Memorial Hospital in the city of Merced. She made a copy of the police blotter and then left the station, driving back towards the Red Carriage Motel.

*****

Mulder was standing outside the home of Arbutus Ray. He had been surprised when Scully had come knocking on the motel door, surprised to learn he’d slept for nearly 12 hours when he’d been planning on waking up early and flying back to D.C. He’d wanted to find all the information he could on the Spenders, and how long they had been at April Air Force Base. But when Scully had shown him that police report, he couldn’t believe it. He quickly packed up their things while Scully checked them out of the motel, before driving back down to Merced, California. He and Scully had camped down in the medical records office of the Dominic Savio Memorial Hospital, poring over charts looking for any record of Samantha. Almost two hours after they had started, Mulder found her. The 14 year old runaway who wouldn’t give anyone her name, who claimed she was held hostage against her will, which no doubt led to that “signs of paranoia” statement on the chart, crescent-shaped scars on her body. Arbutus Ray had been the E.R. nurse who filled out the admittance report.

After learning that Arbutus Ray had remained at Dominic Savio Memorial Hospital until 1982, when she’d accepted a nurse manager position at a hospital in Victorville, California, they collected Harold Piller from where he’d been wandering around the children’s ward, and took the five hour drive south to Victorville. And now Mulder was standing outside her house. He had an overwhelming feeling that this was it. That this nurse was going to reveal his sister’s fate. He had no idea why he felt this, anything could’ve happened to Samantha after her stay at the hospital. But Mulder felt he had been brought here for a reason, to learn the truth. That the road ended here.

His feelings were confirmed as he heard Arbutus Ray tell Scully and Harold that she’d seen a vision of Samantha dead, but she blinked and it was suddenly gone. Mulder then knew what had happened. The same thing that had happened to Harold, to Kathy Lee Tencate, to the LaPierres. Mulder looked to his right and he saw the young boy, the boy who had led him to Samantha’s diary. He turned, beckoning Mulder to follow him, and so he began walking after the boy. He wondered if this boy, the one so determined to help him, was Harold’s son.

As Mulder got closer, the boy stopped and held out his hand to him.

Mulder took the boy by the hand, and they walked through the trees to a clearing lit by the moon and stars. Ethereal children were playing all around him. Amber Lynn LaPierre looked up at him and smiled. The children were at peace, they were happy. He felt a deep sense of peace and inner happiness he’d never experienced before, as he smiled at the children playing around him.

Then Mulder looked up and saw a young teenage girl with long dark hair, wearing a white sweater and a skirt with some kind of floral pattern. The pretty girl was running towards him, smiling. He stared in amazement. Samantha. He felt incredible joy and crushing heartbreak all at once. She ran full speed at him, until she’d wrapped her arms around him. Mulder was in shock. And then it all came crashing down on him. She was dead. He’d never find Samantha. He’d never be able to hold her, tell her how much he loves her. But then she looked up at him, smiling, and held his face in her hands. She knew. She knew how much he loved her. And he was wrong. He did find her, she was here. And he could hold her. He wrapped his arms around her, running his hand through her hair and kissing her head as she held onto him tight.

Then she looked up at him again. “I love you, Fox.”

She’d mouthed the words, but he’d been unable to hear her voice. Maybe her voice was too heavenly, too pure for human ears. Then moving clouds covered the moon and stars overhead, and she was gone. The children were gone. He had no idea how long he’d held Samantha, it had seemed liked hours but it had also seemed only like seconds. Mulder sighed, smiling to himself, and started walking back to the car.

Scully and Harold Piller were waiting by the car. She wondered where Mulder was. She’d turned to look for him from Mrs. Ray’s front porch, but he was gone. That was 15 minutes ago. But then she saw him walking out of the woods towards them.

“Mulder, where did you go?”

“End of the road,” he replied calmly.

Mulder then walked past Scully to Harold. “He's okay. It's okay.”

“My son?” Piller said excitedly. “You saw my son?”

Scully wondered what this was about.

“He's dead,” Mulder replied. “They're all dead, Harold. Your son, Amber Lynn, and my sister.”

“No,” said Piller adamantly.

Mulder placed his hands on Piller’s shoulders. “Harold, you see so much but you refuse to see him. You refuse to let him go. But you have to let him go now, Harold. He's protected. He's in a better place. They're all in a better place. We both have to let go, Harold.”

“You're wrong,” Piller replied desperately. “I'm going to find him. I don't believe you.”

Mulder watched Harold Piller walk away from them. Scully wondered what was going on with Mulder, where he’d gone, what he’d seen, what had made Mulder sound so at peace with the idea that Samantha was dead.

“Mulder, what happened? Are you sure you're all right?”

“I'm fine,” Mulder said, looking up at the starry sky. “I’m free.”

*****

Eventually Mulder and Scully rounded up Harold Piller and they drove into the city of Victorville. Scully glanced over at Mulder in the passenger seat. He still hadn’t told her what had happened in those woods, but she’d relayed to him everything that Arbutus Ray had told her, including the Smoking Man coming to the hospital to claim Samantha, only to find that she’d vanished. As much as Scully personally felt the need to reject this theory of walk-ins and children saved through spiritual intervention, why would Arbutus Ray make that up? The vision of Samantha dead, then her body disappearing? Mulder had been right about this phenomenon, of course. She glanced over at him again, as he looked out the passenger side window, and sighed. She wondered about that young boy Mulder had seen, and what had happened out there in the woods. He'd obviously seen something.

“Mulder?” she said in a low voice.

“Yeah?” he replied, turning to look at her.

She glanced at him before turning back to watch the road. “Whatever you say happened to you out there tonight, I just need you to know something.”

He sighed. Here it comes. The doubt. The skepticism. Scully had never been one to give weight to first person accounts of events. Did he expect anything else?

“I believe you.”

Mulder gave her a surprised look. She was resolutely looking out the windshield as she drove through the city of Victorville, but she reached over and took his hand. Mulder entwined his fingers with hers. He felt a lump growing in his throat, and he blinked back tears.

Scully pulled into the Hilltop Garden Motel, and thought the name ironic as there was no hill and she didn’t see any garden. It was almost 11:00 pm, and she checked her and Mulder into a room, while Harold Piller got a room for himself. Once her and Mulder had entered into their room, setting their bags on the floor by the closet, he went and sat on the edge of the bed.

Mulder suddenly felt the weight of everything, the past 26 years, lifting off his shoulders. He felt the relief, but also the sorrow, the heartbreak, the grief. Scully removed her jacket and turned to see tears streaming down Mulder’s face. She knelt on the floor in front of him, rubbing her hands on his thighs.

“Samantha is dead,” he choked out.

She nodded. “I know, Mulder.”

Scully removed his shoes and socks, before standing up to remove his sweater and white undershirt, tears continuing to stream down his face. She then unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, before he lifted his hips and let Scully pull them off his legs. She placed Mulder’s clothes in a neat pile on top of the motel dresser. After undressing until all she had on was her pair of cotton underwear, she pulled back the comforter and sheet, helping Mulder into bed, and laid down next to him.

“Scully,” he said, still crying.

“Yes, Mulder.”

“Cancer Man. He stole my sister.”

She sighed. Scully had thought about this, ever since she saw the handprints outside that house on April Air Force Base. Thought about it again after Arbutus Ray had told her he’d come for Samantha at the hospital.

“Maybe he thought he was keeping what was rightfully his,” she guessed.

“His daughter, you mean?” He wiped the tears from his face. Mulder didn't want to think about their parentage, even though it was something he couldn't ignore. He didn't think there was anyone on earth he had loathed more than the Smoking Man, and now even more so.

Scully nodded sadly. “All the other family members of the Consortium who had been abducted were likely returned, like Cassandra Spender. The Smoking Man must’ve directed those involved to give Samantha to him, instead of returning her to your parents.”

“My father wouldn’t have allowed the tests to continue,” Mulder said confidently, remembering a conversation with Cancer Man he'd had a year ago. “He was against it. It’s why Samantha had been taken from our house, and not the air hangar with the others. I don't think he would have put my sister through those tests all those years.”

Fresh tears formed in his eyes. “Scully?”

“Yes, Mulder,” she answered, stroking her right hand over his face.

“My sister died when I was 18. I was a freshman in college. That was before Oxford, before the FBI, long before you and I met.”

Scully nodded sadly.

“Do you think you’ve wasted all this time with me for nothing?” Mulder asked, the tears brimming over and running down his nose.

She brushed his tears away. “Don’t you remember my speech at the banquet?”

Mulder smiled through his tears, and brought his head down to lay it against her chest, listening to her heart beat. He cried himself to sleep that night. Scully saw that these tears were not like the pained, gut-wrenching sobs from several nights ago following his mother’s suicide. Mulder was grieving his sister’s death, and this was necessary. He needed to mourn her, to face the truth, and let her go.

*****

The following morning, Monday, February 14th, they awoke at 7:40 am to find that Harold Piller had checked out of the motel. He’d left behind no information.

“Where do you think he went?” Mulder asked Scully while he dressed after getting out of the shower.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Let’s turn on the morning news. Maybe there was an earthquake somewhere.”

He smirked sarcastically at her joke, while she grinned in return. After Scully showered and dressed, they checked out of the motel and got into the rental car. While eating breakfast at a nearby diner, Mulder recounted his tale to Scully about what had happened the night before in the woods next to Arbutus Ray’s house. While she felt relieved for Mulder, that he was finally finding some peace of mind over his sister’s fate and coming to terms with what had happened to her, she still felt herself recoil over the idea of walk-ins. What about the other innocent children who hadn’t been saved? Like Emily?

Mulder observed Scully become quieter, and even though she believed him like she said she would, he saw a wall rise up in front of her, hiding her emotions from him. He thought he knew why. An idea sprung to his mind, and he was determined to see it through. After they finished their breakfast and paid for their meal, they walked back out to the rental car, and Mulder got into the driver’s seat.

It was 100 miles to Los Angeles International Airport, where Scully had expected to end up so that they could catch a flight back to D.C. After a short while, she fell asleep in the car. When she woke up, they were nowhere near Los Angeles and she noticed a road sign for Highway 15 South. They weren’t seriously driving towards San Diego, were they?

“Mulder, where are we?”

“We’re about 50 miles outside San Diego,” he replied.

She stared at him. “Why didn’t you drive to LAX?”

Mulder cleared his throat. “I wanted us to come down here again.”

Scully sighed. “Mulder, I want to go home.”

“We will, Scully. There’s just something I want to do first.”

She could see he wasn’t about to elaborate right now, so she dropped it. An hour later, at just past 11:00 am, they were driving through downtown San Diego. It appeared to Scully that he was looking for something as they drove around. Finally, Mulder parked on the curb of a downtown street and told her to wait in the car. He then got out, walking a short distance down the sidewalk, and entered a florist’s shop.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” the shop girl at the counter said as he entered. She looked to be in her early to mid 20’s, she had shoulder-length dark blond hair, and a name tag that read ‘Laura.’ “You here to get something for that someone special?”

Mulder stared at her. Today was Valentine’s Day? Yeah, he supposed it was. He hadn’t celebrated Valentine’s Day in nine years. Was Scully expecting something from him? Should he get her something? Mulder looked around at the Valentine’s decorations all over the shop, the greeting cards, the chocolates, the bouquets of roses. Scully had given him nearly seven years of her life and what was he going to give her in return? A heart-shaped box of chocolates? How fucking ridiculous.

“Can I just get that small bouquet right there?” Mulder said, pointing to the pink flowers behind the counter.

“Ooh, the pink Hydrangeas? That’s a lovely choice.”

Mulder only nodded, and after paying for the flowers, he walked out of the shop and back towards the car. Once he got inside he handed the bouquet to Scully as he put the key in the ignition and started the car.

Scully looked at the pretty flowers. It dawned on her that today was Valentine’s Day. Is that was this was about? These flowers? This last minute trip to San Diego? Scully wasn’t sure how she felt about Mulder getting her something for Valentine’s Day. She hadn’t done anything like this since Daniel. She’d certainly never figured that something as clichéd and overdone as Valentine’s Day would be a factor in her and Mulder’s relationship. What did this even mean?

“Um, Mulder?”

“Yeah, Scully?”

She looked over at him as he glanced at her. “I didn’t think you were someone who was into Valentine’s Day.”

“I’m not,” he chuckled, but then his tone turned serious. “The flowers aren’t for you.”

“Oh,” she chuckled in return. But while she’d been expecting to feel relieved, she was surprised at the sudden feeling of disappointment. Did she want Mulder to bring her flowers? Actually do all the clichéd relationship stuff?

Mulder had seen the brief look of disappointment before she quickly masked it, and an idea formed in his mind. He then drove them through the city, turning onto Imperial Ave and driving into the Home of Peace Cemetery. Scully looked around her in stunned silence as Mulder parked the car, turning off the engine.

“What are we doing here, Mulder?” she demanded. Her stomach was in knots. Despite the fact that she’d never been able to bring herself to actually come here before, she knew who was buried here. While she’d attended the memorial service, having arranged it herself, she’d never been able to visit the grave.

He sighed. “Scully, we both have to let go.”

Mulder gently removed the bouquet of pink flowers from Scully’s hand, and got out of the car, saying “Come on, Scully” before he closed the door.

She sighed, and got out of the car. But as she walked around to stand next to Mulder on the grass, she froze.

“Mulder… I can’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t do it. I can’t go in there.”

“You’re not going in there, Scully. We are.”

And Mulder held out his hand to her.

Scully felt her throat constrict, she fought back tears, but she reached out and took Mulder’s hand. After checking in with the office to get directions to the grave’s location, they walked hand in hand through the cemetery. Mulder thought back to the séance in the Spenders’ house in April Base. Harold had said “They will come to you if you are ready to see,” and the little boy had come to Mulder. Mulder had been ready to see, ready to let go. But Scully hadn’t seen. She wasn’t ready to. There was pain and grief that she hadn’t been able to let go of.

Mulder and Scully soon found themselves standing in front of an engraved headstone which read:

Emily Christine Sim

Beloved daughter

November 1994 – December 1997

Scully was fighting back the tears, fighting hard to suppress the emotions threatening to overpower her, the pain and guilt and anger flooding her stomach. She suddenly had a burning question. She didn’t want to ask it, but it was out of her mouth before she could really stop it.

“Did you see Emily, Mulder?” Scully asked, her voice thick with emotion.

He turned to look at her. He hadn’t expected to see Emily there with the other children, with Amber Lynn LaPierre, with Samantha. “No, Scully.”

She felt anger surge to become the more dominant emotion, and turned to walk away from Mulder and Emily’s grave. Mulder reached out and grabbed her arm, turning her to face him.

“Scully, the walk-ins didn’t need to save Emily. Because you did. You were meant to find her, love her, and save her from a life of suffering.”

She could no longer hold back the tears, and let them fall. Mulder wrapped his arm around her shoulder, holding her tight against him. “Besides, Scully, how do you know there wasn’t spiritual intervention for Emily? What about those phone calls to Bill Jr’s house? And Melissa’s voice on the line telling you to help Emily?”

Scully turned and looked up into Mulder’s face. She’d forgotten about that, or maybe had suppressed it and forced herself to forget. Had God intervened? Had Melissa’s spirit? Or these walk-ins? “Do you really believe that, Mulder?”

He sighed, and looked down into her tear-stained face. “I want to believe, Scully. I want to believe so badly. But I saw my sister, the other children. Maybe there’s a truth that’s hidden from us, that we are just simply unaware of God’s purpose, and all that he does for those who have suffered. Maybe the souls of these children whose lives were cut short are protected, and at peace, out there in the starlight. Maybe they really are just waiting to be born again, returned to earth at God’s bidding, to have another chance at life.”

She wondered at this theory, if it really was true. So many people, including Mulder, had seen some kind of evidence of these walk-ins. Scully turned to look back at the headstone and felt relief, as if a heavy weight that had been holding her down for a long time had suddenly been lifted from her. Mulder handed her the bouquet of pink flowers, and she laid them on Emily’s grave.

“Take me home now, Mulder.”

They then walked back to the car, hand in hand, fingers entwined. As they made their way to San Diego airport, Scully wondered what the future held for them, wondered how this revelation about Samantha would affect Mulder in the long-term, whether he would be truly able to let go, whether they had any chance of settling down and living something like a normal life.


	61. "Unlike you Mulder, I would like to have a life."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder reflects on Samantha and his newfound peace of mind. He then drags Scully back out to California, twice, leading her to reflect on the present state of her life. Mulder and Scully spend a weekend in Quonochontaug.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fireflight – “Wrapped In Your Arms”
> 
> Is this the whole picture  
> Or is it just the start  
> Is this the way you love me  
> You're capturing my heart  
> I used to try and walk alone  
> But I've begun to grow  
> And when you tell me just to rest  
> I'm finally letting go  
> I let go
> 
> And I'm here to stay  
> Nothing can separate us  
> And I know, I'm okay  
> You cradle me gently  
> Wrapped in your arms, I'm home
> 
> I'm seeing so much clearer  
> Looking through your eyes  
> I could never find a safer place  
> Even if I tried  
> All the times I've needed you  
> You've never left my side  
> I'm clinging to your every word  
> Don't ever let me go  
> Don't let go
> 
> And I'm here to stay  
> Nothing can separate us  
> And I know, I'm okay  
> You cradle me gently  
> Wrapped in your arms, I'm home  
> I'm home, I'm wrapped in your arms
> 
> And I'm here to stay  
> Nothing can separate us  
> And I know, I'm okay  
> You cradle me gently  
> Wrapped in your arms  
> And I'm here to stay  
> Nothing can separate us  
> And I know, I'm okay  
> You cradle me gently  
> Wrapped in your arms, I'm home  
> I'm home

While waiting at their gate at the San Diego airport on Monday, February 14th, Scully sat and watched Mulder standing off by the wall, on the phone. After sitting down with her he’d pulled out his cell phone and grumbled about voicemails, and then stood up to walk away from the crowd of people gathered at the gate. She watched him listen to the messages and make several phone calls, but she wasn’t sure what they were about. She supposed they had something to do with the LaPierres or maybe even Harold Piller. After about 15 minutes, she watched Mulder hang up a call on his phone. He then looked over at her and their eyes met, he grinned and she smiled in return, and then he got back on the phone. Five minutes later he returned to his seat next to her.

“I’m taking the next two weeks off,” he told her. “But Skinner wants a report on our findings for the Amber Lynn LaPierre case by Friday.”

Scully sighed. “I have no idea what to even say about it. Ed Truelove didn’t murder her.”

“No, but he was going to. And they’re never gonna find that girl’s body, Scully. We can at least ensure that our report clearly points out the LaPierres’ innocence.”

She nodded, but she still wasn’t exactly sure how they were going to write that up.

“I also had a call from my mother’s real estate agent,” Mulder added. “Apparently she’d put the house in Quonochontaug up for sale right after Christmas, and there’s an extremely interested buyer from Boston who wants to take a look at it sometime in the next couple weeks. The agent said that if this guy likes it, it’ll be a cash sale. Not gonna pass that up.” He then sighed, rubbing his hand into his tired eyes. “I was going to make arrangements for my mother’s funeral, but her lawyer just informed me that her will and testament clearly states she doesn’t want one. She just wants to be buried in the family plot in North Carolina.”

“Then it’s good you’re actually taking some time away from work, Mulder. You’re gonna need time to deal with everything.”

Mulder had been debating about asking her something, and hoped it didn’t come across the wrong way. “Um, Scully…”

“Yeah?” she replied, re-crossing her black dress pant-covered legs to turn in his direction.

He paused. “When we, uh, get back to D.C., I think, maybe, I should focus on taking care of all this stuff. So, I, uh, probably won’t be around for a little while. Is that, uh… is that okay?”

“Of course, Mulder,” Scully sighed, gently rubbing his forearm with her hand reassuringly. “I’m sure you want to be alone. It’s okay.”

Mulder nodded, but now that he’d asked her he was having second thoughts. The search for his sister had been such a single-minded, solitary crusade, but recent events showed him that Scully had been just as determined as him to find out the truth. Of course, she had no real personal attachment to his sister, but she did it for him. Scully had wanted him to stop, she wanted the pain to end. Now that this painful search had come to an end, what now? What did this mean for him? For his partnership with Scully?

He knew he’d needed Scully for his quest, for his work. Mulder had fervently told her so, nearly two years ago in his hallway. But he’d never actually admitted to himself, and especially not to her, that he needed her in a personal way. He’d been alone so long, with only himself to care for, a private life only containing one solitary person, himself, that the idea of needing someone else was foreign to him. He hadn’t actually needed anyone since he was a child. Since his sister’s abduction he started taking care of himself, and since then never really had to take care of anyone else.

Did he really want to be alone right now? Did he want to deal with everything by himself? Didn’t he want Scully around? Didn’t he need her? Maybe he just had a hard time telling her that he did. Did he want to tell her that? He’d never really needed anyone before. It had been easier to be alone, to rely solely on himself; it was his nature. Did Scully even want to hear that from him? He somehow doubted that she did. But truthfully, Mulder needed her all the time. He needed her when he went to bed at night, and he needed her when he woke up in the morning. He needed her around in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the X-Files. It was scary, needing someone that much. He just didn’t know how to tell her so, and he wasn’t so sure that Scully wanted him to need her this much. He wished it was easier to figure out what she really wanted from him, needed from him. He knew she’d wanted him to stop the painful, obsessive search for Samantha, but did Scully want him to stop working on the X-Files altogether? Maybe she did, now that he thought about it. The search for his sister had come to an end, but was he really done with the work? Wasn’t concrete proof of the paranormal, hard evidence of the supernatural something he wanted to attain? But someday the X-Files would be over, it couldn’t go on for the rest of their lives. Someday there would be an end. And then what? When they are no longer partners, when the work stops, what would they do?

As much as he’d opened up to Scully physically over the past several months, he knew he held back emotionally. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to get so wrapped up in what was happening between them, that he lost sight of his cause, his work. Because he knew his nature, one obsession could easily be traded in for another. He could’ve lost sight of his purpose, finding his sister, if he gave himself over completely to Scully. But the search for Samantha was over, and yet, Mulder still felt himself holding back. Maybe he held back because he could see that Scully held back too. Maybe because he had no idea what Scully wanted from him. Maybe because he still recoiled from the idea of defining this thing between them. Maybe because he had no idea how to simply be. Who was he without the X-Files? They were his life.

After boarding the 2:05 pm nonstop flight from San Diego to Washington, D.C., landing at 9:55 pm local time, they each made their separate ways back home. Mulder stepped through his apartment door and was greeted by the darkness inside, lit only by the moon and city lights outside his living room window. He half-expected to suddenly see Samantha appear to him, but chastised himself and pushed that thought away. But after showering, and changing into a Knicks t-shirt and gray sweatpants, he couldn’t sleep, and so he found himself standing in his darkened living room, staring out the window to the quiet street outside.

Was he still looking for her? Maybe. But he knew he’d never see her again. Mulder was okay with that. His sister was dead, and that was okay. Everything was all right. Mulder didn’t have to save her, and knew that he never could have. For her to have lived long enough in order for him to finally be in a position to actually save her, she would’ve had to endured decades of suffering at the hands of the Consortium. She had already suffered so much in so short a time. Her diary entries were bitter and angry, full of pain and sadness. She’d become him, to a certain extent, but suffered way more than he ever had to.

So, Mulder knew it was better this way. Samantha had stopped suffering a long time ago. She’d spent the past 20 years at peace, protected from the evils that would have befallen her. She was free, and so was he. With just one look, one smile, and her hands caressing his face, Samantha freed Mulder of the guilt he’d been carrying around with him for so long. She’d needed him to understand that she knew, she knew how much he loved her, missed her, how much he wished he could’ve done something to prevent what had happened to her, how badly he’d wanted to save her. She knew all that, and with just one look he knew that she did. He was free.

But he still wondered about Samantha’s life with the Spenders. Was Cassandra a loving mother to her? How much was Cassandra even around? Mulder knew she was frequently abducted and tested on, and that Jeffrey Spender had spent most of his childhood without his mother around for prolonged periods of time. Mulder sighed, remembering Jeffrey Spender. His blood had been found on the floor of Mulder’s basement office, but there was no body. No one had seen or heard of Spender since. The only times Samantha seemed happy in her diary entries was when talking of her younger brother, Jeffrey. While Samantha had begun to have doubts about whether this family she was living with was actually her real family, Jeffrey was a good brother to her and she adored him. But in the end, even her love for Jeffrey couldn’t stop Samantha from wanting to run away, the tests were so horrible. There were still unanswered questions about Samantha’s life, but Mulder didn’t care anymore. His sister wanted him to let go, and he was going to.

Mulder stood there at his living room window, wondering whether or not to have a memorial service for Samantha. He wouldn’t know how to go about it, really. He didn’t belong to any church. Growing up, his mother taught Mulder and his sister her faith, listened to their prayers at night before she tucked them into bed, took them to church every Sunday. But after Samantha’s abduction, Mulder cursed God and his faith plummeted into nonexistence. His mother stopped telling him to say his prayers, stopped taking him to church. There was no longer any reason to believe. How could there be a God if his sister was taken from him? How could God hurt his sister and make him suffer?

But God didn’t hurt his sister. They did. The Smoking Man and his cronies. God saved her from her misery, and Samantha was now at peace. Now Mulder could close the door on this, and yet he could sense another one opening. He didn’t know what was beyond this door, but he knew Scully was there. Mulder could now truly appreciate how precious life was, and he was alive. So was Scully. Their time wasn’t over yet. They still had a lot of life to live, and they had all the time in the world. They had all eternity in front of them, because now Mulder believed there was life after this one. And whether in this life, or the next, he believed they would never be parted.

Mulder then smiled to himself, wondering about Scully’s reaction to his surprise.

*****

When Scully arrived home from the airport and approached her apartment, she’d found a large bouquet of red and white roses sitting outside her door. Where had these come from? She picked up the vase and flowers, unlocking her apartment door and stepping inside. After closing and locking the door behind her, she set the vase down on her dining table and stared at it. Mulder had said that morning that he wasn’t into Valentine’s Day. So who could these be from? Maybe they were delivered to the wrong apartment. She pulled out the attached card, and opened it.

“Throughout history, the rose has been a highly complex symbol. In alchemy, the red rose and the white rose are well-known symbols of the solar and lunar. The rose has often had opposing meanings, some of heavenly perfection and purity, others of earthly passion. The rose can depict time and eternity, fertility and virginity, life and death. The red and white rose, when used together, symbolize fire and water, the union of perfect opposites.”

Scully rolled her eyes, but smiled and felt herself blush. There was no name signed on the card, but who else would it be from? Who else would give her a lesson in medieval alchemy in a card attached to a dozen roses? Who else was her perfect opposite?

She hoped that Mulder would soon be ready to move on from this quest that had controlled his life for so many years. She hoped that Mulder would be able to sit still, enjoy life, and maybe even desire a real one, one that resembled some form of domesticity. Scully thought back to the other morning when her and Mulder brushed their teeth together, and smiled. It was so normal, so mundane, but yet it was small things like that which surprisingly excited her. Maybe her future wasn’t just one huge X-File. Maybe Mulder would want to slow down now that he’d gotten some closure, finally get out of the damn car, and live a little. A clichéd vase of roses on Valentine’s Day, with all its implied normalcy, but coupled with a card filled with his sagacity instead of romantic mush, gave her hope that an ordinary life with the Mulder she loved might be possible.

*****

It was almost 8:00 am on Sunday, February 20th, and Scully found herself in the shower of her motel room near the airport in Los Angeles, California. Mulder had dragged her out here to spend the full moon looking for a werewolf. Whatever happened to him taking two weeks off? He’d shown up at her apartment on Saturday afternoon, after not having spoken to him since Monday night at the Dulles airport, telling her to quickly pack a bag and go with him to Los Angeles. She’d wasted yet another precious weekend chasing monsters. God, why does she continue to let him do this to her? And to top it all off, the FOX network’s _Cops_ camera crew followed them around the entire time once the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department got involved. Mulder charmed the camera crew, loving the attention, and instead of the crew sticking solely with the deputies, they attached themselves and their cameras to her and Mulder as well. Scully was thoroughly embarrassed by the cameras, not to mention irritated by Mulder's behavior, and hoped the footage would never air on television. What would her family say? Her co-workers? Skinner and the other Assistant Directors? Or even the Deputy Director?

After stepping out of the shower and drying off, she slipped on her knee-length light blue cloth robe and walked back out to the motel room to find Mulder laying on her bed in his black boxer briefs, watching the news. She frowned. Why in the world did she agree to adjoining rooms? Yesterday she’d rationalized that the case would be over once the full moon was gone, and maybe they wouldn’t have to spend any time in the motel at all, that they’d be able to get on the earliest flight possible back to Washington. No such luck. They had to wait around for the 4:00 pm flight.

He looked up at her and grinned at her annoyed expression. Despite her exhaustion and annoyance, as Scully’s eyes roamed over Mulder’s form reclining on the bed, his muscular arms, firm chest with the perfect amount of sparse chest hair, flat stomach, the form-fitting black boxers hiding the goods beneath, his long and toned legs, her heart pounded and she felt blood rush to her groin. She sighed and resignedly climbed up onto the bed next to Mulder.

He handed her a business card with the name Patrick Camden. “What’s this, Mulder?”

“Patrick was one of the cameramen, Scully. And he wanted me to give this to you. Wants you to look him up next time you’re in L.A.”

She stared at the card, and scoffed. “You’re not serious.”

Mulder chuckled as she handed him back the card. “Maybe we could use his services someday. Finally make that honeymoon video.”

Scully glared at him. “You’re hilarious.”

He grinned at her as she slid down until her head was on the pillow, sighing as her back lay flat against the mattress, thankful the cheap motel had a comfortable bed.

“You tired, Scully?”

“Yes,” she evenly responded to his suggestive tone, refusing to look at him.

“Hmm… how tired?” Mulder asked as he slid down to lay on his side next to her, his fingers going to the belt of her robe.

“I’m exhausted,” Scully replied, but couldn’t stop herself from grinning as he undid the belt and pushed her robe apart.

“Too exhausted for this?” Mulder asked as his head bent over her exposed breasts, and he sucked a pink nipple into his mouth.

The moan that escaped her throat was her only reply, and that was all the encouragement Mulder needed. He laved over her areola, as her nipple hardened against his tongue, before sucking it greedily back into his mouth, scraping his teeth against the taut pink nub. His hand went to her neglected breast and squeezed, relishing how its weight fit perfectly in his palm, before rolling the hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Scully’s hands gripped Mulder’s hair, and soon her hips were squirming, her clit was throbbing, her center becoming drenched as her wetness flowed out of her. She tried to move, so she could reach Mulder’s body and give him the same worshipful attention, but he wouldn’t budge. Scully thought that if her and Mulder hadn’t been friends for so many years before this recent physical development to their partnership, she would’ve assumed that he loved her only for her body.

Mulder then lifted his head from Scully’s breasts in search of her mouth, and as his lips passionately devoured hers, she took her chance and shoved him over until he was laying on his back. She straddled his pelvis and removed her robe, tossing it to the floor. Mulder’s hands went to her hips, her waist, caressing her soft skin. Scully leaned over and kissed him soundly, before moving her lips to suckle at his neck, sliding down to his collar bone, before dragging her tongue across his sensitive nipples and grinding her center over his erection.

He groaned, his hard cock straining inside his boxers. Suddenly Mulder knew exactly what he wanted. “Scully, get up here.”

She lifted her mouth from his chest, as his hands went to her hips and he started sliding her body up his abdomen. Scully started breathing even heavier, and the muscles in the pit of her stomach clenched. She scooched up farther, helping Mulder pull her up towards her destination, his hands squeezing her ass.

She pressed her hot, wet center into Mulder’s chest. “Is this where you want me?”

He grinned up at her coy expression looking down at him. “You’re not quite there yet.”

Scully shifted, raising herself and planting her knees on either side of Mulder’s head, and started panting in anticipation.

“Yeah, right there,” Mulder whispered, looking up at her swollen, glistening pink center. His hands slowly moved up the outside of her thighs to her hips, as he breathed in her heady scent. “And Scully, no holding back this time.”

“Mulder…” She swallowed. This position had usually caused her some sort of anxiety, and she was glad he didn’t insist on it all that often. They’d only done it a few times. She would find herself worrying that her ass was so close to Mulder’s face, not that it wasn’t when he went down on her, but this had always seemed kind of awkward. She also would worry that Mulder couldn’t breathe or that she'd hurt him, and so when she orgasmed she would pull away from him, not wanting to smother him.

“I’m serious,” Mulder said in a low voice. “I want you to come all over my face.”

He then grabbed her ass and pulled her cunt down to his mouth. She was hot and wet, her soft and swollen folds felt so good against his tongue, and he groaned at her taste, his hips involuntarily thrusting upwards off the mattress. It had seemed like forever since he’d tasted her.

“Jesus Christ,” Scully whispered, the feel of his tongue against her sensitive skin sending sparks of pleasure through her brain. Mulder could hear her fingernails clutch at the headboard.

He probed his tongue deeper into her folds, and found more of her delicious taste seeping out from her entrance, and circled it with his tongue. He then thrust his tongue into her cunt, sliding in and out, taking deep breaths through his nose. He grinned against her as he watched her clit become even more engorged.

Scully was whimpering, and trying to shift her hips to bring her clit closer to Mulder’s mouth, but his hands had a firm grip on her. “Mulder, please…”

He pulled his mouth away from where his tongue was dipping in and out of her opening. “What?”

“You know what.”

“I wanna hear you say it.”

She sighed. “Suck my clit, Mulder.”

“You mean this thing right here?” he said, as he slid his tongue up to stroke against her hardened bundle of nerves.

“Yes,” Scully moaned, her head lolling back. “That thing right there.”

Mulder gripped her hips. “I was serious. Don’t hold back.”

“I won’t,” she whispered, impatiently. “God, just do it.”

He chuckled, but then she pressed herself down harder against him and he groaned, his cock throbbing. This is what he wanted. He wanted to lose himself inside her, his mouth buried in her cunt, her fragrant arousal and her sweet taste making his head swim.

Mulder began running the tip of his tongue in circles around her swollen clit, and soon she was panting and moaning, her sounds loud and clear even though her legs were pressed against his ears. He stroked her clit harder and faster, alternating between sucking the engorged bud between his lips and stroking it in circles with his tongue.

Scully began rocking her hips against him, and his face was covered in her wetness. This was what Mulder wanted. He wanted her all over him. His cock was throbbing against his boxers, his balls tightening as streaks of pleasure shot out across his groin, and he was thrusting up off the mattress. He was about to lose it, he was going to explode, but he didn’t give a damn right now.

“Mulder… Mulder… Mulder…” Scully was now whimpering his name over and over again, and he knew this meant she was about to come.

Scully felt the tension building and building as Mulder’s tongue stroked her throbbing clit, and then sucked it between his lips. His tongue was swirling around her clit in a tight circle and she felt her orgasm on the verge. Her body went rigid, preparing for the release, and then Mulder’s lips encircled around her clit, sucking hard, grazing his teeth against it, and she cried out in ecstasy.

Mulder maintained his firm hold on her as she ground her hips hard over him, not pulling away this time, and rode out her orgasm against his face as he lapped up her fresh wetness. The harder her cunt pressed into his face, as she rubbed her clit against him, the more her orgasmic juices flowed against his mouth, the more his cock throbbed. Soon the aching throb of his engorged cock was unbearable, no longer able to handle the pressure in his balls, and suddenly he was coming inside his boxer briefs.

"Fuck, Scully," he moaned against her cunt, his hips quivering with tremors, his hands continuing to caress and squeeze her ass.

“Oh, God,” Scully sighed, lifting herself away from Mulder’s face as she came down off her high. She shifted back down his body, laying down on top of him.

“My name is Mulder,” he quipped, gazing into the beautiful blue shade of her irises.

She snorted, looking down at his swollen lips and her wetness on his chin. She leaned down to kiss him, but paused just as her lips brushed against his. “You’re fucking ridiculous,” Scully whispered, before capturing his lips with hers, tasting herself on his mouth.

He chuckled, and then broke the kiss. “I guess you weren’t all that tired.”

“But I am now,” she said as she slid off his body to lay down next to him, curling up against his side.

“I still think we should make that honeymoon video, Scully.”

“In your dreams, Mulder.”

"Think about it, Scully. You could wear a bubblegum pink wig."

She groaned, her annoyance and exasperation from earlier returning, and she rolled away from him to lay on her side with her back to him.

*****

At 3:25 on Friday afternoon, February 25th, Mulder and Scully were departing Skinner’s office. They had just reviewed their case report on the First Person Shooter development company. Scully had been irritated through that entire case, irritated when writing up the report, and irritated when discussing it with Skinner. She was tired of this constant traveling back and forth between D.C. and California they’d been doing lately. She hoped their next case was closer to home.

Deep down, Scully was frustrated that Mulder hadn’t taken time off like he said he would. She was frustrated that following his mother’s suicide and the realization of his sister’s death, and the end of the crusade that’s driven him all these years, that he didn’t take more time to process everything. He took four days to himself, and then jumped right back into the thick of it to chase after a supposed werewolf in one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in Los Angeles. Scully had been none too pleased. And then she had to go back out to California, again, to investigate immature men getting their ya-yas out by playing video games, Mulder included.

Is this what her life had become? Is this the work she was going to be stuck with from now on? There was no government conspiracy involving aliens going on anymore, and Samantha was no longer missing. Yet, Mulder seemed more gung ho than ever about the X-Files. Was she ever going to have a life before she was too old to really enjoy one? When was Mulder going to decide he’d had enough, done enough, accomplished enough, and walk away from the X-Files? Scully did notice that he had been different since the night he grieved Samantha’s death in that Victorville motel room. He was more calm, more relaxed somehow. He smiled more. She kept waiting for him to crack and break down, but it wasn’t happening.

Mulder seemed happier than ever, but as she sat in her motel room on Tuesday night in Los Angeles she felt frustrated and miserable. She was sitting in yet another stale, impersonal motel room with old dresser drawers that put up a fight when you try to open them, the yellowed stationary and envelopes that no longer stick on the creaky desk, the Gideon Bible and telephone book in the bedside table drawer. She’d been here before. In countless states and towns across the country. Everything was the same. Except her.

Scully wasn’t happy with the way things were. She wanted things to change. She wanted a life. A life that didn’t involve constant traveling on airplanes with their uncomfortable seats, cramped legroom, and shitty food. A life that didn’t involve flea trap motels in Podunk towns a hundred miles from civilization. A life that didn’t involve risking her neck for every monster out there, human, supernatural, or computer-generated.

A desperate part of her wanted to demand change from Mulder, maybe even make an ultimatum. But she was afraid. This fear was not about losing control or displaying her emotions, it was fear that Mulder would not welcome change, that he did not want it and never would. She was afraid that if forced to choose, Mulder would actually prefer a dangerous life with the X-Files than a quieter life with her.

As she sat across from Mulder at the desk in their basement office, Scully suddenly wanted to hate him. He was predictable, and he never expected too much from her, or from anyone, and therefore never could be disappointed. He was complacent, and calmly accepted the present status quo of their partnership. Of course, in a lot of ways he was also completely unpredictable. Like taking her to Emily’s grave, getting her a dozen roses, humming “California Love” as they drove around Inland Empire, sliding his thumb into her asshole.

Scully sat there at the desk wanting nothing more than to disrupt Mulder’s languid email-reading and… What? Have her way with him in the office? That would be a real change from the status quo. Declare she was in love with him and wished she could have his brown-haired babies? Announce that she was fucking sick of the X-Files and wanted to quit? Demand that he walk away from the FBI with her? Demand that they move to the suburbs so she could plant a flower garden while he mows the lawn? _What do you fucking want, Dana?!_ She didn’t know. But she did know that she couldn’t live like this anymore.

Mulder turned from the computer monitor to look at her. “My mom’s realtor said the potential buyer from Boston, the guy who’s interested in the summerhouse in Quonochontaug, wants to come down on Monday and look at the house.”

She nodded, pursing her lips.

He cleared his throat. “Would you, uh, like to spend the weekend up there with me? I’ll need to get the house ready.”

Scully’s eyes widened, and licked her lips, thinking. That sounded so… normal. “Spend the weekend in Rhode Island? Just cleaning up your parents’ old beach house?”

Mulder chuckled. “I know it isn’t that exciting, Scully, and it probably won’t be relaxing or anything, but we’d at least be getting out of the city for a while. We could drive up there this evening, maybe even leave the office early.”

“No, no. That’s, um… that sounds great, actually. I’d like that.”

She wondered if Mulder was more apt to accept baby steps towards domesticity, towards normalcy, than outright demands for an immediate, complete change. But she also wondered just how much longer she'd have to wait until he was ready to leave this restless, dangerous life behind.

*****

After leaving their basement office at 4:00 pm on Friday afternoon, and following a brief stop at Scully’s apartment in Georgetown so she could grab her weekender bag, Mulder drove them north to Quonochontaug, Rhode Island. The drive took over six hours, including the short stop at the Maryland/Delaware border to grab something to eat, and they’d arrived at the summerhouse at 11:45 pm. Mulder and Scully made their way inside the house, and after removing the plastic off a bed, they crashed onto the mattress.

He was exhausted from driving, but not long after removing their clothing, Scully was straddling Mulder’s pelvis and lowering her wet cunt over his hard cock. They christened the master bedroom as she rode him hard, stroking that sensitive spot in her front wall and grinding her clit against his pubic bone. Her moans and the sound of his name crying out from her lips reverberated off the walls, as he watched her perfectly round breasts bounce with every movement of her hips, his own orgasmic release soon following hers, the force of it causing him to call out her name in delirious ecstasy.

On Saturday morning, February 26th, Mulder awoke in the master bedroom in the summerhouse on West Beach Road in Quonochontaug. He wasn’t sure what had woken him up. The sun had yet to really rise. The cold light of morning creeping in through the window was still gray, and so Mulder knew it must be very early. Maybe it was the absence of city noise around him, or it was the old, lumpy mattress of the strange bed that wasn’t his. But as Mulder turned to lie on his side, his hand sliding out across said lumpy mattress, he found the space next to him was empty. He blinked himself fully awake. This is probably what had woken him up: the lack of a petite warm body nuzzled against him.

One of the things that had most surprised Mulder once this physical relationship between him and Scully started almost five months ago, was that after sleeping alone for eight years, it took an alarmingly short time for him to get used to sleeping next to someone else. Now, it was the absence of Scully’s body in the bed next to him that startled him awake. Sleeping alone had become foreign, but he also realized that he did sleep alone more often lately.

In the first few months of this thing between them, Mulder and Scully rarely spent a night apart. He was always at her apartment, every night, and eventually she started staying at his. And there had been sex, so much sex. But since the second IVF failure, they would often go several days without spending any time together outside of work. Of course, a lot of heavy stuff had happened since then: Donnie Pfaster, Mulder’s snake attack, his mother’s suicide, learning Samantha’s fate. He wanted to put all that behind them.

As Mulder sat up in bed, he breathed in the scent of coffee in the air. Wonderful. He got up, pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt, and after a brief pit stop in the bathroom, made his way downstairs to the kitchen. He hadn’t seen Scully in his travel through the house. The kitchen was dark, lit only by the small light in the range over the stove. Mulder grabbed a ceramic mug from one of the cabinets, and poured himself some hot coffee. He then went to look for Scully.

He found her standing on the back porch, leaning against a wooden post, coffee mug in hand, staring out at the inlet which connected the Atlantic Ocean to Quonochontaug Pond. The water wasn’t clearly visible through the trees, but the soft sounds of flowing water could be heard as well as the sea breeze sweeping through the wind chimes hanging from the porch. Scully had on a pair of gray ankle socks and his navy blue sweatshirt, which ended halfway down her thighs. She looked so damn good wearing his clothes, and he felt a rush of arousal at his groin.

“Scully, it’s freezing out here. Why don’t you come inside?” Mulder said as he opened the screen door.

She turned to look at him, and smiled. “It’s not that cold, Mulder.”

He stepped out onto the porch, and immediately wished he’d put on socks too. The floor was cold, but it was also gritty. He sighed, remembering why exactly they had come up here. The house needed a hell of a lot of cleaning.

Scully gave him another smile, and then turned her attention back to the water. “It’s so quiet and peaceful here, Mulder. I used to think it would be impossible to live anywhere but a big city, but now I’m not so sure. It almost seems like nothing bad could ever happen in a quiet place like this.”

Mulder scoffed. “Do you know how many terrible things have happened in this house, Scully? I mean, the last time you and I were here together I pointed my gun at you.”

There was a pause, as Mulder recalled that horrible night, the house surrounded by law enforcement, and Scully trying to talk him down from his drug-induced mania. He’d accessed valuable memories he’d buried, but at what cost? What if he’d pulled the trigger when his gun had been aimed at her instead of the ceiling?

She sighed. “I guess you’re right. Peace doesn’t come from a place. It comes from the people who live there.”

He leaned back against the wall of the house, watching Scully look out over the water. The people who live there. Well, the people who lived here didn’t much attribute to any peace. Mulder remembered loud, late night arguments, no doubt influenced by scotch or gin, which would send a tearful, frightened Samantha into his bedroom. Mulder was scared too, the sound of his parents fighting always making his guts churn in fear, but he had to be the strong one for his little sister. Every weekend, in those hot summers spent in Quonochontaug, Samantha fell asleep next to him in his room.

Mulder’s father only came down on the weekends, thankfully. Not that Mulder hadn’t wanted his dad around, he did. His father would always take him and Samantha fishing every Saturday, and on Saturday nights his dad would let him and Samantha stay up to watch _Mission: Impossible_. On Sundays after church, his dad would take Mulder and Samantha to get ice cream on their way to the beach. They would then spend the evening sitting in the living room as a family watching _The Wonderful World of Disney_ and the NBC Sunday Night Mystery Movie. But the arguments between his parents, which started as bickering at the dinner table and became full-fledged fighting once Mulder and Samantha had gone to bed, was agonizing.

And then there was Thanksgiving weekend, 1973. They’d come down to Quonochontaug to celebrate the holiday. The Smoking Man showed up, maybe Friday or Saturday night, and Samantha had been woken up by the sounds of the adults fighting downstairs. She’d come into Mulder’s room to wake him up, told him she was afraid. He crept downstairs to see his mother crying and yelling at his father, until Cancer Man called him a little spy. Mulder then returned to his bedroom, but not before seeing that devil grab his mother by the arm, demanding something of her. Mulder knew now what had been demanded of his mother: her compliance. But she didn’t give it, refused to give in to their demands to surrender one of her children. Yes, terrible things had happened in this house.

Scully turned to look at Mulder, and he assumed she’d ascertained what his prolonged silence meant. He watched her set her empty coffee mug on the wide railing, and walk towards him. He grinned down at her as she slid her arms around his waist, pressing her body into his.

“Maybe we can make some good memories here before you hand over the house to another family,” Scully whispered.

Mulder bent his head down to capture her lips, registering her taste of coffee and minty toothpaste as he slid his tongue into her mouth. He felt himself instantly growing hard against her. Mulder set his coffee mug down on the windowsill to his left, and then grabbed Scully’s ass, lifting her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She kissed him passionately as he moved them back inside the house to the living room, laying her down on top of the plastic-covered sofa.

“Why did we even bother getting dressed?” Scully muttered as Mulder pulled her white cotton panties down and off her legs.

He chuckled before burying his face between her legs at her wet center, and then proceeded to stroke, thrust, nibble, and suck until her engorged clit throbbed with pleasure and her load moans filled the quiet living room. Mulder felt so adolescent, doing this on the couch in his parents’ house. This couch, where the Smoking Man had sat drinking cocktails with his mother every Tuesday night, Mulder suddenly remembered. He knew it was on Tuesdays because his mother would send him and Samantha to bed after _Hawaii Five-O_ and “your father’s friend from work” would be sitting on this couch with his mother. Yes, it was him. The Smoking Man. He’d come for dinner every Tuesday. Did Mulder ever tell his father about this weekly guest at the summerhouse, or did his mother tell them not to say anything? He couldn’t remember.

Mulder hurriedly pushed this newfound memory away as he lifted Scully’s legs over his shoulders and positioned himself at her opening, but he waited. He liked to make her insane with need. But then he watched as Scully smirked up at him, reaching down to stroke his cock, and he groaned as she brought her hand up to her face and licked his precum off her palm. God, she drove him crazy. He couldn’t wait anymore. He then slid his hard cock, throbbing with need, into her cunt to the hilt in one fluid motion. The ghosts of painful memories vanished and all Mulder could focus on was how good Scully felt around him. God, she was so wet and so hot. And so fucking tight. He told her so and she moaned. His cock throbbed with pleasure with each thrust, her cunt gripping him like the tightest, hottest fist imaginable. Mulder felt her body go rigid beneath him and her fingernails dig into his back, and moved his arm around Scully’s leg to press his right thumb down hard on her swollen clit, rubbing in tight circles. Almost immediately the muscles in her wet cunt were clenching around him, as he watched Scully’s eyes roll to the back of her head, a haze of pleasure clouding her features and screams of ecstasy escaping her throat. Mulder then picked up the pace, grabbing her hips and pounding into her, his throbbing cock eager for release. His brain was fuzzy and he was only partially aware that he was muttering words as his forehead hung over Scully’s. The muscles in his ass contracted as his balls tightened, streaks of pleasure shooting out across his groin to his thighs and the pit of his stomach. Then Mulder’s eyes slammed shut and he moaned as the tension in his balls released, and he was coming hard, his hot seed gushing inside Scully’s cunt.

“I think I’m stuck to the plastic,” she quipped, still breathing hard.

Mulder started laughing.

For the rest of the weekend, they removed the plastic coverings from the furniture throughout the house, dusted and vacuumed, laundered the sheets and bedding. Their work, however, was frequently interrupted, but Mulder couldn’t help it. The way Scully’s tight black leggings hugged her perfect ass while she bent over to slide a piece of furniture, or the way her breasts strained against her cotton shirt as she reached to dust a shelf, the muscles in her firm arm extending. He would find himself staring at her, and then he’d find himself instantly hard. They christened almost every room, replacing his terrible memories of this house with much better ones.

Mulder’s favorite new memory was Saturday evening. He had gone to the supermarket and brought back frozen Alaskan king crab legs for their dinner. He’d stood in the kitchen watching Scully fill a pot with cold water and place it on the stove to boil. After rinsing off the crab legs and setting them aside on a large plate on the kitchen counter, Mulder took two of them and did his own version of Charlie Chaplin’s table ballet. Scully was giggling so hard she had to wipe the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Once the water started boiling, she’d thrown in some salt, juice from a whole lemon she’d squeezed, and a heaping tablespoon of the Old Bay seasoning she’d instructed him to buy at the store. Scully then boiled the crab legs for five minutes. While the crab legs cooked, Mulder watched her prepare clarified butter.

They sat at the kitchen table together, breaking their crab legs open with nutcrackers and dipping the meat into the butter, enjoying the fresh, clean seafood flavor, laughing the whole time. When was the last time anyone laughed in this house? Not since the childish laughter of him and his sister reverberated against the walls. When was the last time sitting around this table was something enjoyable, and not two children, stomachs knotted, watching their parents bicker across the table during the evening meal?

When finished, Mulder found himself once again pushing away painful memories as they brought their plates into the kitchen, setting them on the sink, and dropped the crab shells into the trash can. Mulder stood next to Scully as she reached up to grab a glass from one of the cabinets. Her face was only inches from his, her cheeks still flushed from the heat in the kitchen, her lips pink and plump, slightly parted, and her body warm and supple against his. Mulder stared at her, his cock hardening inside his jeans. They’d already had sex twice that day, not to mention a third time if counting midnight the night before when they’d first arrived. Was this normal for a man on the verge of turning 40?

He didn’t care whether it was normal or not, and when Scully turned to face him after grabbing hold of a glass, Mulder’s mouth was on hers. Moments later, she was sitting on the kitchen counter, leggings and underwear having been frantically removed, her legs wrapped around his hips, while his jeans and boxers bunched at his ankles. Mulder kept his head bent, watching his engorged cock thrust in and slide out of Scully’s hot center, as it disappeared past her short auburn curls into her tight cunt and reemerged slick and wet with her juices. He felt primal, feral, and they both came hard simultaneously, their loud moans and cries filling the kitchen, as they clung to each other tightly, breathing hard.

The ghosts of memories past were beaten back, and the kitchen now smelled like their arousal. Good memories had replaced some bad ones. Sunday was much of the same, cleaning and airing out the house, Mulder getting an erection when Scully stood on top of a chair to hang up the laundered curtains and fucking her on the carpeted floor of the living room.

“When this buyer walks in here, he’s gonna smell nothing but sex,” Scully said after she’d collapsed on top of his chest.

“Good, maybe he’ll offer more money,” Mulder quipped, as he caressed his hands up and down her back.

Scully started giggling.

Late on Sunday afternoon, February 27th, they locked up the clean house, ready for the realtor to show it on Monday, and started on the six-hour drive back to D.C. Mulder had thoroughly enjoyed this weekend with Scully, despite that fact that he had initially assumed the weekend in Quonochontaug would be nothing but depressing. But he hadn’t counted on the fact that he’d have his best friend with him the entire time.

As Mulder merged his car onto I-95 South, crossing into New York, he reached out to the passenger seat and grabbed Scully’s left hand, which had been laying on her lap, and threaded their fingers. “Thank you. For coming up there with me.”

She smiled at him. A real smile. He could see her teeth. Those smiles were rare. He wished he could see them more often. “You know, you’ll have to go up there again, Mulder. Once you sell it. Going through the house, sorting everything, and packing up boxes will be a chore.”

Mulder nodded, smiling back at her. “It won’t be such a chore if you’re with me.”

Scully smiled again, wide, with teeth. He felt his heart swell. “And I’m sure we could find ways of having fun, Scully, so it’s not so much of a chore.”

She started chuckling, and nodded as she licked her lips before turning her attention back to the window. Mulder drove back to Washington a happy man. He was finally letting go of his past, the bad memories, the pain and the loss. And he felt anxious to get back to work with his new lease on life, excited for what was yet to come.


	62. "I'll always keep you guessing."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder thinks about another IVF attempt, and the future. Scully puts herself in someone else's shoes, and ponders 'what if.' Mulder and Scully then make a decision. 
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material, including some non-vanilla sex. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of the episode "Theef" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Vince Gilligan, John Shiban, and Frank Spotnitz, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> Sidenote: As you all know, "En Ami" is next. This is a crucial turning point in the story, for several reasons. A lot of thought has to be put into writing the next chapter, as the decisions that characters make during "En Ami" have very far-reaching consequences in this story. I might write it up as just one huge chapter. I might break it down into a couple. I haven't made a final decision on that yet. I will try very, very hard to have this done and posted by Monday night. No guarantees, though lol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Placebo – “Twenty Years”
> 
> There are twenty years to go  
> And twenty ways to know  
> Who will wear, who will wear the hat  
> There are twenty years to go  
> The best of all I hope  
> Enjoy the ride, the Madison show
> 
> Thems the breaks for we designer fakes  
> We need to concentrate on more than meets the eye
> 
> There are twenty years to go  
> The faithful and the low  
> The best of starts, the broken heart, the stone  
> There are twenty years to go  
> The punch drunk and the blow  
> The worst of starts, the mercy part, the phone
> 
> And thems the breaks for we designer fakes  
> We need to concentrate on more than meets the eye  
> Thems the breaks for we designer fakes  
> But it's you I take 'cause you’re the truth not I
> 
> There are twenty years to go  
> A golden age I know  
> But all will pass, will end too fast, you know  
> There are twenty years to go  
> And many friends I hope  
> Though some may hold the rose, some hold the rope
> 
> And that's the end and that's the start of it  
> That's the whole and that's the part of it  
> That's the high and that's the heart of it  
> That's the long and that's the short of it  
> That's the best and that's the test in it  
> That's the doubt, the doubt, the trust in it  
> That's the sight and that's the sound of it  
> That's the gift and that's the trick in it
> 
> You're the truth not I

_Mulder was sitting with Scully on his couch. It was a Saturday and it was raining outside. She was curled up against him, one hand running through his hair and another hand gently brushing his face with her fingertips. One of his arms was wrapped around her back and his other hand held her face as he kissed her. These weren’t the frantic, passion-filled kisses of brand new lovers with the goal of removing clothing as soon as possible. They were the slow, languid kisses between two people who had been in love a very long time, two people who were simply savoring their time alone together. Between kisses there were whispered “I love yous” and “you’re so beautiful” and other sweet nothings. They were just two people in no hurry to go anywhere or do anything else than spend a lazy Saturday afternoon kissing on the couch.  
_

_But then Mulder felt his hands penetrating Scully’s body, sinking into her. She was no longer solid, she was fading, and he was overcome with horror.  
_

_“Don’t leave me, Scully,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry. Just please don’t leave me.”  
_

_He desperately kissed her and threw both arms around her, trying to hold her tight to him, but she was slipping away, fading into ghostly wisps of air, fading as Mulder watched helplessly until she’d completely disappeared.  
_

_He sat upright on the couch, his face buried in his hands, and sobbed in despair. “I’m so sorry, Scully! I’m so sorry!”_

Mulder jerked awake, his nerve endings tense with panic. He looked around and registered that he was in his bedroom. He glanced over to the right on Scully’s side of the bed but she wasn’t there. What day was it? What time was it? He looked to the bedside table and his digital clock, telling him it was 4:07 am. So it must be Wednesday. Wednesday, March 1st. Mulder then noticed the light underneath the closed door to his en suite bathroom and heard the toilet flush. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Scully soon walked out of the bathroom, fully dressed.

“Why are you leaving so early?” Mulder asked, still feeling residual tremors of fear.

She looked at him, pausing as if to debate how she’d answer, and then she sighed. “I got my period, Mulder.”

He stared at her. He wanted her to stay here with him. “Oh, okay. But… why does that mean you have to leave?”

Scully sighed again. “I, uh, don’t have what I need here.”

Mulder continued to stare, but then comprehension dawned on him. “Oh. Right.”

As Scully silently moved around the room, collecting her car keys, FBI badge, gun and holster, slipping on her shoes, thoughts of IVF and Dr. Parenti filled Mulder’s head. Not a single word about IVF had been mentioned between them since New Year’s Eve, and he wasn’t exactly sure where they’d left things. Did she want to try again? Deep down she probably wanted to, but was it something she still wanted to go through? He desperately wanted to ask her.

Mulder watched Scully open his bedroom door, and then he sat up in bed. “Scully.”

She turned to look back at him. “What?”

They stared at each other. He wanted to ask, but found he couldn’t. He felt afraid, for some reason. “I’ll, uh, see you at the office later.”

Scully gave him a halfhearted smile. “Okay. See you later.”

And then she walked through the bedroom doorway, closing the door behind her. Mulder listened as his front door unlocked, opened, and closed. Why didn’t he ask the question? What was he afraid of? His mind went back to his dream, scratch that, his nightmare, only vaguely remembering details, but clearly remembered the sound of his begging Scully not to leave him, his desperate apologies.

Mulder was afraid of her. He was afraid of losing her. He was afraid of disappointing her. And he may try hard to ignore it, but he knew that she wanted out, that she was getting fed up. One day, she would want to ‘get out of the damn car’ as she once said to him. He knew that. But he also knew that he didn’t want to get out of the car. Of course, Mulder did know that one day his work would come to end. He couldn’t do this for the rest of his life, but he also knew that he wasn’t anywhere near retirement age. But Scully wouldn’t last another 20 years in the X-Files. Hell, she might not even last another year.

He knew that deep down Scully would like a nice house in the nice suburbs, and to come home from her nice job as a surgeon to a nice husband and nice kids and a nice dog. Her life would be all so very… nice. And when Mulder tried inserting himself into this scenario, he felt nothing but blind panic and fear. That life would mean giving up the X-Files. Did that mean he could never be married to Scully? Most likely. He recalled a directive in the Official Federal Bureau of Investigation Special Agent Handbook, under the section Agent Behavior, which said something along the lines of “partnership will be immediately terminated without grounds for appeal” should partners become legally married. So, remaining on the X-Files and marriage just did not go hand in hand, as their partnership would be terminated and he couldn’t do this without Scully.

So what if they try IVF again and it works? They actually have a kid? Or more than one? Multiple pregnancies are possible with that. So who would take care of the kid, or kids, if mommy and daddy are out in Minnesota chasing a genetic mutant serial killer? And then running off the following week to New Orleans to hunt down blood-thirsty vampires? Mulder spent his post-Samantha youth with distant, hands-off parents. No way would he put a child through that.

So, in order to keep the X-Files, and keep Scully as his partner, there could be no marriage. And no children. So what were they left with? Nothing but his fear, and her increasing dissatisfaction with her life. Scully had told him that she’d never trade him for the nice house and the nice husband, or some nice children. He still believed that, but he also believed that she would trade him in for her own sanity. Scully was loyal to him, deeply loyal, and would stick with him in this work that he didn’t want to abandon. But she’d also grow increasingly unhappy with each passing year, until she couldn’t bear it anymore, and then she would leave him. He knew she would. She didn’t need Mulder as much as he needed her, and he’d known this all along. So he'd be left with nothing, no X-Files and no Scully. His life would be over, basically.

Scully was also afraid. Mulder knew she wasn’t afraid that he’d leave her, cheat on her or betray her somehow. She wasn’t afraid that he’d hurt her in that way. But she knew that it was in his very nature to hurt her in small ways, like he’d done so many times over the years. Scully had seen him at his most desperate, most obsessive, most destructive, most needy, and she probably believed that she could never give him everything he needs, everything he wants. Because she was afraid of disappointing him. But she also knew, as did he, that she could never really disappoint him.

Mulder was willing to take whatever Scully was willing to offer, and he’d never demand more of her than she was willing to give, even though there were times he wanted more. Sure, they loved each other physically, but sometimes Mulder wanted more than that. But work partnership, and friendship, was one thing, letting go of their independence and combining their personal lives into one committed union was another. There were still boundaries, unspoken and invisible lines drawn in the imaginary sand, which prevented this thing between them from progressing from the physical to the emotional. But Mulder knew there were strong emotions there, buried underneath the surface. Personal commitments had already been made, hidden in the recesses of their hearts.

Hadn’t Mulder made a vow to himself to do anything that his relationship with Scully required? Hadn’t he vowed to put her wishes ahead of his own? So then what was he really afraid of? Maybe it was just fear of the unknown.

*****

At 7:33 am, Mulder walked into his basement office at FBI headquarters. Scully would arrive sometime in the next hour. He never knew exactly when. Mulder always arrived around 7:30, like clockwork. Scully liked to keep him guessing apparently. Just before 8:00 am, he heard footsteps down the hallway outside but he knew they couldn’t belong to Scully. Or any woman. Mulder then heard a knock on his office door, and he looked up from the computer monitor to see the jet black hair and blue eyes of Agent Sam Cole standing in the doorway looking at him.

“Hey, Mulder,” he greeted, smiling, and walked inside the office, approaching the desk.

What was this about? “Agent Cole. So… what brings you down here?”

“Meh, call me Sam,” he said as he sat in the chair facing Mulder’s desk. “Everyone else does. I, uh, just felt like dropping by.”

Mulder stared at him. “Agent Scully isn’t here yet.”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, I can see that. I, uh, heard you were out there working the Amber Lynn LaPierre case, and that you were the one who caught that sicko Truelove. And then I heard about your mom. I know. I’m behind the times. But we were working those murders down in Waldorf for the past month. I’ve only been back at headquarters a couple days. So I guess I just, uh, wanted to see how…”

But then Mulder watched as Cole’s train of thought became suspended as he stared past Mulder to the wall behind him. He twisted his office chair to follow Cole’s line of vision to the poster hanging behind Mulder’s head.

Sam chuckled again. “That’s… a pretty cool poster.”

Mulder snorted, nodding.

“Anyways,” Sam continued. “I’m sorry about your mother. I can’t imagine. How… how’re you doing?”

Mulder stared at him. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Cole was being genuine here. Maybe he was. “I’m doing fine.”

“Good, good,” Sam replied. “And, uh, how’s Agent Scully doing?”

Mulder almost smirked. How was Agent Scully doing? That was a good question. Mulder didn’t really know what the answer was, and felt anxious about that. “She’s, uh, she’s fine.”

Sam nodded. “I don’t suppose you, uh, happen to know if she’s currently seeing anyone?”

Now he smirked. “All questions regarding Agent Scully’s personal life should be directed at her. I’m not really the one to ask.”

“You guys don’t talk about that stuff, huh?” Sam replied. “God, you’re lucky. Sarah talks about nothing but her perfect husband and their perfect house and their perfect dog. So fucking irritating.”

Mulder chuckled.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the girl. She’s one of my closest friends. But I really don’t give a damn about what shade of green you painted your damn bathroom. Know what I’m sayin’?”

Mulder laughed.

Sam sighed. “Nah, I’m being too hard on her. She’s just happy, and actually has a life outside this job. I don’t. So, I think I might be coming across as bitter and jealous.”

Mulder twitched his mouth, nodding. Suddenly the telephone started ringing.

“I would bet that’s probably Skinner,” Sam said, getting up from the chair. “So I should get going. I’m glad you’re doing all right.”

Mulder stood up and shook Cole’s outstretched hand. “Tell Agent Scully I said hello.”

“Uh, I will,” Mulder replied, as he picked up the receiver to the ringing telephone and watched Agent Cole walk out of the office.

“Mulder.”

“Agent Mulder.” It was, in fact, Skinner.

“Yes, sir?” he replied, sitting back down at the desk.

“I’ve got a case for you and Agent Scully. You need to get out to San Francisco. I got you both on the 9:15 flight. So you should get to the airport as soon as possible.”

Mulder stood up again. “What’s the case?”

“Got a call from the San Francisco field office. A prominent doctor was found dead in his son-in-law’s home late last night, hanging from the chandelier. It first appeared to be a suicide, but there are some strange elements to the scene that can’t be explained. The local PD out there thinks it could be a homicide, but they’re also leaning towards suicide. They can’t really say for sure. They’re baffled. I actually first handed the case over to Agents Cole and Brewer, but after Sam looked over the police report earlier this morning he told me to give the case to you. Said it looked like an X-file.”

Mulder paused. Cole had just been down in his office and didn’t say a word about this. “What strange elements?”

“There was a message written in blood on the wall. Dirt in the bed.”

Dirt? Weird. Interesting. “Okay, I’ll take it. But sir, isn’t the, uh, quarterly on Friday? I can’t guarantee we’ll be back in time for that.”

There was a pause. “Your presence isn’t required at this quarterly, Mulder. Check in once you get a handle on the situation,” Skinner said before hanging up.

What did that mean? Since when didn’t the executives want the ‘absurdity’ of his work discussed in great detail in a room filled with his peers? The phone immediately rang again. “Mulder.”

“Mulder, it’s me. I’m on my way, but traffic is a nightmare.”

“Scully, turn around and head to the airport. Skinner’s just assigned us a case.”

There was a pause. “Where are we going?”

“San Francisco.”

Mulder heard her groan. “I know you hate flying, Scully. But I promise this isn’t an invisible entity disguising itself as Freddy Krueger or a video game attacking people.”

Scully sighed. “What time does the flight leave?”

“9:15.”

*****

It was almost 9:30 am on Saturday morning, March 4th, and Mulder had left Scully at the USF Medical Center, where Oral Peattie was lying in the intensive care unit, recovering from a gunshot wound. Mulder was walking back inside the occult shop in San Francisco’s Mission District, carefully stepping around the pentagram on the floor.

The shopkeeper looked up from where she was standing in the back and walked over to the counter. “Got something else for me? Some more questions?”

“Just some evidence.” Mulder pulled out the plastic bag with the brown burlap puppet that Peattie had used on Scully, which he’d found on the ground outside that cabin in the National Sequoia Forest, from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and laid it on the counter.

“This was directed at your victim?” she asked in her nasal tone.

“One of them, yeah,” Mulder replied.

The shopkeeper didn’t remove the puppet, simply took her right forefinger and stroked the face through the clear plastic. “Powerful stuff, here. The man, your conjurer, was most likely a healer, learned the magic from his mother or father, who had learned it from his father, and so on. But, uh, something happened, something very wrong. He became more of a death charmer, I’d say.”

Mulder nodded.

The shopkeeper closed her eyes and ran her finger over the nail-punched eyes of the puppet. “Wow… okay. Someone very close to the victim, someone who loves her deeply, broke the spell.”

He stared. “How do you know the victim is female?”

She smirked at him. “The spell-breaker, he is powerful too, and this puppet is now a charm in itself.”

Mulder’s eyes widened. “Can it still hurt her?”

“Oh, no. Your conjurer, the death charmer, he can’t ever hurt her again. I doubt anyone on this earth could.”

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“This puppet is now a very powerful charm, and it belongs to her,” the shopkeeper replied. “So I doubt she can ever again be harmed by magic, not with a curse or a hex or anything of the sort. I’d suffice to say that she probably couldn’t ever be fatally harmed by human hands. So as long as she doesn’t drive her car over a bridge or walk in front of a train or come down with cancer, she’ll live to a ripe old age.”

Mulder looked down at the evidence bag. “What should be done with it?”

“Well, she shouldn’t carry it around with her, for one thing. That’ll attract all kinds of unwanted attention.”

His eyes flew back to hers. “What do you mean by that?”

She gave him a knowing look. “I mean things seeking power. You want to know what I would do? Give the charm to her husband, the one who broke the spell. Tell him to keep it safe for her.”

Mulder sighed. “She's not married.”

The shopkeeper smirked, and picked up a stack of cards on the counter to her right. “A marriage certificate it just a technicality. Would you like me to do your cards? No fee. It’s on the house.”

Her hands started shuffling the cards, as Mulder grasped hold of the plastic evidence bag and lifted it off the counter.

“And with that thing in your possession, I bet the reading will be extra thorough. I bet I could even tell you the color of your son’s eyes and which Jungian personality type he is. It’s all in the eyes. They’re the window to the soul.”

Mulder swallowed. “I, uh, I don’t have a son.”

She smirked at him again, still shuffling the cards. “Not right now, you don’t.”

“No, that’s all right. And thanks for your help.” He suddenly wanted to leave immediately. Mulder turned around and walked quickly away from the counter, before stopping abruptly at the pentagram on the floor, walking around it and out the door.

*****

Scully glanced down at her watch, it was 10:21 am. She was in Oral Peattie’s hospital room at the USF Medical Center, where he was intubated and unconscious. She wondered if he’d recover from his gunshot wound. She hoped so. A couple minutes later, the door opened and Mulder walked up to stand behind her.

“Lynette Peattie's body is on its way back home to O’Neal, West Virginia.”

“She's going back to her people after all. You know, Mulder, I would've made the same call. As a doctor, if I was certain that I couldn't save her life and she was in that much pain, I would've done what Wieder did.”

“Mm-hmm. It seems pretty clear cut.”

“Except maybe it's not,” Scully replied.

“You're wondering if maybe Peattie could've saved her life?” he asked.

Scully looked up at Mulder, confirming his guess, looked back at Peattie one last time, and walked out of the hospital room.

She spent the rest of the day with Mulder at the Mission Police Station filling out paperwork and making copies of police and autopsy reports to bring back to Washington with them, thinking about Peattie and his daughter the entire time. Peattie seemed to have been stuck in a world from the turn of the last century, and how scary the medicine and science of the 21st century must have appeared to him. Scully knew this didn’t excuse his actions. He’d murdered two innocent people, and was hell bent on murdering more. But Scully was putting herself in Peattie’s place. How frightened he must’ve been to leave the mountains of West Virginia to come all the way to San Francisco. How he must have suffered the agonizing pain and loss he felt over his daughter, believing he could’ve saved her. The constant torture of ‘what if’ running through his mind. Is there anything more torturous than ‘what if’?

“Scully? You’re awful quiet. You okay?”

She looked across the table at her partner. “Yeah, Mulder. I’m fine.”

Mulder looked at her, and she could tell that he didn’t believe her, but of course he wasn’t going to press her to speak her mind. Sometimes she wished he would, force her hand, and make her express what’s so hard for herself to say on her own.

“You know, I’m shocked Skinner let us get out of the quarterly to work this case. I don’t think that’s ever happened in the history of the X-Files.”

Scully suddenly remembered something. “Oh, I didn’t tell you. We were never going to go to the quarterly, regardless of whether we had a case or not.”

Mulder stared at her. “What do you mean? We’d been reviewing our cases all week.”

She pursed her lips. “I know. The Deputy Director apparently told Skinner we were to be kept out. I guess he didn’t want us telling a room full of fellow agents and executives about former FBI agents turning into zombies.”

He sighed, and shook his head. Then he glanced down at his watch. “There’s a 10:30 pm flight tonight, gets into D.C. at 6:30 in the morning. I know you hate red eyes, Scully, so we could stay another night in the motel and fly back sometime tomorrow if you’d prefer.”

Scully did hate flying all night and arriving exhausted during the day. It always threw her off balance. But she wanted to go home. “No, let’s leave tonight.”

Mulder nodded. “Okay.”

Later that night, they sat at their gate at the San Francisco airport. Scully sat next to Mulder, watching a family sit down across from them while Mulder read over their paperwork on Peattie. The husband and wife looked exhausted, and Scully assumed they’d been traveling all day and maybe even had their flights cancelled or delayed. They had two small children with them, a boy and a girl, both looked under five years of age. The husband dropped their bags to the floor, and sat down in the seat next to his wife. He proceeded to pull out some video game thing, it looked like one of those Gameboys her nephews had, while his wife pulled out some grapes for their children. Once they’d eaten their snack, the girl held out her arms, silently begging her mother to pick her up and hold her. Scully felt something clench at her heart. The boy walked over to stand in front of his father, attempting to get into the man’s lap, but he was too engrossed in his video game to pay his son any attention. The boy soon gave up and walked over to one of their bags. Scully could see the head of a stuffed animal, maybe a teddy bear, peeking out from the bag. As the boy tried to unzip the bag and free his small treasure, he pinched his finger and started to cry loudly. The mother quickly set her daughter down and reached for her son, bringing him up on her lap to console him as he continued to wail. Scully watched the father look embarrassed at the sudden stares his family was receiving, and shot annoyed glances at his wife and son. He then returned to his video game.

Scully turned her head to look at Mulder. His head had briefly shot up when that woman’s son started crying, but Mulder, being a polite and well-bred New England boy, had quickly looked away and returned to his paperwork. Scully imagined this scenario if two similar children had belonged to her and Mulder. She couldn’t picture him so engrossed in that paperwork in his hands that he would ignore his son’s pleas to be held. But Scully could picture Mulder setting the file down on the seat next to him and holding the boy in his arms. She couldn’t picture him so absorbed in a case report, no matter how paranormally thrilling, to ignore his son’s cries. But Scully could picture Mulder reaching for his son and easing the boy’s pain, wiping away his tears.

Scully stared at him, sitting there looking over the police and autopsy reports for the 20th time tonight, knowing he deserved so much more out of life than chasing monsters. If only Mulder believed he deserved more. She hoped one day he would believe that he could have so much more out of life than what the X-Files offered him.

Mulder looked up at her, and she reacted as if caught. He grinned. “Didn’t Nietzsche say that if you gaze long into the abyss, it’ll gaze right back at you?”

She snorted and turned her attention away from Mulder, rolling her eyes. How does he always know when she is looking at him? Can’t she watch, just once, without him realizing it? It was so annoying.

Scully and Mulder shortly afterwards boarded United flight 1562, nonstop from San Francisco to Washington Dulles International Airport. About an hour into the five hour flight, Scully leaned her head against the window and fell asleep in the darkened plane cabin.

_It was a four hour drive from the cabin, where the ambulances had taken Oral Peattie and Dr. Wieder away, back to San Francisco. The police had taken Scully’s rental car as evidence, and she was in the passenger seat next to Mulder. They had turned onto California State Route 99, heading north. It was still dark, and the night was full of the moon and starlight. She wondered if Mulder’s sister was out there, dreaming of ice cream and playing hopscotch. She looked over at Mulder and smiled. He’d solved yet another case. Dr. Wieder and his daughter were safe. Mulder saved their lives. And hers. Again. He caught her eye, glancing over at her, and returned her smile._

_“I love you, Mulder.”_

_He smiled even wider, gazing at her. “I lo…”_

_Tires screeched Metal gratingly crashed on metal. Glass shattered. Mulder screamed. Everything spun so fast it was if they were in slow motion, then silence._

_Scully, breathing hard, her head pounding, looked over into the driver’s seat. **Oh, my God! Mulder!**_

_She pulled out her cell phone, about to dial 911, but it was dead. What?! Not now!_

_But she could hear sirens in the distance. Help was coming. She reached out to Mulder’s neck, finding it wet with blood, and searched for a pulse. She found it. It was weak, but it was there._

_“Scully?” he moaned. “Are you all right?”_

_“Am I all right, Mulder?” she asked in disbelief._

_Suddenly bright headlights turned on somewhere to their right, and she looked over to see a large pickup truck. A truck had hit them. **You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.** Then there was pounding on her window. There was a man there, she assumed the truck driver, and he grabbed hold of the door handle, pulling until the door came loose. “Hey, are you okay?” he yelled._

_“My partner needs to get to the hospital right away!”_

_Scully unfastened her seat belt and glanced back to Mulder, thankful that the truck’s headlights would allow her to get a good look at him. Her stomach immediately bottomed out. Oh, God. The driver’s side door and the complete left side of the front end of the car were smashed. Mulder’s legs, pelvis, and his left arm and shoulder were crushed. There was blood everywhere. No. No, no, no, no, no. Where was that fucking ambulance?!_

_“Mulder, stay with me.” She didn’t mean for it to sound frightened and pleading, but she couldn’t help it._

_“Scully,” he moaned again._

_“Mulder, hold on. Everything will be okay. The ambulance is coming.” She took his hand and threaded their fingers as the sirens got louder._

_Scully rambled words of reassurance until the ambulance arrived. The paramedics came over to the car and after one look at Mulder, they grabbed Scully and pulled her out. She started fighting to get back inside the car next to Mulder._

_“Ma’am, would you please calm down? You need to be treated.”_

_“I don’t need any fucking help! Help my partner!”_

_“We can’t help him till the fire department gets here. We have to get the Jaws, and they might not even be able to get him out of there alive."_

_What?!_ _Suddenly Mulder was crying and screaming. “Scully! Scully!”_

_“I’m here, Mulder.” Oh, God! This couldn't be happening!_

_One of the EMTs walked back over from the ambulance. "They're on their way. They'll be here with the Jaws in a couple minutes."_

_She heaved an anxious sigh and squeezed Mulder's hand. She heard more sirens in the distance getting closer and prayed they'd get him to the hospital in time._

_Suddenly they were both in the ambulance, heading for the hospital, and just a few moments later they were rushing into the emergency room. Doctors and nurses surrounded them, speaking frantically._

_A silver-haired doctor approached her with a somber expression. He looked very familiar, but Scully couldn't place him. "There's nothing we can do. He's not going to make it. We can only make him comfortable."_

_Her eyes widened. “That is unacceptable! Start an IV! Now! Get some fluids in him! I know him, okay? I’m a doctor, and I know his medical history. He’s come close to death many times before, and he always makes it. He’ll hang on. He’ll make it. He won’t leave me. You just have to start an IV and then we can get him into surgery.”_

_“Ma’am, it's the best we can do,” the doctor replied, dosing up a syringe with morphine until it was full. "It's our only option."_

_“No! You’ll kill him!” shouted Scully, and started to run to Mulder's side._

_A security guard suddenly held her down while the doctor gave Mulder dose after dose of morphine, as he was screaming her name, and almost immediately the screams lessened into agonizing moans._

_“You fucking bastards!” Scully yelled. “Mulder, hold on! You can do it! Everything will be okay as long as you hold on!”_

_But then he went quiet, no longer screaming or moaning._

_“Mulder?” Scully choked out._

_“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the doctor said as he put his hand on her shoulder. “He’s gone. But he’s no longer in any pain. It was the best we could do.”_

_She started screaming. They were supposed to spend their lives together! They were supposed to have a baby! She turned on the doctor and hospital staff, reaching for her gun, but found her holster was missing. Where could it have gone?  
_

“Scully, wake up!”

She knew that voice.

“Scully, come on. Open your eyes and wake up.”

Her eyes flew open and she was breathing fast, as she looked over at Mulder sitting next to her in his aisle seat on the plane. It was still dark, but she could see that he was all right. There was no blood, no shattered bones, and no anguished cries of pain. Scully reached out for him, gripping his suit, sliding one hand beneath the jacket and feeling his heartbeat through his dress shirt, her other hand moving up to feel the rough stubble on his chin.

“Scully, you’re crying.”

“I am?”

She pulled her hands away from Mulder and brought them up to her face, feeling her cheeks. They were wet. “I, uh, I had a bad dream.”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” he replied, his eyes wide with concern. “What were you dreaming about?”

Scully felt her eyes fill with fresh tears as she gazed at Mulder. What if this plane crashed? What if on their way home from the airport a truck wipes out Mulder’s car and he’s taken from her? What if he never hears her say how much she truly loves him? What if she gives up on IVF without ever trying again, and that would have been their last best chance to have a child? What if? What if? What if?

*****

Mulder stared at Scully, watched her eyes fill up with tears. That must’ve been some dream. But there was something else, there behind her eyes. More than just the dream.

“Scully, what is it? Tell me.”

She blinked, and silent tears rolled down her cheek. “Mulder, I’m not ready to give up.”

Mulder wasn’t sure what she meant. Give up on what? There could be several answers to that question, all of which caused him some varying degree of anxiety.

“What was the point in praying for a miracle if I give up?” she whispered.

He sighed. She did want to try IVF again. Mulder knew she had really wanted to, even if she hadn’t said anything about it in over two months. He nodded. “You’re right, Scully.”

She nodded, wiping away her tears, and then turned back to look out the window.

He leaned back in his seat. There were still two more hours to go on this flight. Mulder closed his eyes. She did keep him guessing. In fact, most of the time it was hard to keep up with her. She was a conundrum to him. In so many ways, she seemed to remain the exact same person she was when she walked through his door seven years ago, but she also changed all the time.

Mulder believed he knew her well, very well. He felt he could safely predict how she will react to things, what she will say to him, the conclusions she will draw when presented with all the facts. Mulder knew how her mind worked, her practical rationalism and scientific rigor. He might keep his face turned upwards, shouting at the heavens, looking for answers that don’t exist in the world around him.

Scully, however, was earthbound. Her feet were firmly planted in the ground, she was the calming water to his blazing fire. Mulder also knew that she distances her emotions from their work, even from him, keeping them at arm’s length, so that she wouldn’t be sucked in without any hope of going back to the way life used to be and suffer the consequences.

But Mulder also knew that her emotions ran deep, no matter how well hidden below the surface they were kept so that she could function as an FBI agent and a scientist. She feels things deeply, strongly. She just doesn’t show it. And then suddenly Scully would surprise him. She would show those emotions. She’d forsake science and logic. She’d follow her intuition instead of her knowledge. She’d believe folk magic had the ability to save above and beyond modern medicine.

Scully was a puzzle to Mulder. This used to intimidate him. Not anymore. One by one she had given him the pieces over the years, more so recently, and he was starting to put her puzzle together. But he knew this was one puzzle he probably would never be able to completely solve. That was okay.

She was a walking contradiction. Scully was complex, and yet he believed her needs were simple. She was deeper than any human being he’d ever met, and still growing in depth all the time. She was strong, but he could see her weaknesses from time to time when she laid her guard down. She was reserved, but he knew the fiery passion that blazed underneath. She was brilliant and sharp, but there were questions her heart asked that she couldn’t find the answers to. She was serious, but there was a sense of humor there, a teasing and sarcastic side, that he was seeing more and more of. She was small, but powerful. She was soft, but hard as iron. She was calm, but a raging storm.

How could one person be so many things tied up inside such a small package? How could so much complexity exist within one human being? Mulder wanted to spend his life trying to figure this out, but he knew full well this was one mystery he’d never fully understand.

Sure, Mulder could spend the next 20 years chasing after werewolves, genetic mutants, and alien spaceships. Or, he could spend the next 20 years, and hopefully more, with Scully. These were the two roads laid out in front of him. A choice had to be made. So, when it really came down to it, it was the X-Files or Scully. One choice was right, and one choice was wrong. Mulder couldn’t spend the next 20 years of his life diving into the supernatural and paranormal without Scully by his side. What would be the point? What would he even accomplish by himself?

Mulder looked over at Scully, with her head leaning on the small pillow propped up against the window and her eyes once again closed, knowing that nothing was going to stop him from attempting to learn her mysterious ways. The truth was out there. And he had his whole life to find it.

*****

At 6:32 am on Sunday, March 5th, Mulder and Scully arrived at the Dulles airport from San Francisco. Upon walking out to the parking lot, he asked her if she’d like to stay at his place and she followed him back to Alexandria. After Mulder showered, it was Scully’s turn, and in 20 minutes flat, she was out of the shower and drying off with a towel. She walked out of the bathroom naked, feeling Mulder’s eyes on her as she went over to his dresser and took out that gray and blue Georgetown t-shirt, pulling it over her head.

Scully then walked over to her side of the bed and climbed up next to Mulder, who was sitting up against the headboard wearing only a pair of navy blue boxer briefs. All through her hot shower, she suddenly felt wide awake and could think of nothing else but having him inside her. “You tired, Mulder?”

He grinned at her. “Yeah. But I can think of something that’ll really help me sleep. Wait. You are, uh, open for business now?”

She chuckled, glad her period was over and done with. “Yep.”

Scully then got up on her knees and straddled Mulder’s lap, pressing her forehead against his as her hands went to his shoulders. He could hear her breathing become shallow, and he could smell her shampoo and conditioner. It was something fruity. He could feel the heat radiating everywhere her body touched his. His hands grasped the hem of the t-shirt and he lifted it over her head, dropping it to the floor by the bed.

"Why did you even bother putting that on?" Mulder griped good-naturedly.

"Oh, I don't know. To make things difficult for you?" she teased.

Mulder smirked, and then gazed into her eyes, searching her face. “Are you going to call Dr. Parenti in the morning?”

“Yes,” Scully whispered.

His hands went to her hips, and he moved forward to capture her lips with his. Scully relaxed into Mulder’s warmth, bringing her arms up to wrap around his neck and pressing her soft breasts into Mulder’s firm chest. Scully pulled him closer, her tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. He groaned, and sucked her lip into his mouth, biting gently, and it was her turn to groan. He felt her nipples stiffen against him as their tongues met in slow, deliberate strokes. Mulder felt more blood rush to his groin, his cock hardening, and he began thrusting his hips up against her. Scully’s clit started to ache as hot, wet desire flowed out from her center.

They broke the passionate kiss and gasped for air, their chests heaving. Their pupils were dilated and their lips were swollen.

“God, Scully, I want to fuck you,” Mulder panted.

She smirked, nodding. “That’s the idea.”

He chuckled, and then slid a little so that he was lying down with his upper back propped against a pillow, holding onto Scully as he did so. She then sat up and hooked her thumbs into the waist of Mulder’s boxer briefs, sliding them off his legs. Scully returned to Mulder’s lap, quickly placing his engorged cock at her entrance, and slid down his thick length with a long guttural moan.

Mulder gasped. “Fuck, Scully. You’re so wet already.”

“I needed you,” she whispered, her head falling backwards as she started to grind her hips back and forth.

His eyes darkened as his hands went to her ass to help guide her up and down over him. “How many times do you want to come?”

Scully whimpered, her clit throbbing. “I… haven’t put a number on it.”

Mulder chuckled, but then suddenly growled when Scully started to roll her hips around his hard cock. He bent his head to suck one of her perfect, pink nipples into his mouth, while squeezing her other breast and pinching her hardened nipple between his fingers. Soon Scully was moaning, and Mulder was pulling her down hard over him. He growled again as he watched her reach her hand down to rub her clit and she began whimpering his name. He sucked her nipple back into his mouth greedily, and then bit down. Almost immediately she cried out, her muscles clenching around him. Mulder’s hands grasped her hips and he moved her up and down his cock, drawing out her orgasm.

Scully then lifted herself off Mulder’s lap and turned so that her back was to him, before once again positioning herself over him. She reached down and guided his cock back to her entrance, sliding her cunt down over his cock, and leaned forward until her forearms were on the mattress next to Mulder’s legs. She then began to work her hips over Mulder’s, grinding her cunt up and down, back and forth, over him. Mulder stared at her ass moving over him, felt his cock throb inside her tight cunt. He then wet his thumb, coating it with his saliva, and reached out to press against her anus. Scully started whimpering, and when Mulder pushed his thumb inside her tight opening, those whimpers turned to loud moans and she was coming again.

Scully sat up, and turned back to face him as she was coming down off her high. Mulder then leaned in and kissed her, rolling her under him. Scully sighed in satisfaction, wrapping her arms and legs around him, running her fingers through Mulder’s hair. He lied on top of her, kissing her passionately. Scully felt his engorged cock against her thigh, and a new wave of heat blossomed at her center, her clit throbbed with fresh arousal.

“You ready for more?” Mulder asked in a low voice.

Scully reached down to grab his cock, stroking him, and guided him back to her entrance. Mulder pushed into her cunt to the hilt and then hooked her knees around his elbows, sliding her legs up to his shoulders.

“Ohh, shit,” Scully moaned, feeling his cock pulsing and alive inside her, stretching her sensitive walls.

Mulder then leaned down, placing his hands on the mattress, until his forehead was hanging above hers. He started thrusting hard and fast, his engorged head stroking that sensitive spot in her front wall. He told her how good she felt around his cock, and Scully’s moans turned into loud cries as another orgasm exploded at her throbbing center, pleasure flooding her brain.

“God, Mulder,” she breathed, her body quivering with orgasmic aftershocks.

He dropped her legs, and sat back a bit. Scully then rolled over to lie on her stomach, breathing heavily.

He groaned and leaned over her, placing his mouth at her ear and pressing his pelvis into her soft, round ass. “You’re not finished yet, are you?”

“No,” Scully said, turning her face to meet his.

He kissed her, and then lifted himself up. After sliding his thumb in and out of her cunt, coating it with her wetness, he pushed his engorged cock, throbbing with need, inside her as his thumb once again pushed into her anus.

“Ohh, I’m gonna come again,” Scully moaned, gripping the sheets in front of her.

“That’s the idea,” Mulder replied, smirking down at her, and began thrusting in a steady rhythm. After a minute he picked up the pace, thrusting faster, and he slipped out of her. Mulder removed his thumb to grasp his cock and guide it back inside, sliding his cock down through her cheeks.

“You can if you want to,” Scully whispered.

He froze. What did she just say? Did she say what he thought she said? “Scully, uh…”

“I trust you, Mulder.”

“Have you ever done that before, Scully?”

She shook her head. “I never trusted anyone enough not to hurt me.”

He still paused. “Scully, are you sure?”

“Mulder, do it. I want you to.”

He quickly leaned over to the bedside table, opened the drawer and reached for the small bottle of lube. They’d never had to use it before, but he’d kept it there just in case it was ever needed. Mulder was now extremely thankful he’d gotten it.

“I’m gonna go slow, okay? Tell me if it hurts. Pain is an indicator. When this is done right, it doesn’t hurt. It’s not supposed to. So, if you’re in pain, it means something is going wrong and you have to tell me right away.”

“Okay,” Scully replied. She was panting in anticipation, her clit throbbing.

“Take a deep breath, and relax,” he said.

After applying an ample amount of lubrication up and down his cock, Mulder leaned back over Scully. He couldn’t believe this was happening. She did keep him guessing. He almost wanted to laugh. Mulder then guided the head of his cock to her ass, and started to slowly push inside as he reached his hand around to rub Scully’s swollen clit.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking tight,” Mulder groaned, after sinking in a couple inches. It wasn’t as soft or as wet as her cunt, but the tightness gripped his cock like a vise.

Scully gasped. Mulder felt so much bigger, and she had a sensation of being full like she’d never experienced before. This was a completely different feeling. Not bad different, just different.

Mulder moved slower and she relaxed even more, and he pushed more of his cock inside, slowly, while rubbing her clit in circles, until he was buried. He then gripped her hips and started thrusting in a slow, steady rhythm. After a short while, and relaxing into the sensations, Scully let out a low guttural moan, a sound he’d never really heard her make before.

“Does that feel good?” he asked.

“So good,” Scully whimpered. She could feel an orgasm coming on, and it was a completely different feeling. She couldn’t describe it, but pleasurable tension was building at her center. She then reached her hand down to rub her clit, stroking quickly in circles.

Mulder’s cock throbbed. “You have no idea how hard I wanna fuck you right now, you feel so good.”

“Do it,” she groaned. “I’m gonna come.”

He grabbed the bottle, adding a generous amount of more lubrication to his cock, and then leaned over her, kissing Scully’s neck and shoulder as he started to thrust harder.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Scully whimpered at Mulder’s hard, deep thrusts. The mixture of pleasure and pain was incredible, and her entire body tensed, the sensations growing stronger.

“This is amazing,” Mulder groaned in her ear. He still couldn’t believe it. His cock throbbed for release and he picked up the pace, thrusting faster. “I’m gonna come so fucking hard.”

Scully moaned at his words. “Come, Mulder. I wanna feel you come inside me.”

His eyes rolled, and he groaned. She rarely talked like this, not nearly as much as he wanted to hear her talk this way. Usually the dirty talk was his department. Mulder thrust deeper than he’d ever been, and Scully could feel his cock throb and expand, the feeling sending her over the edge. She screamed and her muscles clamped down as Mulder howled into her shoulder, his hot seed releasing inside her as her own orgasm tore through her.

Mulder collapsed on top of her as her body shook underneath him, both breathing hard, chests heaving.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I, Scully?”

“No, Mulder. It’s starting to feel sore, but it’ll go away.”

He lifted himself up and looked down at her with concern. “Was I too rough?”

“No, I promise. It felt good, it just hurts a little right now. It’s not like that area is meant for the depravity we just did.”

Mulder laughed. “Always the doctor. So, uh, you’d want to do that again?”

She chuckled. “Maybe not anytime soon.”

He grinned, and leaned back down over her. “But… it’s on the menu?”

She turned to look at him, bringing her lips close to his. “It’s on the menu.”

“I like this business you’re running," he deadpanned.

Scully started giggling. “I don’t think I can move. You might have to carry me to the bathroom."

Mulder lifted himself up, laughing.

*****

_Mulder was walking down the familiar beach. The warm sun and salty sea breeze flooding his senses. He saw a petite figure sitting in the sand a bit farther down, red hair gleaming in the sunshine. He walked towards Scully, and she smiled as she turned to look up at him. Something was wrong, though. Her smile was sad, and there were tears in her eyes. Mulder looked around and saw the sand UFO was gone. Something wasn’t right._

_“Where’s the boy?” Mulder asked, getting down on the sand next to her._

_She pointed down the beach, and Mulder saw him. He wasn’t the eight year old boy whom Mulder had come to know, he was a toddler. He wasn’t even two years old yet. Why had the boy grown younger again? The boy was with that couple. Mulder still didn’t know them. They were strangers. The woman held onto the boy’s hands, helping him walk unsteadily through the sand to the excited and eager man, and the boy giggled._

_Why wasn’t the boy with Mulder and Scully? This felt so wrong. But Mulder could see the boy was well cared for, and that this couple loved him very much._

_“Will he ever come back to us?” Mulder asked._

_He turned to look at Scully, and her sad smile. She reached a hand up to his face, caressing him with the back of her fingers._

_“Yes, Mulder. He will.”_


	63. “Treachery is the inevitable result of all affairs.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully begin another IVF cycle. Scully makes some choices that lead to the re-emerging of Mulder's demons. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of the episode "En Ami" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by William B. Davis, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> Sidenote: I decided to break this storyline into two chapters. I tried putting everything into one chapter, and it didn't flow very well. I didn't like it. The next chapter will continue, and conclude, the part of the story that surrounds "En Ami." If it feels like something is missing, like key scenes from the episode, they're most likely in the next chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulsavers – “Take”
> 
> Take  
> Take all you can  
> From the life you’ve been given  
> And stop making plans
> 
> This world  
> Is all that you need  
> You just have to notice  
> Remember to breathe
> 
> There’s a price that you pay  
> With the games that you play  
> With that devil  
> And you better be sure  
> When you walk through that door  
> Before you meddle
> 
> Life is so short  
> And you’re going to get caught  
> Being bought  
> And the choices you make  
> And the demons you wake  
> Must be fought
> 
> Take  
> Take all you can  
> From the life you’ve been given  
> And stop making plans
> 
> There’s a price that you'd pay  
> With the games that you'd play  
> With that devil  
> And you'd better be sure  
> When you walk through that door  
> Before you meddle
> 
> Life is so short  
> And you’re going to get caught  
> Being bought  
> And the choices you make  
> And the demons you wake  
> Must be fought

At 6:25 pm on Wednesday, March 8th, Mulder and Scully were sitting in Dr. Parenti’s office. They’d driven up to College Park, Maryland after work. On Monday morning, Scully had called Dr. Parenti to inform him of her recent menstrual cycle and her desire to give IVF another try. Monday had actually been an abnormally good day for Scully. That morning she’d gone to her regular OB/GYN at Capital Women’s Care for her six-month visit, and found that filling out the questionnaire while sitting in the waiting room was not nearly as depressing as it had been six months ago. She was still barren and her medical history still had the word ‘cancer’ in it, but when she got to the section asking how many sexual partners she’d had in the past year, she found herself grinning and biting her bottom lip as she happily entered the number one in the box.

Later that day, Mulder took her out to lunch and announced “Happy Anniversary!” as a sparkler-topped cupcake was set down in front of her. He then waggled his eyebrows at her stunned expression, saying “March 6th, Scully. March 6th, 1993 you walked into my basement office for the first time. Who knew, huh?” He then waggled his eyebrows some more, as she grinned at him, shaking her head.

When Scully had called Dr. Parenti on Monday, he had been enthusiastic, telling her that the sooner she starts the better. And as her and Mulder now sat in the two chairs facing Dr. Parenti’s desk on Wednesday evening, waiting for him to enter the office, anxiety filled their knotted stomachs.

The door then opened and Dr. Parenti walked in, shaking their hands. “It’s good to see you both again.”

He sat down at his desk with Scully’s patient file in front of him, entwined his fingers, and looked at them, smiling. “Well, I’m glad you’ve decided to try another IVF cycle. There are still plenty of options available.”

Scully nodded. “Okay.”

Dr. Parenti smiled. “Good. Okay, so I think the course of action I’m going to take this time will be micromanipulation-assisted hatching using a piezo-micromanipulator. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of it.”

Mulder and Scully shook their heads.

“This is a technique that was developed a couple years ago,” Dr. Parenti explained. “Embryos are surrounded by a protective shell known as the zona pellucida. Before an embryo can implant in the uterine wall it must escape or ‘hatch’ from the shell. Some embryos have thicker shells and become trapped. They are unable to escape from the shell, and implantation fails. This might be the reason why the previous two IVF cycles failed, although I can’t say for sure. It’s just a theory. Now, embryo micromanipulation involves the thinning of the protective shell and the creation of an opening using the vibration of a microneedle, the piezo-micromanipulator, so that the embryo can more easily hatch from the shell and implant in the uterus properly.”

Mulder and Scully nodded, their stomachs filling with butterflies.

“I’m hoping that with this technique, more of your embryos will turn into healthy blastocysts this time around,” Dr. Parenti added. “So, I’m going to write you a prescription for a 12-day hormone treatment of estrogen and progesterone.”

Scully swallowed, remembering what hormone treatment does to her. She glanced uneasily at Mulder. The next few weeks weren’t going to be pleasant. He gave her a reassuring smile, and she sighed.

“Next week we’ll collect the sperm sample and perform insemination, and then hopefully we’ll have more healthy embryos to choose from,” Dr. Parenti continued, before glancing down at his desk calendar. “We can perform the embryo transfer on Monday morning, March 20th, and then we’ll have you take a pregnancy test on Friday, the 31st. How does that sound?”

Mulder nodded his approval, looking over at Scully. She smiled at him nervously, starting to feel excited but not wanting to get her hopes up. He reached out and held her hand in his palm. What if it works this time? What if doesn’t? It’s not like bad news will be something she hasn’t heard before. But what if it really does work this time? What if she gets pregnant? They hadn’t talked about it, about what they’d do if the IVF was successful, how things would change, what that would mean for them, for their partnership, for their future. It was probably best to wait until that actually happened. Why talk about a future, especially a happy one, which was never going to be?

*****

On Tuesday morning, March 14th, Scully walked into their basement office at FBI headquarters. Surprisingly, Mulder wasn’t there. She had considered telling him about the boy, Jason McPeck, and the Smoking Man’s offer. When she’d arrived at the office on Monday afternoon, after the two hour drive back to Washington from Goochland, Virginia, Mulder wasn’t around. Eventually he called and told her that he was still down in Arlington, trying to get someone at DARPA to talk to him about that anonymous email he was sent. Scully almost told Mulder that it was the Smoking Man who sent him that email, but she hesitated. She hadn’t made a final decision yet on whether or not to take the Smoking Man seriously, whether or not to believe what he was offering. She’d spent the night at her apartment alone, Mulder too caught up in the obsession with government agencies keeping dark secrets from the public.

The office phone started ringing and she picked up the receiver. “Scully.”

“Agent Scully, could you come up here, please?” Skinner asked impatiently.

“Yes, sir, I’m on my way.”

After hanging up the phone, she walked out of the office, closing the door behind her, and made her way up to Skinner’s office on the fourth floor. As she stood outside Skinner’s office door, she could hear Mulder, his voice raised in anger, and sighed.

“Get a subpoena, then! Confiscate every damn computer at DARPA if that what it takes for me to find out who sent me this email!”

Scully opened the office door without knocking. They probably wouldn’t have even heard her. Mulder was standing in front of Skinner’s desk, angry and frustrated. Skinner was standing behind his desk, frustrated. Scully sighed.

“It’s a classified research arm of the Defense Department, Agent Mulder. Justices will just throw your request right back in my face.”

Mulder smiled sarcastically. “I forgot. We live in a democracy, we don’t work in one.”

“What is this even pertaining to?” Skinner asked, looking from Mulder to Scully, who had walked across the room to stand by his desk.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Mulder replied, before turning to look at Scully. “The email that was sent to me was sent from an account that’s been deleted from the system. Obviously somebody knows I’m trying to reach them.”

Scully felt a twinge of guilt. She knew who had sent that email, why it would’ve been deleted.

“Why assume foul play?” Skinner asked. “Why not a hoax, or a joke, or, or some bored federal employee just having fun?”

Mulder gave Skinner a blank stare. When is it not foul play when the Defense Department is involved? He turned back to look at his partner. “What did you find out, Scully?”

“Well, it appears that the boy was suffering from lymphatic cancer and that he went into a complete remission,” Scully replied, her eyes darting between Mulder and Skinner.

Mulder stared at her. She was hiding something. He could see it in her face.

“Is there any evidence of a government agency involvement in this?” Skinner asked.

She looked at her boss. “No, sir, I found none.”

“Agent Mulder,” Skinner said, effectively dismissing them from his office.

He was still staring at Scully. She was definitely hiding something.

Scully swallowed, and turned away from Skinner’s desk. Mulder nodded, staring at her departing back, and then followed her out of the office. Scully paused out in the outer office, once she’d passed the desk of Skinner’s secretary, and turned to see Mulder walking determinedly out of the office and right past her. She followed him out to the hallway, heading towards the elevators.

“What did you really find, Scully?” Mulder asked, glancing behind him. She obviously just didn’t want to say anything in front of Skinner.

“What I told Skinner, nothing,” she replied.

Mulder stopped walking, and turned around to look at her.

“What was I supposed to find?” Scully asked casually.

He stared at her. His instincts were telling him that something wasn’t right, but Scully would never hide things from him. She never had before, at least not where their work was concerned, but he still couldn’t help the feeling of suspicion. “I’m sure you’d tell me if you knew.”

Scully nodded, giving him a small smile. Mulder then turned back around and started walking away from her. She stood there, watching him walk onto the elevator, guilt flooding her stomach as Mulder looked at her until the doors closed. Scully then spent the rest of the morning alone in the office, as Mulder had decided to see his contacts on Capitol Hill to try and see how he could get around DARPA. After her lunch break, she had the phone number on the card that the Smoking Man had given her traced, and wound up at a brick office building near Capitol Hill. Not long after arriving, Scully found herself standing in the office of CGB Spender.

*****

When Scully had left the Smoking Man’s office, he instructed her that they would need to leave that night. She was told once again that she could not inform Mulder of what he was offering, or she would lose the chance to learn the genetic science behind the chip’s ability to cure cancer. She was told she had to leave her cell phone behind, as a precaution, to prevent her from communicating with Mulder, but he told her that she could bring her firearm. She certainly wouldn’t have gone with the Smoking Man if that had been a stipulation. She found she wasn’t really afraid of him. If he’d wanted to harm her, if he’d wanted her dead, he could’ve done it so many times before. And what would even be the reason to want her dead now?

Scully didn’t want to deceive Mulder. But she believed the benefits outweighed the cost. If this science truly existed, then the good that would come from it was worth keeping Mulder in the dark for a couple days. Of course, the science may not exist and this was just the Smoking Man playing some sort of game. So she requisitioned an FBI sedan, instead of taking her own car, and she’d gotten the tape recorder and microphone from the FBI’s reconnaissance office. Whatever the Smoking Man was up to, she knew Mulder would be the one to figure it out.

But despite her self-assurances that she was doing the right thing, and that she was trying to keep Mulder as involved as possible by creating these tapes for him to listen to, Scully knew he’d be angry. He’d be so very angry. And as she drove through the night with the Smoking Man on I-95 South, her stomach was knotted with anxiety.

By the time they’d crossed the border into South Carolina, the sun had come up.

“You've been at the wheel too long,” the Smoking Man said to her. “Would you like me to drive?”

“I might if you let me know where we're going,” Scully said. He’d told her to drive south, and that the drive would take about nine hours, but he hadn’t told her their destination.

“Knowing that, you'd feel comfortable?” he asked. “You'd trust me?”

Scully stared at him, giving him a sarcastic look.

“How long did it take Mulder to win your trust?”

“I've always trusted Mulder,” replied Scully.

The Smoking Man chuckled. “You're not being honest with yourself. Think back. There was a time when you feared for your future, for your career when you were first partnered with this man.”

Scully remembered. She remembered sitting in Blevins’ office, being told that she going to be sent to the basement to work with “Spooky” Mulder. She’d felt panicked, and she’d given those men in the room a look as if she’d been a deer caught in the headlights. The Smoking Man had been in that room. He’d seen that look on her face, and judged her right then and there. But oh, he’d been so wrong about her. He was still wrong about her.

“I told you, I've studied you for years,” Smoking Man continued. “And if you would permit me, I'd like to make an observation.”

Scully gave him a challenging look.

“You're drawn to powerful men but you fear their power. You keep your guard up, a wall around your heart. How else do you explain that fearless devotion to a man obsessed, and, yet, a life alone? You'd die for Mulder, but you won't allow yourself to love him.”

Scully felt uncomfortable. On the whole, she supposed what he said was mostly accurate. But he was also wrong. She did love Mulder. Maybe she still hadn’t allowed herself to love him like she really wanted to, she still kept her guard up, and she was still ruled by self-preservation. But there were good reasons for that, or so she thought. But what did the Smoking Man know of her true feelings? Nothing.

“Wow. I'm learning a whole other side to you. You're not just a cold-blooded killer, you're a pop psychologist as well.”

“I am a killer,” Smoking Man said. “I make no excuse for that, except to say I believed I was serving a greater purpose. I've been a destroyer all my life. Before I die, I'd like to prove that I'm capable of something more.”

He then directed Scully to turn left off the main road, and she drove down a rural country road until they’d reached a small house surrounded by some woods. There was a woman outside, tending to some of her flowers. Scully thought she looked to be in her late 60’s.

“Her name's Marjorie Butters,” said the Smoking Man. “She's got quite a green thumb. Plays a mean game of Scrabble, if you're interested.”

Scully wondered why they’d driven all the way down here to see this woman. “And what's her relationship to you?”

“Well, how should I put it?” he replied. “You could say that I'm her angel. Marjorie's 118 years old.”

“A hundred and eighteen?” Scully said in disbelief.

“Born Christmas Eve, 1881,” Smoking Man said. “She’d be happy to show you pictures.”

Scully continued to watch the woman tending to her flower pots. “That woman doesn’t look a day over 70, if that.”

He chuckled. “She’d be flattered. Actually, she gets that a lot, but it’s right there on her birth certificate in the desk drawer. I told her she outta get it framed.”

“So, she knows that you’re…” Scully was still trying to figure out his relationship with this woman.

“All she knows is that she had thyroid cancer in 1974, and she had a miracle recovery. I’m just a man she met in the hospital bringing flowers to his mother.” Smoking Man then opened the car door, and got out to walk towards the woman, Marjorie Butters.

Scully sighed, and got out of the car.

*****

It was 8:15 pm on Tuesday evening when Mulder walked into his apartment. He went over to his desk and pressed the play button on his answering machine. There was a message, and the machine told him it had just been left at 8:01 pm.

“Mulder, it's me. I wanted to let you know that I'll be out of town for a day or two. It's a family emergency. I'll... I'll call you when I can.”

He immediately picked up the phone and dialed Scully’s number, hoping she was still at home. But he only got her machine.

“Hey, Scully, it's me. Pick up if you're there. Scully? Are you there? All right, I just got, I got your message and I hope everything's okay. I'll try on your cell right now.”

Mulder hung up the phone, staring at it. Something wasn’t right. Why wouldn’t Scully have been more specific? Why the generic ‘family emergency?’ Why hadn’t she stated which family member the emergency involved, and what was wrong? If something had happened to her mother, or her brothers, her nephews, Jennifer or the new baby, wouldn’t Scully have told him so? He could only hope that she’d call him as soon as possible.

But Scully didn’t call for the rest of the night. He called her cell phone a couple times, but it went straight to voicemail. He didn’t get much sleep, and he had to get up early on Wednesday morning to make the drive to the Parenti Medical Group in College Park to leave a sperm sample for the IVF procedure. Even though he hadn’t been stuck in a bathroom this time around, he hadn’t really felt up to it. Thankfully the room he was in was equipped with some decent porn, and Mulder eventually got the deed done. But overall, it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

On his drive back to D.C. from College Park, he called Scully’s cell phone again and it still went straight to voicemail. Why had she gone this long without calling him? Mulder then called Mrs. Scully.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi, Mrs. Scully. It’s Fox Mulder.”

“Oh, hi, Fox! How are you?”

“I’m, uh, I’m all right. Scully had mentioned something about a family emergency. I was wondering if everything was okay?”

“I think so. I talked to Bill over the weekend and everything was fine with them. Charlie and Jennifer are all right. I haven’t seen Dana since Sunday, but she called me last night and told me she’d be out of town for a couple days. Do you think something’s wrong, Fox?”

Mulder didn’t want her to worry. “No, Mrs. Scully, I’m sure she’s fine. If you hear from her, will you just tell her to call me?”

“Of course.”

After saying goodbye and hanging up, he drove to Scully’s apartment in Georgetown. After walking into her building, and heading up to her apartment, he stood outside her door and put his key into the lock. It didn’t budge. _Goddammit._ He sighed. Scully had ended up changing her locks after what happened with Pfaster, and she’d given him her new key over a month ago. But her new key was sitting on his dresser on top of the small ceramic dish which held his pocket change. He groaned, and went down into the office to get Scully’s landlord.

As Mulder walked back up to Scully’s apartment with the landlord, he asked him if he’d seen Scully at all before she left. Then he asked if the landlord happened to know her reason for leaving. He’d seen her and she’d asked him to check in on her apartment while she was gone, but the only reason she gave for going out of town was a ‘family matter.’

“You said she was, uh, carrying a suitcase,” Mulder said as the landlord looked through his key chain to find Scully’s key. “Did you notice anything else? Anything abnormal?”

“No, no. Actually it wasn't her carrying the suitcase. It was her driver.”

“Her driver?” Mulder asked in disbelief. That didn’t make any sense.

“Yeah, older guy,” the landlord replied. “Tall. I've seen him here before. Smokes like a chimney.”

Mulder stared at the landlord, his stomach churning into knots of fear. He immediately turned around and walked away. On his way out of the building, he called Skinner and told him about his concerns, and then drove over to headquarters. Skinner had no real answers for him. Scully had taken out an FBI fleet sedan, and no one had seen or heard from her since. But as Mulder stood there in Skinner’s office, Scully called. And then refused to speak to him. Mulder felt panicked. Scully would’ve talked to him if she was okay, if she was safe. She was in trouble. She was in danger. He walked out of Skinner’s office and headed down to the basement, getting on his computer and checking his email. Nothing from Scully, or about Scully. Nothing more from DARPA. Mulder got on the phone and called the Lone Gunmen, asking them to do everything in their digital power to find Scully.

The Smoking Man took Scully. He must’ve coerced her, threatened her life. Maybe he’d shown up at her apartment, forcing her to show herself to the landlord and tell him she had to leave town on family business, so as not to cause any worry when she hadn’t been seen around the building in a while. Maybe he’d forced her to leave that message on Mulder’s machine, forced her to lie to him. She would never lie to him otherwise.

*****

Just before 8:00 pm on Thursday, March 16th, Scully walked out of her bedroom at the lakeside cottage wearing the black dress the Smoking Man had given her to wear to dinner. It made her feel uncomfortable. Words could not express how much she loathed this man, and she found his polite consideration to be extremely off-putting. She tried to stay away in her bedroom all day, not wanting to be in any other part of the house, not wanting to be in his company any longer than she had to be. She worried about Mulder, and this kept her stomach in a constant knot of dread. He’d be looking for her, frantic, and she hoped that he’d gotten the tape she mailed. But he’d still worry. Even that tape wouldn’t alleviate his fears. She kept reassuring herself that this science the Smoking Man’s government contact was going to provide would be worth the risks she’d taken.

As Scully approached him while he waited by the door, he stared at the dress. It fit her perfectly. He was suddenly reminded of another woman. Taller, and with dark brown hair, but a similar countenance. A powerful one. This other woman could look at him, her face contorting with anger and desire simultaneously. She liked it rough, and he’d given her what she wanted. She liked her hair pulled, and her ass slapped. He could remember her shrieks of pleasure, and her words of tenderness. But she was never the same after what had happened, and he’d lost her. Then he lost their daughter. But there was a greater cause, a greater purpose, and things like silly human relationships became secondary. And this greater purpose had come to nothing. He had no legacy. His bloodline would die with Mulder. He had nothing to leave behind except failure, and he’d sacrificed the ones he’d cared for the most. All for nothing. As he gazed at Scully in this dress, he envied Fox Mulder. But he also felt exasperation. Mulder could lose Scully too, and not by a bullet or a disease, but by his own stupidity.

Not long after departing the cottage, Scully and the Smoking Man wound up at the Frog Pond restaurant. After sitting down to their table, he explained to her about Cobra and why her presence was important to retrieve his genetic science. After he poured some red wine into their glasses, the Smoking Man raised his glass in a toast.

“Well, to the future.”

Scully raised her glass politely, but didn’t say anything and merely took a sip. Sitting here with him, in this dress, drinking wine was utterly unnerving.

“I must say, you look stunning,” he said to her, smiling and running his eyes over her. "I picked that out myself."

She cleared her throat and averted her eyes.

"I uncorked this one early,” he said, lifting up his wine glass. “It's like a woman that way. Time allows its beauty to unfold.”

Scully gave him a hard stare, and he decided to change his approach.

He eyed her across the table. “I’m sure you became a doctor in the hopes that you’d be able to save a handful of people in your lifetime. I bet you never imagined saving millions, having an impact on all humankind.”

She wondered if this really was possible. If this miracle cure for cancer was too good to be true, but she also knew that her cancer had been cured. It must be real, this science must exist.

He smiled at her. “You are poised to become the world’s savior. If cancer was to be eliminated, humans could live to be 150, maybe even 200 years old.”

Scully averted her eyes again, uncomfortable with this. “It wouldn’t be me. I didn’t develop any cure. I would merely be delivering it.”

He shrugged. “The story would be yours to shape. You’ve searched for truth for so many years, and now you’ve found it. The discovery of this cure is a logical progression of all your hard work.”

She sighed. “I could never take the credit for that.”

“I must insist,” he adamantly replied. “Where has your work with Mulder gotten you? You’ve outgrown him. He sits in his office waiting for leads, like the bogus one he's chasing now. Hoping for some scrap of a case to drag you in on, abusing your loyalties. You can do much more with your life, you can do much good.”

Scully swallowed, and averted her eyes. God, she hated this man sitting across from her, and partly because she felt he might be correct. She’d grown tired of the X-Files, she knew it. And she’d grown so much as a person because of Mulder. She was not the young, naïve woman she was when she first walked into his office. Mulder had grown, too. They’d influenced each other, changed each other. But in many ways, Mulder was the same; an immature, under-achieving man-child, refusing to put roots down in the earth by chasing after the unknown out there in the sky. She wondered if the IVF would actually take this time, if Mulder would be prepared to settle down into a more stable life.

He looked at her. It was time for the coup d’état. “I must tell you something else. Something that's so unbelievable, so incredible, that to know it is to look at the entire world anew.”

“What?” Scully asked.

“What we are being given, it's not the cure for cancer. It's the holiest of grails, Dana. It's the cure for all human disease.”

“How?” she whispered, feeling stunned, emotion clutching at her heart.

“It's from that final frontier,” he replied. “It's largely extraterrestrial.”

Scully wondered if this was the real reason for the exchange. “Then you would be cured.”

“That which makes miracles can also make great evil. There are those who would use this power for their own purposes. To choose who will live and who will die. Theoretically, I can be cured, but everything I've told you about wanting to make right? I'm a lonely man, Dana.”

He felt a twinge of guilt at the look on her face. She believed him, at least it appeared that way. She was picturing a world without sickness and disease. She was so good, so pure. And that damned Cobra didn’t even show up. He had to get up from the table. As he made his way outside, he thought about what he’d said to Scully about miracles and evil. For the past several months, he’d wondered if the aliens had another agenda when they’d provided these microchips. Eradicating all human disease would certainly make their invasion more successful, as healthy humans would probably make better hosts for the alien virus. Of course, he was only guessing. Who knew the real reasons behind anything those bastards did?

Scully sat at the table alone, not eating her cheesecake. She wanted nothing more than for this to all be over, to head home to Mulder as soon as possible. The waiter came and took away her untouched dessert, revealing a folded piece of paper that had been underneath the plate.

“Calico Cove. First light of day.” She looked around to see who might’ve sent her the note, but no one stood out.

*****

It was a dark and gray Friday afternoon, on March 17th, and Mulder was sitting on his couch, feeling hopeless. He was sick with worry, and he hadn’t really slept since Tuesday night. The Gunmen were there, sitting around his desk with their laptop and Scully’s. They were still searching the grid, looking for any sign of her. They were checking her credit cards for purchases, her name on FAA passenger manifests in case she’d gotten on a plane. Nothing. They kept trying to trace her cell phone, but nothing. It was turned off, and so there was no way of locating it. He kept hoping by some miracle it would turn on, and they could find her.

Mulder had managed to convince Skinner to attempt to find Cancer Man, but he’d had no luck. Skinner called Mulder the night before to tell him that he was led to believe that Cancer Man currently wasn’t in the D.C. area, but his whereabouts were unknown. He felt sick, his guts churning in fear. He was trying not to panic, not to allow himself to be overcome with emotions, but he often found himself blinking back tears. The Gunmen would throw him concerned glances, and he’d have to get up from the couch to compose himself.

This was one of those times, and Mulder walked into his bedroom to get away from the tension and fear permeating his living room. He went over to his dresser, and opened his top drawer. Inside the drawer was a small wooden chest he’d had since he was a kid. It was rectangular and flat, and he’d used it to keep certain things over the years. There were pictures of Samantha inside the chest, the keychain to the Camaro his dad had bought him when he was 16, the ticket stub to his first Yankees game. There were also some pictures that Holman Hardt had mailed him six months ago. Mulder picked it up and looked at them.

One picture was of Holman and Sheila, and their new baby. The other photos had been taken at Holman’s Kroner High School reunion. What a memorable case that had been. One picture was of Holman and Sheila dancing together on the left side of the picture, and Mulder thought the photographer must’ve inadvertently made a mistake because Holman and Sheila were slightly blurred. But the background of the picture was clear and sharp. Mulder stared at it. In the background he was sitting next to Scully, underneath a large rainbow decoration. She looked so beautiful in this photo. She was looking out at the dance floor, but he was looking at her intensely with a slight smile on his face. Mulder flipped the picture over and read the familiar inscription.

“Now you have proof.”

When Mulder had first received this picture, he hadn’t been entirely sure what Holman had meant. But then it had dawned on him. Holman had told Mulder that he gazed at Scully, and he’d adamantly denied it. As Mulder caressed his thumb over the photo, a lump grew in his throat. He’d been such a fool for so long. And now what if Scully was dead? He had no idea where she was, or how to even find her. She could be anywhere. She could be lying in a ditch somewhere with a bullet in her head. She could be dying right now, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He’d failed her, again.

The Smoking Man had systematically taken out everyone Mulder ever cared for, leaving only Scully. Cancer Man had taken his sister and made her suffer, he’d murdered his father, and he was responsible for the pain his mother had suffered, no doubt contributing to her suicide. Now he’d taken Scully too, and this was so much worse. Because unlike his parents, and even his sister, he couldn’t live without Scully. He could only hope she was alive. She’d been taken from him before by Smoking Man, abducted. She was gone for weeks. How long would she be gone this time? What if she never came back? His worst nightmare was coming true. If anything happened to her, he didn’t know what he’d do. He’d most likely eat his gun. He’d come close to that before, when she was dying of cancer. He wouldn’t put it past himself. If he thought he couldn’t live without her then, he definitely couldn’t now.

Mulder set the photo down and his eyes fell on the brown burlap puppet, the one Peattie had made. He grabbed it out of the chest, rubbing his thumb over the nail-punched eyes. That occultist had told him that Scully could never be fatally harmed by human hands. Mulder closed his eyes, squeezing the puppet in his palm, and prayed that this was true.

There was suddenly pounding on his front door, and Mulder glanced at his watch; 1:52 pm. He quickly walked out of the bedroom into the living room, walked through the opening to his foyer, and stared out the peephole at his door. Mulder vented out a desperate sigh of relief, his stomach doing somersaults, and he flew open the door. He grabbed Scully and pulled her inside his apartment, as she dropped her bag on the floor, waves of relief washing over him as his hands went to her face, holding her as he stared down at her, breathing hard.

Byers cleared his throat, and Mulder remembered that his apartment was not empty. He let her go, and stood there, staring at her. “Scully?”

Scully’s stomach was in knots. She saw the anxiety and fear in Mulder’s features. “Mulder. Did you… did you get the tape I sent you?”

He stared at her. “What… what tape?”

She sighed, closing her eyes. She thought she might throw up. Scully then looked up at him. “The tape I made, recording my conversations with CGB Spender, the Smoking Man.”

Mulder’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Scully sighed again, and averted her eyes as she proceeded to tell him almost everything that had happened from the moment she discovered that Jason McPeck had his cancer cured by a chip in his neck, the Smoking Man’s offer and his refusal to give her the science if she told Mulder anything about it, recording their conversations with the microphone underneath her blouse, driving down to South Carolina and meeting Marjorie Butters, the exchange with this Cobra person in Pennsylvania, and the Smoking Man giving her the disc with the science that would end all human disease.

The longer Scully talked, the more silent Mulder became, the more his face hardened. When she finished her tale with her five hour drive to Alexandria from Milford, Pennsylvania, Mulder didn’t know what to say. There were a lot things he wanted to say, but he had no idea what to say first. His fear had given way to rage, but he didn’t want to do or say anything from which there was no going back from.

Mulder took a deep breath, and he made sure to keep his voice steady when he spoke, but his tone was like steel, just like the expression on his face. “You lied to me.”

The Lone Gunmen exchanged nervous glances from where they’d resumed sitting at the desk, and tried not to watch what was happening in Mulder’s foyer.

Scully sighed, and her breathing quickened, her eyebrows furrowed with worry. “Mulder, please. I didn’t lie to you. I lied to him. I only had to keep you in the dark a couple days, and I recorded everything he told me. It’s all on the tape I sent you.”

“I didn’t get any damn tape.” He had crossed his arms, and taken steps backwards away from her, creating distance between them.

“Well, that’s not my fault, Mulder! I mailed it to you. I weighed the costs, and I thought everything through carefully. I couldn’t tell you about the plan before I’d left because he made the offer in such a way I couldn’t refuse. Mulder, this science, what it could mean for the world…”

She turned around and grabbed the disc from the side pocket of her overnight bag. “It’s all on the disc. What’s on here is worth whatever price I might’ve had to pay.”

“There’s nothing on that disc,” Mulder said coldly.

Scully walked into the living room, handing the disc to the Lone Gunmen. Mulder stood in the opening. He couldn’t bring himself to stand in that room with her. That disc didn’t hold any cure for anything, and he knew it. Mulder felt angry and betrayed, and he wanted to shout and yell. He wanted to ask Scully why, and how. She’d not only lied to him, simply because Cancer Man had asked her to, but she’d willingly risked her life. She could’ve been killed, and there would’ve been nothing Mulder could’ve done about it.

Scully sat on the couch while the Gunmen loaded the disc onto their laptop computer. She’d rather Mulder was emotional and argumentative, that he was raising his voice and shouting at her. This cold fury, this rampant disappointment was too much for her to bear. She wished Mulder would look at her, but he seemed determined not to look in her direction. Guilt flooded her stomach, and it was so knotted she really thought she’d be sick. But she still believed she didn’t do anything that wrong. She knew what she was doing, and she tried to keep Mulder involved with the only way she knew how. The longer he refused to make eye contact with her, to give her any kind of support, the more hurt Scully felt and the more embarrassed by Mulder’s behavior towards her in front of the Lone Gunmen.

He could feel her watching him, looking for some kind of friendly sign, some reassurance, but Mulder couldn’t even look at her, she made him sick. He started to feel a little hypocritical, but then that feeling quickly went away. He’d run off without her in the past, kept her in the dark, withheld information. But Mulder couldn’t remember intentionally deceiving her by telling lies. Maybe he lied by omission, but he couldn’t remember ever speaking an outright falsehood to her. Because he never would. He’d believed the same of her.

Mulder couldn’t understand how after everything she’d learned over the years about that black-lunged son of a bitch, she would just up and skip town with him, simply just trusting that he wouldn’t harm her. What the hell was she thinking? Not only that, how could she believe anything that evil bastard said to her? Mulder understood that finding out the truth about that chip in her neck would appeal to her, that the idea of finding the cure for cancer was too good to ignore. That chip saved her life, for which Mulder thanked his lucky stars. But what the fuck happened to his vigilant and logical partner? The Smoking Man must’ve spun one hell of a yarn to make Scully let her guard down in the time frame of only a few days, to let down her guard for a man she knew he despised above all others.

The Gunmen stared at the laptop screen, and then exchanged looks.

“There's nothing on this,” Frohike said.

“It's empty,” said Langly.

“Completely,” Byers added.

Scully jumped up from the couch, and spoke desperately. “No, it can't be. It can't be. It's got to be on there.”

She stared at the computer screen, seeing for herself the words ‘Volume empty.’ Scully felt as though she’d been sucker punched in the gut, like her heart had sunk like a lead weight. She felt humiliated and embarrassed. She’d wanted so much for the science to be on that disc, to prove to Mulder that what she had done was worth it, to hold the scientific proof that would allow her to understand what was keeping her alive.

Scully turned to look at Mulder, and slowly his eyes moved to meet hers. But the look he gave her was not very reassuring. His face might have softened somewhat, but his eyes screamed ‘I told you so.’ His eyes were angry, disappointed, and condemning.

The Lone Gunmen gave her sympathetic looks, but then they looked away. The tension in the room was palpable, and they felt extremely uncomfortable sitting there. They quietly removed the disc from their laptop, shut it down, and stood up from the desk, before walking out of the strained atmosphere of the apartment in silence.

Mulder was biting his cheek, so as not to yell and say something so harsh he’d regret it later. Scully didn’t know what to say. She felt stupid, so very stupid.

“Where are these other tapes you recorded?” Mulder asked.

“Inside my bag,” Scully whispered.

Mulder turned around and walked into the foyer, grabbing the overnight duffel bag and carrying it into the living room, setting it down on the coffee table. After he unzipped the bag, he stared down into it at the folded expensive black material lying on top. He pulled out the backless spaghetti strap dress, noticing the low cut of the front. Scully’s eyes widened in shock. She was almost positive she’d left it behind in her wardrobe at the cottage.

“What the fuck is this?” Mulder asked in a low voice. He didn’t know what to think. But he suddenly had memory flashes of expensive dresses hanging in Diana’s closet in their bedroom, ones he’d suspected she never would’ve chosen for herself.

Scully swallowed. “We had to go to dinner at this restaurant, to meet Cobra. But he never showed, only left a note on the table to meet him on the lake.”

“The Smoking Man… bought this for you, and you wore it?” Mulder asked, his tone deadly.

“Mulder…,” Scully sighed, guilt flooding her stomach, but she wasn’t exactly sure why. She didn’t think she’d done anything that terrible. It was just dinner.

He bunched up the dress in his hands, turned around, and walked out of the apartment, Scully staring helplessly after him. Mulder determinedly walked down the stairs, all the way into the basement, walking past the spot Padgett’s body had been found, opened the door to the incinerator, and forcefully threw the dress inside.

Scully sat on the couch, not knowing whether she felt like crying or throwing up. Maybe both. She looked up as Mulder walked back into the apartment.

“We’re going to see Skinner,” he said, before grabbing his leather jacket off the coat rack and walking back outside to his hallway.

Scully sighed and stood up, grabbing her duffel bag off the coffee table, and followed Mulder out the door.

*****

Scully joined Mulder in Skinner’s office, after returning the FBI fleet sedan she’d taken out. Upon sitting down in front of his desk, she told Skinner everything that had happened over the past four days, starting from where that email from DARPA had really come from to being shot at in the boat after retrieving the disc from this Cobra person. After she told her side to the tale, they sat and listened to the taped recordings of her dinner with Smoking Man and the conversation she had out on the boat before Cobra handed her the disc.

All through this meeting with Skinner, Mulder refused to look at Scully and resolutely stared ahead of him at the desk. When they listened to the conversation she’d had with Cancer Man over dinner, he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. Scully kept glancing over at him, but he staunchly refused to look at her. And when gunshots could be heard on the recording, Mulder’s hands balled into fists.

“Agent Scully, I hope you realize the grave danger you put yourself in,” Skinner said sternly.

“Yes, sir. But I believed I was doing something for the greater good; that it was worth the risk. I never once entertained the thought that CGB Spender wanted me dead, or harmed in any way. I believed he was being truthful. I still think he was telling me the truth. Maybe there really was just nothing on that disc; that this science doesn’t even exist like he thought it did. Maybe this whole plan was just to get this Cobra, this federal fugitive, out in the open to take him out.”

Mulder scoffed, shaking his head.

Skinner sighed, and looked at him. “And what do you have to say about all this, Agent Mulder?”

“He did it all for himself. To get the science on that disk. His sincerity was a mask, Scully. The man's motives never changed.”

Scully was looking at him, but he had spoken with his face still forward, still not looking at her. Was it really possible that the Smoking Man would condemn the world to suffering to cure himself of his illness? She couldn’t believe it. “You think he used me to save himself… at the expense of the human race?”

Mulder doubted whether that was Cancer Man’s purpose. He’d want to use that information to gain power, money, control, and not just to cure this supposed brain inflammation he claimed to have. “No, he knows what that science is worth, how powerful it is. He'd let nothing stand in his way.”

“You may be right,” Scully replied, wishing Mulder would look at her. “But for a moment, I saw something else in him. A longing for something more than power. Maybe for something he could never have.”

At this, Mulder turned his head sharply to look at her. What the fuck was Cancer Man longing for? Mulder thought of that goddamned black dress and felt rage once again flood his stomach.

The telephone on the desk then rang. “Skinner.”

“Sir, an Agent Jasper Brown is on the line from the FBI office in Savannah, Georgia.”

“Thank you, Kimberly,” Skinner replied, and after she put the call through, he hit the speaker button. “Skinner.”

“Hello, Assistant Director. We sent a couple agents up to the house in Bluffton, South Carolina like you asked us to. The house was empty, except for furniture. There were no personal items in the house, or any pictures or papers of any kind. Apparently, it’s a vacation rental property.”

Scully sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

“Okay, thank you, Agent Brown,” Skinner said.

“Not a problem, sir. Just let us know if you need anything else on our end.”

Skinner then hung up the call, and stared at Mulder and Scully. “Well, we’re done here. There’s nothing else to do. But I don’t think I need to remind you, Agent Scully, just how lucky you are to be sitting here. That’s all, agents.”

Mulder stood up, and walked out of the office without another word. After one brief look at Skinner, Scully grabbed her bag from the floor next to her chair, and followed him out the door and into the hallway.

“Wait, Mulder,” Scully called after him.

He stopped, and let her catch up to him. “What, Scully?”

“We can still confront him, the Smoking Man. I saw his office, where he works. His name, CGB Spender, right outside the door. It’s right here in Washington, off Independence and 5th.”

Mulder stared at her. He recalled the many times Skinner had said to him something along the lines of how near impossible it was to get to ‘these men’ like Cancer Man. If he had some nice office, right near Capitol Hill, then how hard must it be? Mulder knew what they’d find there: nothing. But he knew Scully had to see it for herself.

“Okay, let’s go,” he said to her.

At 4:32 pm they were walking up the stairs to the third floor of the brick office building on the corner of Independence Avenue and 5th Street SE. It was completely empty. There were no security guards, no office furniture, and no employees. The office which had held CGB Spender’s nameplate outside the door, his desk, book shelves, and other items inside, was also completely empty and held no signs that it had ever been occupied. Scully was in shock.

“You saw what you needed to see in order to make you believe,” Mulder said.

“Well, then what about this boy? This boy with cancer? You can't deny that. That's undeniable proof.” There was a cure to cancer, it was in that boy’s neck, and it was in her own. The science must exist somewhere.

“Even if we could convince his parents to let us march him out how long before that chip in his neck mysteriously disappears? This was the perfectly executed con, Scully. The only thing I can't figure out is why you're still alive.” She should’ve been killed. That had to have been part of the plan, and Mulder had no idea why Cancer Man would’ve just let her go without killing her. Was it really the magic charm? Is that what had prevented her death? Mulder couldn’t picture any scenario in which the Smoking Man would just let her live out of the kindness of his heart. If she was the bait for that Cobra person, she should’ve been killed as well. Hadn’t he been told once that these men don’t make mistakes?

“Mulder, I looked into his eyes,” Scully said insistently. “I swear what he told me was true.”

“Yeah, he used you.” She really didn’t get it. He turned and walked away from the empty office doorway.

“Mulder…” Scully called after him, before walking out into the darkened hallway.

As she walked towards him, he turned around to face her. “Mulder, even if it truly exists, the science on that disc, there are still things beyond sickness and beyond disease that can kill a man; that are killing him.”

Mulder nodded. “With what he has now, the bastard just might live forever.”

“No,” Scully replied quietly. “It’s what he doesn’t have.”

He stared at her. Fucking unbelievable. Mulder turned around without another word and walked away from her. Scully sighed and followed him down the stairs, out of the building, and into the parking lot, getting inside the passenger seat of his car.

Mulder drove towards Georgetown in silence, and after pulling up to the curb outside Scully’s apartment building, he finally spoke, looking ahead out the windshield, not looking at Scully.

“Don’t ever lie to me again.”

She sighed. “Mulder, I didn’t…”

“Yes, you did,” he said, interrupting her, still staring resolutely ahead. “You lied to me. You betrayed me. You betrayed my trust.”

Scully’s eyes bulged, her heart sinking into her stomach. “Mulder, it wasn’t a betrayal. I was trying to do something good for mankind. You would’ve jumped at the chance if it had been offered to you.”

“You don’t fucking get it, do you?” Mulder said calmly, quietly. “I don’t give a damn about your altruistic motives. I want to know what was going through your fucking mind.”

She swallowed. “I thought you’d understand. That you’d want me to reach for extreme possibilities. I thought that’s what you wanted from me.”

“Scully, that man has done nothing to lead us in the right direction. Ever. He’s only ever lied to us, played us like we were in some fucking game. How… how could you do this to me?”

Scully sighed. “Mulder…”

“And to find out, you were a willing participant in this scheme. That you would willingly get into a car with that son of a bitch, without knowing where you were going, without bringing along your cell phone, without… without telling me what was going on. How can you still believe the horseshit that came out of his mouth? You had no idea who you were dealing with. When he told you not to tell me about it, why wasn’t that your first clue that something wasn’t right? I clearly would’ve seen right through him. He duped you.”

Scully felt herself growing angry. “What, I was too stupid? He’s never fooled you before?”

“I didn’t say that,” Mulder said calmly. “This is about you. You had no clue who you were dealing with. I have dealt with him enough to know he’s not to be trusted, that anything he is involved in will lead nowhere good. I also thought I had made that clear to you over the years.”

She sighed. “Mulder, he was telling the truth, at least partly. I know he was.”

He felt rage once again rising up from the pit of his stomach, but he controlled himself and kept his tone of voice steady. “Only partly telling the truth is still a lie. How could you go off with him, believe him, trust him? That evil bastard put me through hell, put my family through hell. He took away everyone I ever loved. He murdered my father, took Samantha from me and made her suffer with those tests. Are you conveniently forgetting that? And even if we toss aside the Mulder family destruction, what about what he’s done to you? He had you abducted, put that fucking chip in your neck, caused your cancer and your infertility, murdered your sister. What the hell were you thinking? Jesus Christ, Scully, how could you do this to me? Do you have any fucking idea what you put me through? You lied to me, betrayed my trust, you were almost killed, all for that cigarette smoking son of a bitch.”

Scully sat there, stunned into silence, tears welling up into her eyes. She wished Mulder would get angry and yell, scream at her. Maybe it would make her get angry too, and they could argue, work this out. But his cold disappointment she couldn’t cope with. He wouldn’t even look at her as he’d said all that.

“I’m sorry, Mulder,” Scully whispered, blinking back tears.

He nodded, sighing, still not looking at her. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

Her eyes widened. Monday? She wouldn’t see him all weekend? What did that mean? The tears were threatening to fall and she quickly got out of the car, walking inside her apartment building as he drove away. She’d ruined it. She’d ruined their partnership, their friendship, and Mulder’s trust in her. All for nothing. Had she ever done anything so stupid in her life? Yes. Falling in love with Mulder was stupid, and she still couldn’t even say the words to him. And now she could feel the loss of him, of his trust, like a knife that had been thrust deep into her ribs.

*****

On Sunday morning, March 19th, Scully received a phone call from Dr. Parenti telling her that with using the piezo-micromanipulator, out of the 10 eggs they’d inseminated with Mulder’s sperm, five had become healthy blastocysts. He decided that they’d freeze two, and use the three healthiest embryos tomorrow morning when she comes in for the transfer.

Scully wanted to feel excited, but she only felt anxious over telling Mulder. She hadn’t seen or spoken to him since Friday afternoon when he’d dropped her off at her apartment. She sat at home all day on Sunday, trying to will herself into picking up the phone and calling him. Finally, at 10:00 pm, after getting on her pajamas and lying down in bed, she got up the nerve and dialed his home phone number. She’d decided that it would be best for them to speak before they have to walk into the office on Monday and spend all day together.

“Hello?”

She hesitated. “Mulder, it’s me.”

A long pause. “What is it, Scully?” he asked flatly.

Another long pause. “Um, Dr. Parenti called me today. The insemination was successful and the assisted-hatching technique worked well. The embryo transfer will be tomorrow morning. I’ll be going up there at eight o’clock.”

“All right,” Mulder said. The detachment in his voice sent a stabbing pain through her.

“Okay.” Another pause, silence.

“Okay,” he replied. More stupid, awkward silence.

She sighed. “It’s late.”

“No, it’s still early,” he whispered.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Scully whispered back.

Another long pause. “Yeah.”

“Goodnight, Mulder.”

Silence. “Goodnight, Scully.”

No one was hanging up, and more awkward silence hung between them. Finally, the dial tone hummed in her ear. Mulder had won the battle over who would hang up first. Scully pressed the end button on her cordless phone, curled up into a fetal position, and cried.


	64. “Every man believes he has his own good reason.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Cigarette Smoking Man has a plan involving Scully, and then makes a decision he never expected. Mulder and Scully are confronted with the changed atmosphere in their basement office.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of the episode "En Ami" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by William B. Davis. The dialog of the episode "Closure" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz. They belong to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulsavers – “Bitterman”
> 
> There’s no tomorrow  
> Only yesterday  
> I may have drunk too much  
> Now I’ll have to pay  
> So how far should I go  
> Oh, that’s hard to say
> 
> Wild is the sky that covers you  
> Long be the night that comforts you  
> Dark is the day confronting you  
> And pushing you
> 
> There’s a face in the mirror  
> That I don’t understand  
> See the one that I wear  
> Is not who I am  
> I made up my mind  
> And I want to stay
> 
> Wild is the sky that covers you  
> Long be the night that comforts you  
> Dark is the day confronting you  
> And pushing you
> 
> You’re such a bitter man  
> Doing all that you can  
> In the name of fun  
> Just a bitter man  
> Taking all that you can  
> All for number one
> 
> There’s no confusion  
> Only black  
> No questions left to ask  
> Like, am I coming back?  
> I made up my mind  
> And I want to stay
> 
> You’re such a bitter man  
> Doing all that you can  
> In the name of fun  
> Just a bitter man  
> Taking all that you can  
> For number one
> 
> You’re such a bitter man  
> Doing all that you can  
> All in the name of fun  
> Just a bitter man  
> Taking all that you can  
> All for number one

September 10, 1999

He pulled out a cigarette from his packet of Morley’s, struck his lighter, and took a long drag. He was once again sitting in a meeting inside the Department of Defense. It was the monthly research projects meeting. He’d spent the summer recovering from the surgery. Surprisingly, Mulder had survived it and the surgery had cured him of the abnormal brain function once the active matter that had been dormant in Mulder’s frontal lobe had been removed. Unfortunately, the second half of the surgery did not turn out as planned. Yet another failure in a line of recent failures. Not only had the surgery been unsuccessful, but while in the hospital he’d been diagnosed with lung cancer. He wasn’t really surprised. Hadn’t that Jeremiah Smith told him so years ago? Jeremiah Smith. If there was anything more goddamned unnerving than those alien bastards, it was the alien colonists who rebelled, who suddenly grew a human conscience and wanted to fucking help people.

And here he was, back to work in the government, listening to these men and women discuss anti-terrorism initiatives, nuclear fusion, robotic systems, military communication technology, and the development of an anti-submarine warfare vessel. Ho hum. Most everyone in this room had no fucking clue, like most of the people on this planet. The real meeting would follow this one.

Once the projects meeting had ended, he was only one of 10 persons who remained behind in the room. The Department of Defense senior management would be meeting with DARPA Director Zachary Markoff about the new Super Soldier program. He had not been looking forward to this meeting. But he’d known this day would come, sooner or later. The government was quietly handing over more and more power to the force that would eventually destroy it altogether. The date was set. They only had to wait. But these fools sitting in this room seemed to think the Super Soldiers could be our last weapon against the aliens. Except they’re using alien biology to create them, biology that had been surprisingly gifted by the alien colonists, apparently out of the kindness of their nonexistent hearts. And if he knew one thing, it was that those alien fuckers have their own agenda. But no one listened to him and his warnings. They just set about creating these Super Soldiers anyways. Goddamned fools, all of them.

An hour later, the meeting adjourned, and he stood up from his seat at the table, putting on his trench coat.

“Spender?”

He turned to see Markoff standing behind him, running his hand through his graying dark brown hair, his eyes filled with worry. “Yes?”

“I, uh, need your help with something. We have a situation that needs attending.”

He paused. “What kind of a situation?”

Markoff sighed. “I’m sure you’re familiar with Dr. Robert Sutherland’s work in the Advanced Biological Technology Office. His research code name is Cobra.”

He was very familiar with the work done at the ABTO, some of it commissioned by himself over the years, and he’d read many reports written by this ‘Cobra’ person. “Yes. He’s a geneticist.”

Markoff nodded. “As you know, he’s been researching the microchips for many years. Cobra’s most recent project was focusing on figuring out how these chips prevent sickness, how they’ve cured people of cancer once implanted.”

What a waste of money. Actually, everything the government did was a waste of money. What was the point? “It’s extraterrestrial. There’s no way of knowing how it works.”

Markoff’s eyes betrayed a look of triumph. “Cobra did it. Figured out the science. How the chip interacts with the human immune system and the nervous system when placed at the base of the neck. He’s discovered the cure for cancer, basically.”

His eyes widened, despite himself, before quickly masking his face.

“And Cobra believes,” Markoff continued. “That within two years he could advance this science so that all disease can be prevented and cured. Not just cancer.”

He swallowed. “So what’s the situation?”

Markoff sighed. “Well, it appears that Cobra has frightened himself. Doesn’t want the Defense Department to have his research. All of his work disappeared off his computer. Probably downloaded it onto a disc, and then hid it somewhere. God knows where. It’s not in his office and it’s not in his home. We looked. But he wants to find someone he can give it to. Maybe a noted scientist, or a doctor. Someone trustworthy. Someone he could believe is beyond the reach of corruption.”

He stared at Markoff. Did such a person even exist?

“We intercepted an email he sent to one Special Agent Dana Scully of the FBI. She had one of those chips implanted in her neck a few years ago, if I’m not mistaken.”

 _Dammit._ “What did the email say?”

“Not much,” Markoff replied. “Was vague about his research, and who he was, but he was reaching out to her and claimed to have information that would interest her. Cobra needs to be taken care of. We can’t just kill him, because then we’d lose his work. If he even suspects that we’ve found out about his success, he’ll bolt and the science he developed will be lost. We want that research. It must be returned to DARPA.”

He pulled out another cigarette, and after lighting it, took a long drag. “I’ll handle it.”

February 11, 2000

He was sitting in the dark inside Dana Scully’s apartment, waiting for her to come home. He had to go about this very carefully. The time would arise very soon when he would need her to trust him. Cobra was growing more trusting of her, at least the Scully he’d been portraying in his emails to Cobra. He felt that it was only a matter of time before Cobra was ready to hand over that research, and he knew he was going to need Scully for that.

He could hear her key in the door, and then her phone started ringing. Scully entered the apartment quickly, walking over to the phone.

“Hello?” she answered. But then she sighed and hung up.

“I should've grabbed it for you,” he said from his seat in her living room. He then lit a cigarette and took a puff. “I like to make myself useful.”

“You can start by putting out that cigarette,” she replied calmly.

She didn’t seem at all frightened that he was sitting there. She should be. Her life was in his hands. “Got it all figured out, don't you, Agent Scully?”

“All but why you can't just come to the door and knock,” Scully said.

“I did that. No one answered.” He then stood up and walked towards her.

She gave him a penetrating stare. “You're sick.”

He chuckled. He should be as honest as possible here, but he couldn’t tell her he had cancer. He didn’t think that would work very well with his plan. “I had an operation.”

“What do you want?” Scully asked impatiently.

“I want you to stop looking,” he answered.

“You've wanted that since 1973,” replied Scully. “When you ordered an end to the search for Agent Mulder's sister. Your initials are on that document.”

He had to be truthful. “Yes, I signed that order because I knew then what I know now. No one's gonna find her.”

“Why not?” asked Scully.

“Because I believe she's dead. No reason to believe otherwise.” That was the truth. He hadn’t seen Samantha since that night she ran away. She’d disappeared from that hospital and there’d been no sign of her since 1979. But he didn’t want to think about that.

“You're a liar,” Scully spoke coldly. “If you knew that she was dead, why didn't you say something earlier? Why now?”

“There was so much to protect before. It's all gone now.” His life’s work, burned up in that Air Force hangar by those goddamned faceless rebels.

“So you just let Mulder believe that she was alive for all these years,” Scully accused.

That’s right, he did. Mulder had been a necessary pawn, and the Samantha card was such an easy one to play. But he had to lay the bait. If his plan was going to work, he’d need to dislodge her belief that he was a heartless bastard. “Out of kindness, Agent Scully. Allow him his ignorance. It's what gives him hope.”

He then walked over to the door and opened it, before closing it behind him as he left her apartment.

*****

His plan had been set in motion. Dr. Sutherland, aka Cobra, had disappeared. Cobra had grown increasingly suspicious and paranoid, as well he should have, and stopped showing up to work at DARPA’s headquarters in Arlington. He’d been placed on the list of federal fugitives, but no agency was actively trying to find him. Cobra could not be dragged out by force. He’d probably destroy his work to keep it from getting back into the hands of the Department of Defense. However, Cobra was still emailing Scully, or who Cobra thought was Scully.

As he closed the door to his office at the Pentagon on Wednesday afternoon, March 8th, pulling out a cigarette, he made his way to the conference room where his meeting with Markoff and the other DoD senior management would be held. He felt confident now that Cobra had finally agreed to come out from hiding to meet Scully. The rest of his plan could now come to fruition, if it all worked accordingly. Scully was the key.

When he walked into the conference room, his eyes immediately zeroed in on Secretary of Defense William Cohen. This was unexpected. As Defense Secretary, Cohen exercised direct authority, control, and direction over the Department of Defense, he was a member of the President’s cabinet, and he was on the National Security Council. But why was Cohen here for this?

Once Markoff arrived a few minutes later, they all sat around the conference table and Cohen called the meeting to order.

After a few preliminaries, Cohen asked him about his scheme to get Cobra’s scientific research. Once he’d pulled out a cigarette from his packet of Morley’s, he proceeded to explain the details of his plan. He’d temporarily taken over the empty office building on the corner of Independence Avenue and 5th Street SE, which was owned by the NSA and occasionally used for their operations, and he’d be filling the building with Marines posing as security guards and administrative staff. He’d placed a chip in the neck of that boy who had been on the news in Virginia, whose family had refused to have his terminal cancer treated on religious grounds. He’d rented a house in rural South Carolina and set up a retired DIA operative, Doris Lewin, to live in the house and pose as a woman named Marjorie Butters. He’d also rented a cottage on a lake in Pennsylvania, where the exchange with Cobra would occur.

“And what happens after Cobra hands over the disc?” Cohen asked.

He took a drag from his cigarette, and nodded his head toward DIA officer Gerald McNamara standing against the back wall. “That’s where he comes in. He’ll be traveling with us, following behind. Once Cobra hands over the information to Agent Scully, he’ll take Cobra out.”

Cohen nodded. “Scully as well. No one outside this room can know this science exists.”

He froze. “That’s not part of the plan.”

“Plans change, Spender,” Cohen said darkly, before turning to address McNamara. “Your orders are to remove both Sutherland and Scully. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” McNamara replied.

He took another drag from his cigarette. This certainly complicated things. _  
_

*****

Just before 7:30 am on Monday morning, March 20th, Scully left her apartment and took the 30 minute drive to Dr. Parenti’s office in College Park, Maryland for the embryo transfer. She knew the procedure didn’t last long, and she’d told Mulder the first time around that it made no sense for him to drive all the way to College Park for something that was over and done with in a matter of five minutes. But with the last IVF attempt, she’d expected Mulder to be there with her, and he’d tried the best he could to get there on time, but the Silver Spring Surgeon case had prevented that from happening. Mulder had felt terrible about it and apologized to her over and over again, despite her telling him that there wouldn’t have been anything for him to do there anyways and that it really wasn’t a big deal.

Scully had no idea if Mulder would show up at Dr. Parenti’s this morning. She’d arrived just before 8:00 am, and sat in the waiting room. The receptionist asked if she would be waiting for her partner, and Scully hesitated. She didn’t know if Mulder was going to come. She hadn’t asked him to, but she told him what time the appointment was. When the clock on the wall told her it was 8:10, she knew she couldn’t keep Dr. Parenti waiting any longer. He was a busy man, and he had a lot of patients. The transfer was, of course, completed in about five minutes. And before she knew it, Scully was back on the road driving towards FBI headquarters, her stomach in knots.

When she’d walked into the basement office just after 9:00 am, Scully found Mulder hunched over his desk, wearing his glasses, reading something. She didn’t know what.

“Good morning,” he said lifelessly, not looking up at her.

“Good morning,” Scully replied evenly, hanging her coat on the rack by the door.

Mulder still hadn’t looked up at her. “Skinner wants you to write up a report on your… escapade… last week.”

She sighed at his steely tone, anger starting to bubble in the pit of her stomach. “All right.”

For the rest of the morning, Scully sat behind Mulder at the table against the wall with her laptop, typing up the report, and occasionally found herself staring up at his ‘I Want to Believe’ poster. Three of Mulder’s children were inside her body right now. She hoped at least one of them survived, but even that thought caused her heartache. She didn’t want to lose any. Mulder staunchly remained at his desk, with his back to her, not saying a word.

At 12:30 pm, when they usually broke to eat lunch together, Scully turned around to ask Mulder if he was hungry, only to see him getting up from the desk and heading over to the office door.

“See you in an hour,” Mulder said as he walked out.

Scully sighed. She was trying to hold out hope that Mulder just needed to wallow in his anger for a few days, and then everything would go back to normal. But what if it didn’t? What if he could never really look her in the eye after this? What if he now doubted her, had lost faith in her, could never fully trust her again? She didn’t want to think about that, and fought hard to control the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. If only Mulder could understand her reasons for what she did. She desperately wanted to know how the chip was keeping her alive, how it had rid her body of cancer. The possibility of ridding the world of this terrible illness was something she couldn't turn her back on. And when the Smoking Man had told her the science on the disc held the cure for all human disease, she couldn’t help but think selfishly. What if what was on that disc could cure her ovarian failure? Reversed her infertility? It had seemed too amazing to be true, but she hadn’t seen dishonesty when she’d looked into his eyes.

*****

He was in his apartment early on Tuesday evening, March 14th, packing for the little road trip he was about to embark on with Scully. His months of careful planning had all come down to this. It was finally here. And if everything went according to his plan, he’d have that science recovered in no time. He stood at one of his dressers, and opened the top drawer. He looked over his wallet collection. He picked up the tan leather vintage Asprey. He hadn’t used this wallet in several years. It had once been a favorite, and he was suddenly feeling nostalgic. He opened it and after a quick glance inside, discerning he had several hundred dollars in cash, closed it and inserted the wallet into his back pocket. He looked over his watch collection and selected his recently-purchased F.P. Journe Tourbillon Souverain. He then grabbed his packed bag, and left his apartment.

It was now 8:00 pm, and he found himself standing in Dana Scully’s apartment. He’d laid it out so perfectly in his office earlier that afternoon, his carefully thought-out speech. He’d told her of his impending death. Sure, he’d die sooner or later. The lung cancer would get him, in the end. But he couldn’t stand there, telling her he had lung cancer, and at the same time tell her he needs her in order to retrieve the cure. Way too on-the-head. A lie is more easily believed when tied to a truth. So, he told her he had brain surgery in the fall. If he’d told her that his brain surgery had been in June, well that wouldn’t have been a very good idea seeing as how she was all too familiar with what happened to Mulder.

He thought he understood Scully well enough. She was a Catholic, and Catholics always believe in redemption, particularly deathbed confessions. So regardless what she felt about him or believed him to be, she could never dismiss the possibility that he could repent of his sins and seek to make things right. He readily admitted his evil deeds, the pain and destruction he’d brought about his loved ones by his own hands. He honestly confessed his mistakes to her, admitted that his life’s work was ruined, and that he had no legacy to leave behind. Scully may not have believed him, but as a Catholic she could never have rejected his spoken desire for redemption out of hand.

He also knew that Scully would be intrigued by the chip in her neck. As a doctor, he suspected that she’d always been uneasy about this thing in her body. She’d want to know where it came from, what it really was, why a small metal microchip had rid her body of cancerous cells. Scully could never resist his offer, but only as long as Mulder wasn’t involved.

Separating Scully from Mulder was of vital importance. Mulder would never believe that it was even possible he would want to do something philanthropic, that he would seek redemption for past misdeeds. Mulder believed he was the Devil incarnate, incapable of ever doing the right thing, of ever doing something unselfish, something good. Mulder would have convinced Scully that he was not to be trusted and that his intentions must be evil. If Scully was to entertain even the slightest possibility that he could be telling the truth, he had to keep her away from her partner. As it turned out, that was working easier than he’d thought.

And now he stood there, in Dana Scully’s apartment, listening to her leave a message on Mulder’s answering machine. A message that was full of lies. He had to stop himself from grinning. Somewhere down the road, at some point in the future, Mulder would remember those lies. He’ll remember the fact that his partner, the only one on earth he trusts, lied to him for the sake of his ‘arch nemesis.’ That she’d willingly put herself at risk for the sake of ‘the Devil.’

He waited over by her front door while she was back in the bedroom, packing a bag. The phone rang, and there was Mulder leaving a message for her. When Scully returns to him, safe and sound, at first he’ll be relieved that she was unharmed. And when she tells him of the plan to retrieve the disc from Cobra, he’ll wonder why Scully is alive. Mulder will know the plan was to kill her. Maybe this will make him even more suspicious of her actions, maybe not. Either way, what Scully did will eat away at Mulder’s insides, corrode their singular trust, erode their foundation, and the cracks will grow larger. He knew that Mulder was not a forgiving man. And as he followed Scully out of her apartment, closing the door behind him, he smiled.

*****

Mulder wasn’t sure where he was going when he walked out of the basement office. But he’d had an overwhelming urge to run away, and started aimlessly wandering around headquarters. He’d had to get out of the office. He had felt himself being smothered by a blanket of doubt and mistrust, two things he couldn’t believe he was now associating with Scully, and it scared him. Mulder felt as if he would suffocate if he didn’t leave the basement. It was after 1:00 pm, and he was now walking briskly down one of the hallways on the eighth floor towards the cafeteria. He had no idea why he’d came all the way up here. He wasn’t even hungry.

He stood in line at the cafeteria, grabbing a roast beef sandwich just for something to do, but it couldn’t distract him from his thoughts. He still couldn’t believe Scully had gotten into a car with Cancer Man and went off with him alone, to a place she had no idea where, putting her life in his hands, trusting that bastard. She was the good one, the steady one, the one who always did the right thing. He wasn’t as good as her, as steady, and he tried to always do the right thing, but he felt that he often failed. How could her moral compass have been so far off? If that could so easily happen to Scully, then what hope did Mulder have?

“Hi, Fox.”

He turned his head to see the woman who had been standing in line in front of him had turned around. She was pretty, with long auburn hair, cascading down her back and shoulder in loose curls, bright green eyes, and looked to be in her 20’s. He didn’t know who she was.

“Um, hi,” Mulder replied, blinking at her.

She smirked at him, winking, and then reached into the beverage cooler to grab a bottle of water, before turning to walk further down the line towards the cash register.

“Who is that?” asked a familiar female voice.

Mulder briefly closed his eyes in annoyance, before turning around and seeing Agent Natalie Black standing behind him in line. “Uh… I, uh, I have no idea.”

Natalie grinned, her chocolate brown eyes gazing at him.

“Stay away from my secretary, Mulder,” spoke a harsh voice.

He sighed, and turned back around to see Assistant Director Thomas Gates glaring at him. So that’s who that woman with the auburn hair must be. Mulder stared at him blankly, and then turned to glance at Agent Black. Her face had hardened, her eyes were now cold, and she walked away from him. Mulder shook his head, kicking himself for coming up to the cafeteria. Why the hell did he come here? Just for a reminder of why he never comes up here?

Mulder turned to look into the beverage cooler. As he reached inside to grab a Coca-Cola, his eyes zeroed in on the Gatorade selection. _Shit!_ Scully’s appointment had been that morning. Along with the Coke, he quickly grabbed the Gatorade Frost Alpine Snow flavor and headed to the register to purchase his items. He hadn’t seen one on her table, and he knew she was supposed to be drinking it every day for the next 12 days. How could he have forgotten about the transfer? She’d just called him the night before to tell him about it. But his mind had been on other things.

Why hadn’t Scully been killed? This question had run over and over through Mulder’s mind since she’d returned. The Smoking Man was certainly capable of putting a gun to her head. Wasn’t the bullet that had taken her sister Melissa’s life been intended for Scully? As Mulder stood in the cafeteria line, he thought of the tape that had arrived in his mail on Saturday morning, filled with Scully’s conversations with the Smoking Man and that Marjorie Butters woman, who even knows what her real name is. Mulder thought of what was said to Scully about her attraction to powerful men, and her inability to love him. She hadn’t denied what Cancer Man had said, simply deflected. Mulder thought of the tape he’d listened to in Skinner’s office, with Cancer Man’s overtures and promises to Scully over a bottle of wine at dinner, his insinuations about her partnership with Mulder, the fact that Scully didn’t refute what the man had said. Mulder thought about that fucking black dress. Why hadn’t Scully been killed? Why was she alive? She must’ve had something the Smoking Man wanted.

Mulder’s stomach churned in fear, anger, suspicion, and disgust as he stood at the register, paying for the beverages and his sandwich. It was close to 1:30 by the time he got to the basement. Mulder paused when he’d reached his office door, but steeled himself and went inside.

He walked over to the desk to find Scully still sitting at the table, typing on her laptop. Mulder set the items he’d bought at the cafeteria down on his desk, and sat in his office chair. Scully hadn’t said a word when he came in, or acknowledged him in any way. The more he treated her with silence, and even vaguely concealed contempt, the more angry and hurt she felt.

Mulder turned around in his chair, grabbing one of the beverages, and rolled to the table next to where Scully was sitting, setting it down next to her laptop. “You’re supposed to be drinking Gatorade.”

Scully’s hands froze on the keyboard. She’d forgotten to buy a bottle that morning. She felt surprised that Mulder had gotten her one. She wondered if this was his apology for not showing up that morning. “Um, thanks.”

Mulder nodded, without looking at her, and rolled his chair back to his desk. The rest of the afternoon was mostly silent. Sometimes the tension was so unbearable, either Mulder or Scully would have to feign an excuse to leave the office. Mulder wished a case would suddenly make an appearance, to give them something to do. They knew how to work together, how to maintain professionalism, even when angry and disappointed in each other. Hell, they’d done it for practically an entire year up until his illness. But there was no case right now, nothing to take their minds off the events of the past few days, and so they were stuck in the basement with nothing but awkward silences and brief, tense conversation, which was thankfully kept to a minimum.

*****

It was just past 1:00 am on Thursday, March 16th, and they’d arrived at the lakeside cottage in Milford, Pennsylvania. Scully was asleep in the passenger seat next to him, and had been asleep for a few hours. He knew she had expected to be taken back to her apartment in Georgetown, but he had a feeling she was almost roped in. He had her. Their morning spent with ‘Marjorie Butters’ had her almost convinced that it was possible he wasn’t the cold-blooded son of a bitch Mulder believed he was. True, he was cold-blooded. When he had to be.

As he looked over at Scully, sleeping peacefully, he put on a pair of black leather gloves. His hands were cold, and he didn’t want their coldness to wake her up. He gazed at her, and leaned over to brush a lock of red hair from her forehead. It was no mystery why Mulder was in love with this woman. If only he’d realize it, if only he wasn’t such a goddamned fool. Scully was a fool, too. Devoting her life to Mulder, to a man so obsessed with fruitless endeavors that he couldn’t even see what she wants, what she needs, condemning her to live a lonely life. She deserved better.

He walked around the car, quietly opening her door and unfastening her seat belt. When he lifted her up from the seat, he was surprised at how light she was. She couldn’t weigh more than 100 pounds. He’d expected her to be heavier, but he wasn’t sure why. He knew she was a small woman. She opened her eyes to look at him, mumbled something, and then closed her eyes again. She was completely out of it. It was no wonder, she’d been awake since Tuesday morning.

He carried her into the house while McNamara carried her bag in behind them. He laid her down in one of the bedrooms while McNamara flipped a light switch in the en suite bathroom, sending some soft light across the bedroom, and searched her bag, finding blank tapes. McNamara also found medication, estrogen as well as vials of progesterone and syringes. They locked eyes, and then he motioned for the DIA officer to leave the bedroom.

He set the tapes back inside the bag, and the medication. He knew her abduction had caused her infertility, and Scully obviously was receiving treatment for that. He pulled out a pair of silk pajamas. He undressed her slowly and quietly, ensuring that he didn’t lay a finger on her bra or underwear. This was all about gaining trust, after all. He noticed the microphone tucked inside her bra, but that didn’t matter. He then pushed the pajama top over her arms and around her, buttoning the top as she lay down with her head on a pillow. As he slid her dress pants down her legs, he froze as he noticed small faded bruises on her inner thighs. The bruises were in an almost perfect line, a trail heading down her thighs to the crotch of her underwear. Bite marks.

Well, well, well. Isn’t this interesting? Perhaps Mulder’s not as big of a fool as he’d supposed.

He then slid the silk pajama bottoms up Scully’s legs and over her hips, pulling the bed covers over her, before turning off the light in the bathroom, and quietly walked out of the bedroom.

In the morning he’d managed to convince Scully to stick around, as he knew he could. She’d never resist this science, this cure for mankind. She was far too good, and far too Catholic. She could walk away, sure, but she’d always wonder ‘what if’ and then that Catholic guilt would rear its ugly head. Later that evening, after pulling out the backless, spaghetti strap Richard Tyler Couture dress he’d gotten for the occasion from his closet, he’d gone to her room. She’d told him the dress was beautiful in a tone of voice which told him she seemed genuinely touched by the gesture. The look on Scully’s face almost made him pity the woman. When was the last time a man bought her something pretty? That obviously was her pre-Mulder life. Mulder had probably forgotten how to take care of a woman. Diana was a long time ago. He was too busy chasing aliens and conspiracies. Dinner would be the perfect seduction. He had her in the palm of his hand. It had been all too easy.

*****

He stood there on the dock, watching Scully drive off in the motorboat. He hurriedly made his way back inside the cottage but froze as he glanced into her bedroom, seeing her packed bag on the bed. She would be leaving him soon. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He’d liked having her around, having a beautiful woman sit across from him at a restaurant. Simple pleasures he’d given up for his work, which now lay in ruins. He walked into the bedroom, and noticed she’d left the dress he’d bought her hanging in the wardrobe. He unzipped her bag, folded the dress, and laid it on top of her other clothes, before zippering it closed.

He grabbed his black leather gloves, the keys to Scully’s Bureau-issued car, and his unregistered firearm, before taking the quick five minute drive up the road. He stealthily walked the path that would lead to where McNamara had stationed himself in the woods, overlooking Calico Inlet. He heard a gunshot, and started walking faster. He came upon McNamara as he’d shot again, missing Scully, but he never missed. McNamara was toying with her, filling her with as much fear as possible before the kill shot. He took a step, aimed his gun for the back of the head, and shot McNamara, killing him instantly. He then placed the gun down by McNamara’s body, along with the leather gloves. Removing Scully may have been part of Cohen’s plan, but it wasn’t part of his. He walked back out to the car, and then took the five minute drive back to the cottage.

She had been none too pleased over what happened at the lake, and like a trusting fool she’d actually handed him the disk, before looking away, allowing him to switch it right there with a blank one. He gazed at her wistfully as she walked away, leaving him behind, alone.

Later that evening, he sat in the living room of the lakeside cottage, in front of a crackling fire, drinking red wine, thinking about Dana Scully. She hadn’t been what he’d expected, all those years ago. For months, he’d poured over FBI profiles in search of the perfect partner for Mulder. The partner that would fit his plan for Mulder perfectly, that would lead him to the path he should be on. He’d thought he’d found the perfect one.

It had to be a female partner. Mulder was more open and trusting with women, and he often tended to clash with the ‘boys club’ atmosphere of the FBI. How like Bill Mulder he was in that way. In many ways. Mulder certainly had been open and trusting with Diana. He knew Mulder’s type, the physicality of the women he chose for sexual partners. He had the same preferences: sophisticated and tall brunettes, with large breasts, confidence that frequently rose to scathing arrogance. Mulder was like him in that way. In many ways. He often wondered if Mulder had some type of Oedipus complex. That theory actually wouldn’t have been too far off, with the way Teena closed down to the boy right when he was about to enter the throes of puberty.

Diana had been perfectly selected. She’d done her role just right. But she’d done it too well, to the point she convinced herself that it was all real. How often he’d told her that love is a weakness, and that she couldn’t afford to have weaknesses. A new plan was arranged, he’d send her to Europe hoping that Mulder was so in love with her, couldn’t live without her, that he’d follow her there. Diana would then introduce him to the MUFON women, the tests, slowly drawing him in until Mulder was right where he wanted him to be: working for the project.

But Mulder didn’t follow Diana to Europe. She’d done her job, showing him where the X-Files were stored. But then he went nowhere after Diana left. Just sitting on his ass down there in that basement, not accomplishing anything. Something had to be done. Another plan was developed. It was time to move Mulder into position. 

A new FBI partner had to be chosen. The partner had to be female, but decidedly not Mulder’s sexual type. That was Diana’s place, and the plan involving her was not over. His new partner had to be a skeptic, someone who would never believe the nonsense in the X-Files. Someone who would gain his trust to a certain extent, only to debunk his work, ridicule him in front of his peers, and then the FBI would close down the X-Files, remove the crackpot in the basement. Diana would be sent back into his life, when Mulder was at his most desperate, and introduce him to the project, where he’d finally learn the truth about his sister, the existence of alien life, and he would be set on the correct path.

Yes, he’d imagined great things for Mulder, his own flesh and blood. But when it came down to it, Mulder was not his son, would not take after his footsteps. They shared the same DNA, he’d provided one half of the equation that equaled Mulder. But, in reality, he was Bill Mulder’s son.

He remembered the day he met Teena Mulder, but she was Teena Kuipers then. It was 1958, and Bill had declared he was getting married. And when he’d set eyes on this Teena creature, as Bill strutted her out in front of them all at the Christmas party, it was over with. He was a goner. He’d always thought the notion of ‘love at first sight’ was preposterous, but when he and Teena locked eyes, something exploded inside of him. But he had to sit and watch Bill and Teena get married on Valentine’s Day, 1959.

She resisted him for a while, but after being married to Bill for a year, a year filled with disappointment, she could no longer. He’d tried and tried to get her to divorce Bill, but Teena refused. She had said it would bring too much shame on her family. He always thought that was a rather empty excuse. In March 1961, the State Department sent him to Fort Bragg to handle a situation there, and he didn’t return to the east coast until August. Bill invited him over to dinner on the Vineyard upon his return, and when he set foot in their house and laid eyes on Teena’s visibly pregnant body, his stomach bottomed out. Whose child was it? He doubted it was Bill’s, but he couldn’t be 100% sure. She hadn’t told him about this. She’d kept it from him. Her face had turned red, and she couldn’t meet his eyes. For the next two months, his stomach was in a constant knot. He’d ask her who the father was, but she’d only get angry and their conversation would disintegrate into a shouting match. And by the end of the argument, he still wouldn’t know the answer to his question.

But that was until October 13, 1961. Bill called him up that evening, to tell him he had a son and that Teena had named him Fox. Bill thought it was weird, but he kind of liked it. When he’d hung up the phone, he sat down on his couch and cried. The first time he’d cried since he was a child. The boy was his. Teena had given him a son. “You sly fox” was what she always said to him whenever he’d show up on the Vineyard out of the blue for a liaison. Most of the time he’d quietly let himself into the house, and hide in the shadows of a closet or behind a door, jumping out at her. “You sly fox!” Every single time. And then he’d carry her to the bedroom, where he’d continue to make her scream.

But even after Fox was born, Teena wouldn’t divorce Bill. She’d given Fox the middle name William, and he’d finally thought he knew her real reason for refusing to divorce Bill. Bill was an oblivious husband, and a terrible lover, but Teena wanted him to be the father of her children. Because Bill was a good man; he was not. He would give her children, but Bill Mulder would raise them. And, in the end, Bill had raised Mulder to be a good man also.

Fox Mulder was living proof that he’d underestimated Bill Mulder. And all his plans to bring his son, his own flesh and blood, under the umbrella of the Syndicate, to give him real power, to show him things he could never have imagined, failed the moment he’d chosen Dana Scully to be Mulder’s new partner. How she’d shocked him, and the entire Syndicate. They clearly hadn’t realized who they were dealing with.

True, Scully was a scientist and a skeptic who hadn’t believed in Mulder’s work, his beliefs, but she believed in him. And Mulder became a powerful man in his own right, backed by this woman and her science. By the time he’d sent Diana Fowley back into the game, it was too late. Mulder’s loyalties were firmly established, Scully was the one he’d chosen. She was the one Mulder would follow to the ends of the earth. That petite redhead became everything his son wanted, everything he needed.

Scully had been specifically selected, not only for her medical and scientific background, but because he’d believed that it was important that Mulder not have any kind of personal, sexual entanglement with his new FBI partner. But as he’d sat across from her at the Frog Pond restaurant, he wasn’t surprised that Dana Scully was the woman his son had fallen in love with. She was beautiful, even more so now than when he’d first come across her seven years ago. But her beauty was not just physical, it was her mind, her loyalty, her purity. So he was not surprised that Scully was the one Mulder had devoted himself to.

Had everything he’d told Scully over the past few days been a lie? When he said that he wanted to prove what he was capable of, that he was capable of doing something good for mankind, of wanting to make things right, had he been totally dishonest? Dana Scully had looked him in the eyes, and believed there was good in him. So was there? But what legacy would he leave the world behind? He didn’t have one. Not anymore.

He glanced down at the disc on the table next to him in the living room. He grabbed it, and after putting on a coat, he walked out the back door to the dock, standing at the edge over the water. The disc did hold the cure for cancer. His lung cancer could be cured. But he could've cured it whenever he wanted just by putting a chip in his neck. And what would be the point in eradicating the world of human disease, when humankind would just be succumbing to the viral apocalypse when the aliens invade? The date wasn’t too far off.

He could be cured. He could rid himself of the lung cancer. But did he want to be alive when the invasion happened? Did he want to stick around to see the final nail in the coffin that had once been his great purpose? Did he want to live to see mankind wiped off the planet? No, he didn’t.

He dropped the disc into the lake. He pulled out a cigarette from his packet of Morley’s, lit it, and took a drag. Fuck the Defense Department. Fuck William Cohen. Fuck DARPA. Fuck those damn Super Soldiers. And fuck those alien sons of bitches.

Shortly afterwards he turned around and walked back inside the cottage. He then made his way into his bedroom, turning on the light. He started getting ready for bed, removing his F.P. Journe from his wrist and setting it on top of the desk. He reached into his back pocket and took out his tan leather Asprey wallet, but as he went to set it down, he dropped it and it fell open. He groaned in annoyance. He bent down to pick it up, noticing some cash had come loose, and when he slipped his hand inside to straighten the bills, he saw a small square piece of white paper folded inside.

He pulled the paper out, unfolding it, and stared at what was written. Butterflies filled his stomach. He’d completely forgotten about this, about why he would’ve kept this in his wallet. He hadn’t used the wallet in years. His mind started to race.

Maybe there was something he could do. Did he really care all that much about the human race? He didn’t know. But maybe he could prove what he was capable of. He could prove that he was capable of something unselfish. He could prove he was capable of making things right. Maybe not for mankind, but for two people specifically. Maybe his bloodline wouldn’t have to die out with Mulder, maybe he could have some kind of legacy.

As he stared at the piece of paper in his hand, he thought of Diana Fowley. If her research had been accurate, if the conclusions she’d drawn from the experiments were the right ones, and he had every reason to believe they were, this could be possible. Krycek had actually told him the truth. Mulder had saved Scully from that alien ship in Antarctica. Mulder’s bite marks lined Scully’s inner thighs.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a Department of Defense number from his list of contacts.

“Dr. Kevin Scanlon.”

“It’s me.”

Dr. Scanlon paused. “Haven’t heard from you in a long while.”

“Other things needed my attention.”

“Understandable,” Dr. Scanlon said.

He took a drag from his cigarette. “I need to run another test.”

“You mean the last test we were working on?” Dr. Scanlon replied. “That was almost two years ago. And they were all unsuccessful.”

“I know. But I’d like to test a theory.”

Dr. Scanlon sighed. “Okay. How many numbers do you have for me?”

“Just one.”

“Let me grab a pen,” Dr. Scanlon said, before a brief pause. “Okay, I’m ready.”

He stared down at the piece of paper in his hand. “MN 1068-06.”

*****

At 5:00 pm on Monday, March 20th, Mulder shut down the computer, and walked away from his desk to the rack by the door, where he put on his trench coat. He looked over at Scully typing on the laptop, and stared at her. He could no longer bear the tormenting thoughts that had been storming in his mind since lunch.

“Scully.”

“What, Mulder?” she asked, sounding tired and defeated, and turned around to look at him.

“Did he hurt you?”

She sighed. “No, Mulder. He didn’t hurt me. Not physically, anyways.” She still felt crushed and humiliated the disc had come up empty.

Mulder nodded, and then paused, rage threatening to return. “Did he touch you?”

Scully’s eyes widened, and she felt anger flood her stomach. How could he think such a thing? “Mulder, of course no…”

But immediately her face fell, and she was unable to finish the sentence. Scully suddenly remembered waking up last Thursday morning, in bed and in her pajamas. She’d fallen asleep in the car, fully clothed. She knew that her first gut instincts when she’d woken up had told her she’d been drugged, and then she’d rationalized this away. But there were about 12 hours unaccounted for, from when she’d fallen asleep in the car to when she woke up in that bed. She wanted to remove any fear and doubt from Mulder’s mind, assure him that something like that could never have happened. But that would be lying, and she’d vowed never to lie to him again, no matter how good her intentions.

“I… I don’t know,” Scully whispered. “I don’t think so. But I can’t say for sure.”

He felt his stomach churn as he stared at her.

"Mulder..." she breathed, pleading. "I said I was sorry. What else can I say? What do you want me to say?"

He swallowed, trying to control the rage, when what he really wanted was to storm at her, throw something, break something.

They continued to stare at each other, deafening silence filling the space around them. A ghost of the Smoking Man drifted between them in the office, an echo of his voice hung in the air, a breach in their trust, a rift in their hearts.

"See you in the morning." Mulder then turned, and left.


	65. "It appears she was unaware of the consequences of her deception."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully has a hard time coping with the aftermath of her time spent with the Smoking Man. Mulder receives some unexpected visitors.
> 
> Sidenote: We are about to reach a point in Season 7 where I will once again be taking liberties with the episode running order. I know that "Chimera" aired before "all things," but the events in "Chimera" occur following Easter Sunday (which was on April 23, 2000 and "Chimera" aired on April 2nd with "all things" airing on April 9th). So I will be switching those two episodes around for the sake of calendar dates, but also for the purpose of my story and Mulder and Scully's relationship progression. This of course brings the events surrounding "all things" even closer than I had anticipated and now I'm freaking out, but whatever lol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depeche Mode – “Secret to the End”
> 
> When I look at you  
> I’m probably the same way too  
> I got a feeling that it’s coming soon  
> Could this be the end?
> 
> And when I look around this room  
> There must be something I can do  
> Can I convince you that it isn’t true,  
> We’ve come to the end?
> 
> Oh, did I disappoint you?  
> I wanted to believe it’s true  
> Oh, the book of love  
> Was not enough to see us through
> 
> The problem should've been you (should've been you)  
> Should've been you (should've been you)  
> Should've been you (would've been you, should've been you)  
> If it hadn’t been me (could've been you, would've been you)  
> Should've been you (could've been you)  
> Should've been you  
> If it hadn’t been me
> 
> It seems so obvious to you  
> You’re feeling what I am feeling too  
> The final chapter in the contract expires soon  
> We’ve come to the end
> 
> Thank God I’m not the same as you  
> You always know exactly what to do  
> Is who I am, is not for you?  
> We’ve come to the end
> 
> Oh, did I disappoint you?  
> I wanted to believe it’s true  
> Oh, the book of love  
> Was not enough to see us through
> 
> The problem should've been you (should've been you)  
> Should've been you (could've been you)  
> Should've been you (would've been you, should've been you)  
> If it hadn’t been me (would’ve been you, could've been you)  
> Should've been you (would've been you, should've been you)
> 
> If it hadn’t been me (could've been you, should've been you, could've been you)  
> Should've been you (could've been you, should've been you, could've been you)
> 
> If it hadn’t been me (would've been you, could've been you, would've been you)  
> If it hadn’t been me (would've been you, would've been you, should've been you)  
> If it hadn’t been me (should've been you, could've been you, should've been you)  
> If it hadn’t been me (could've been you, could've been you, could've been you)  
> If it hadn’t been me

On Friday morning, March 24th, Scully sat in her car in the FBI parking garage. She’d arrived at 8:15 am, but found herself unable to open her car door and get out. She didn’t want to head inside the J. Edgar Hoover Building. She didn’t want to go down into the basement office. She’d endured four days of Mulder’s sullen, stony anger and she wasn’t sure she could bear it much longer. Since she’d returned to work on Monday, following her foolhardy mission to get her hands on the cure for cancer, each passing day had grown less awkward, but she’d grown increasingly miserable. However, the awkwardness and misery was below the surface, undetected by their peers and superiors whenever they happened to travel together in the building.

On Tuesday afternoon they walked together up to Skinner’s office to review the report Scully had written up on the events of the previous week. On Wednesday, they had to sit in a conference room all morning listening to the discussion of the FBI’s annual Uniform Crime Report for 1999. Just as Scully had guessed that no one had detected any change to their partnership once it had become physical, that no one could truly detect the passion and sexual intimacy that blossomed underneath their exteriors after so many years of platonic intimacy, she also guessed that no one could see that their intimacy and passion was currently wilting in a fiery blaze of hurt and anger.

The days had not really changed all that much. She worked with Mulder all day, although currently there was really nothing to work on and so they were restricted to basement dwelling. Each morning she’d arrive at the office, hoping to see a change, hoping to see a friendly face, some sign that Mulder understood her actions and had forgiven her, hoping for something that signaled to her that they could just move on from this mistake. But each morning she was greeted by Mulder’s withering stare of cold disappointment, and his personal disregard.

Scully would try to gather as much friendly interest as possible in her tone of voice and ask Mulder if there was anything promising in their email or any messages concerning case leads left on the voicemail. His answer was never in the affirmative, but his tone was acerbic and barbed. And since no personal interaction was actually required between them, her days spent in the basement office became less awkward.

They were now taking separate lunches, as each day Mulder would stand from the desk with a terse “See you in an hour” and leave Scully behind to eat alone. As she sat at the desk, dully forking her chicken salad and forcing down her Gatorade, she felt it was somewhat ironic that he would abandon his office to her. She never would’ve imagined that before. At the end of the day, Mulder would silently get up from the desk and walk over to the rack, put on his trench coat, and with a brusque “See you in the morning” with his back to her, he would depart the office. That was the most they spoke to each other during the day, and surprisingly the atmosphere in the office became less awkward, less strained with each passing day.

But once Scully left the office to return home to her empty apartment, each night became progressively more miserable. The nights were very hard on her. She had expected to be thankful to have a bed all to herself, without a companion whose large presence took up so much space and who constantly hogged all the bed covers, so she could finally get some decent sleep in order to function the next day. But she fell asleep each night feeling dispossessed, and woke up each morning feeling a sense of bereavement.

She found herself wanting to cry often, both at the office and at home, but would fight the tears with every fiber of her being. Scully believed that Mulder’s feelings couldn’t possibly be stronger than the anger and disappointment she felt towards herself about her own actions. But she wanted him to blame her, scream at her, fight with her, and then forgive her and move on. She wanted almost anything else other than his cold detachment. She wanted him to do anything else other than ignore her. But ignoring her was something Mulder seemed determined to do.

Scully felt lonely and abandoned, the stifled dissatisfaction and depression over the current state of her life had been replaced by a painful emptiness. And as she sat in her car in the FBI parking garage, she knew for a fact that she couldn’t live with Mulder and she couldn’t live without him. They were everything to each other, everything they were was because of each other. She loved him like she loved the good parts of herself, she hated him like she hated the bad parts of herself. She hated Mulder’s anger, and his eschewal of her. She hated feeling like she let him down and disappointed him, it made her sick to her stomach, and she also hated herself for feeling that way.

Because despite being angry at herself, Scully still didn’t believe she’d done anything so terribly wrong. She didn’t believe she’d done anything Mulder wouldn’t have done. In fact, he’d done much worse. She couldn’t count all the times his reckless behavior had brought him, and her, to the brink of death. And it suddenly came to her, as she sat there in her car, that they were not equals, not really. For it now seemed to her that Mulder held a completely different set of standards and expectations for her than he did for himself. She loved him, loved him so much it hurt, and she understood him, accepted who he was and why he did the things he did. She knew that Mulder loved her, but now it seemed as though he didn’t love her unconditionally, and he didn't understand her.

She kept thinking of the Smoking Man’s words to her. They ran in circles around her head, no matter how hard she tried to push them away. _“You're drawn to powerful men but you fear their power. You keep your guard up, a wall around your heart. How else do you explain that fearless devotion to a man obsessed, and, yet, a life alone? You'd die for Mulder, but you won't allow yourself to love him.”_ … _“_ _Where has your work with Mulder gotten you? You’ve outgrown him. He sits in his office waiting for leads, like the bogus one he's chasing now. Hoping for some scrap of a case to drag you in on, abusing your loyalties.”_

The small truths behind his insinuations of who she was and her relationship with Mulder had found their way behind her guarded defenses. She could feel her anger and resentment towards Mulder grow. She also wondered if the Smoking Man knew about Daniel. It was possible, as he seemed to know everything else about her. She suddenly felt surprised that the thought of Daniel didn’t send her spiraling into the familiar feelings of guilt and shame. Now it just made her feel annoyed, and tired.

Maybe things were better this way. Scully was lonely and miserable whenever they were apart, she was distracted whenever they were together. Her love for him was intensely passionate, all-consuming, and frightening. So maybe this breach had been for the best. She wasn’t going to lose herself over this, over him. He would’ve left her eventually, either for this work he childishly refused to give up or by his death. She wouldn’t have been able to cope with either scenario. But now she was going to take back whatever control she’d lost.

As Scully stepped out of her car and walked towards the employee entrance of the Hoover Building, her self-preservation was taking hold, and she erected walls of steel around her heart, a guarded veil over her face.

*****

Just before 7:00 pm on Thursday, March 23rd, there was a knock on Mulder’s apartment door, and he got up from the couch and walked towards the door, staring out the peephole. He stepped back from the door and sighed, before opening it and laying a blank stare on the three men standing there. One of them was holding a 12-pack of beer, another was holding two large pizza boxes.

“ _The Abyss_ is about to start on The Sci-Fi Channel,” Langly said, before he followed Frohike and Byers inside Mulder’s apartment.

Mulder turned and watched them walk past him and invade his living room. He sighed again, and closed his door, turning the lock before he joined them. After sitting down on the couch next to Byers, he grabbed a beer and a piece of pizza, and settled down into watching the movie.

About 45 minutes later, after some pizza and beers were consumed in comfortable silence, the Gunmen exchanged glances and Frohike cleared his throat from his perch on the chair in front of the desk. “So, uh, Mulder… how’s that lovely partner of yours?”

He sighed. “She’s fine, I guess.”

The Gunmen exchanged another look. “So you’re still mad at her, huh?” asked Langly.

Mulder took another sip of his beer, but didn’t say anything.

“Did she apologize?” Frohike asked.

He sighed again. “Yes.”

Frohike’s face turned into a scowl. Langly shot him a pointed look, but the scowl remained. Byers shook his head at them, and then looked at Mulder. “Are you sure you’re not just angry with Scully because she pulled a ‘Mulder’ on you?”

He turned an amusedly confused expression on them. “What the hell’s a ‘Mulder’?”

“Oh, you know, it’s when someone runs off half-cocked to an unknown destination without a word to anyone, leaving his loved ones to wonder whether they’ll ever see him again, dead or alive,” explained Frohike.

“You specialize in them,” said Langly.

“It was named it your honor,” added Byers.

Mulder turned to look back at the television, nodding his head slowly, his tongue firmly planted in his cheek.

Frohike looked at his two companions. “How many times do you think Mulder has pulled a ‘Mulder’ on Scully, Byers?”

“Hmm,” Byers replied. “I don’t know. I’ve lost count.”

“There was that time he went off to Puerto Rico, and Scully couldn’t find him until she’d seen the name George Hale on the passenger list,” Langly supplied.

“Don’t forget what happened at Ellens Air Force Base,” Frohike said.

“Oh yeah, that was bad,” Byers nodded. “Didn’t she have to hold a government employee at gun point just to get him out of there?”

“Yeah, she wasn’t too happy about that,” replied Langly.

Mulder kept his slowly reddening face staunchly towards the television, refusing to look at his friends or acknowledge their conversation in any way.

“Didn’t he jump onto a train with a bomb on it?” asked Byers.

“Yep, he did,” Frohike replied. “He also ditched her at his mother’s house in Connecticut, before driving off like a maniac back to that doctor who drilled holes in his head, started hallucinating, and then nearly killed Scully and himself.”

“Thank goodness Scully showed up, though,” said Langly. “Or the police would’ve shot him as a violent criminal.”

Mulder’s eyes widened, and he swallowed. But he still refused to look over at the Gunmen or add to this conversation.

Byers took a sip of his beer, and then spoke. “There was that whole Bermuda Triangle fiasco.”

Frohike and Langly groaned in agreement, nodding their heads. “It’s a good thing Mulder at least told us where he was going, so we could tell Scully,” Frohike said. “Otherwise, he would’ve been a goner.”

Mulder heaved a deep sigh, but resolutely watched the television even though he had no idea what was happening in the movie.

“Didn’t Congress throw her in prison for contempt while Mulder was running all over Russia with that Krycek guy?” asked Langly.

“She knew where I was!” Mulder suddenly blurted out.

The Gunmen exchanged grins, and then looked at him. He immediately turned back to look at the TV.

“What do you think is the worst ‘Mulder’ that Mulder has ever pulled?” Byers asked.

“Hmm,” Frohike and Langley replied in unison.

The living room suddenly fell silent except for the TV promo for the upcoming film _Gladiator_ displayed on the television screen, as the Gunmen sat there thinking; Frohike crossing his arms and looking up at the ceiling, Byers running his fingers through his bearded chin, Langly tapping his fingertips against his mouth.

“I got it,” Langly said after a minute. “He left Scully at that old mill in the middle of nowhere Maryland with that alien bounty hunter, who then forced her into her car and made her spend an entire night with that ice pick thing against her neck.”

Mulder heaved a sigh of frustration. “I thought he was dead! I didn’t think she was in any danger!”

The Gunmen stared at him, and then he turned his attention back to the movie on The Sci-Fi Channel.

“But you’re wrong, Langly,” Frohike said. “That one wasn’t the worst. The mother of all ditches was when he ran off to Alaska.”

“Oohhh,” Langly and Byers said in union, nodding their heads dramatically.

Mulder closed his eyes, and sighed in frustration.

“He left her that melodramatic email telling her he couldn’t let her risk her career for his personal quest, but wouldn’t tell her where he was going,” said Langly.

“And then he nearly died of hypothermia and alien retro-viruses,” Byers added.

Frohike stared at Mulder. “Thankfully Scully tracked him down just in time because she was the only one who knew how to treat him. If she’d shown up just a minute or two later, he would’ve been sleeping with the fishes.”

Byers nodded in agreement. “How many times do you think Scully made Mulder apologize for pulling a ‘Mulder’? Or sat around and sulked afterwards?”

“Hmm…” Frohike and Langly replied, before crossing their arms and acting as if they were thinking really hard.

“Do you think that if some government agent told Mulder he could get the cure for all human disease from some alien technology, but the only requirement was that he not tell Scully anything about it, what do you think he would’ve done?” Frohike asked. “Do you think he would’ve pulled a ‘Mulder’?”

“Oh yeah,” Langly said.

“Definitely,” agreed Byers.

Mulder couldn’t take it anymore and got up off his couch, walking into his bedroom. He got out of his jeans and pulled on a pair of gray sweatpants, before pulling his navy blue sweatshirt over the white cotton undershirt and slipping on a pair of sneakers. He grabbed his keys, his ankle holster with small handgun, along with his FBI badge, and then walked back out to the living room.

“I’m going for a run. You stooges better not be here when I get back.”

The Lone Gunmen exchanged amused looks and watched Mulder close his apartment door behind him, before settling in to finish watching _The Abyss_.

*****

Mulder arrived back at his apartment just after 10:00 pm on Thursday night, sticky from his run at Howard University’s outdoor track in D.C. He’d scolded himself for putting off the unavoidable, for refusing to face Scully and really talk about what happened. A wave of anger would wash over him as he ran, distracting him, and then he’d run harder, struggling to keep his thoughts clear. After running laps until he couldn’t run anymore, he drove to the Jefferson Memorial and then walked around, thinking.

He wanted to understand what Scully believed. Not only the existence of God, but that God was just. Mulder had been starting to believe recently. She wanted to believe in a miracle cure, in the chance that someone evil could have the desire to do good, redeem himself. For years, Mulder had been trying to get her to believe in extreme possibilities. Yet, whenever she chose to do so, it often left him feeling exasperated and confused. Mulder felt a sense of shame when he admitted this to himself. He just didn’t understand her sometimes.

During his run, and his walk around the Jefferson Memorial, he kept pushing the image of her face away, attempting to suppress his confused thoughts and emotions. He started growing tired, and then made his way home to Alexandria. He unlocked his door and stepped inside, closing and locking it behind him. It was dark inside and the Lone Gunmen had left. As he turned from the door, he suddenly heard the flick of a lighter and saw a fiery blaze spark in his peripheral vision. Mulder turned his head sharply to see the Smoking Man sitting at the head of his dining room table, taking a puff from one of his cigarettes.

“Hello, Agent Mulder.” He then got up from the dining table, and stood facing Mulder.

“I should kill you where you stand,” Mulder spit out, anger flooding his stomach like hot lava.

“Good. You’ll be doing me a favor. Of course, murdering an unarmed man might be quite the blemish on your personnel file.”

Mulder gave him a sarcastic look. “Oh, that’s right. You’ve supposedly come down with a terminal illness. You’ve got some real fucking nerve coming here.”

“Calm down. I’m here as a friend. You’re always so damn dramatic. Was what I did so terrible?”

Mulder glared at him. “You had Scully lie to me. You put her life in danger.”

He gave Mulder a penetrating stare. “And which of those two things bothers you the most?”

Mulder opened his mouth to answer, but then quickly closed it. What was Cancer Man insinuating?

He walked away from the dining table and out towards Mulder in the foyer, causing Mulder to take two steps backwards towards the opening to his living room. He took a good look at the Smoking Man, and he really did look sick. He looked awful, gaunt and gray-faced.

“For the record, I didn’t make Scully lie to you. She did that on her own. I simply told her not to tell you of my plans. She told a white lie so that you wouldn’t worry about her while she was away. It’s not like her to disappear without saying anything to anyone. I believe that’s more your style, isn’t it?”

Mulder glared at Cancer Man, and felt a twinge of guilt in the pit of his stomach.

“Did you get the tape I sent you?” he asked Mulder.

Mulder stared at him. “I thought it was Scully who mailed that tape.”

“Oh, she did,” Smoking Man replied, taking a drag from his cigarette. “But my man intercepted it. I took it to the Milford post office a couple days later, sent it overnight express delivery.”

“Why would you do that?” Mulder asked. He had no idea what this bastard was up to.

“So you would know that everything Agent Scully told you was the truth,” he replied simply.

Mulder shook his head in disgust. “I don’t have time for this bullshit. Get out.”

“I take it you wouldn’t believe me if I told you that everything I said to Agent Scully about the disc was, in fact, true.”

He stared at Cancer Man. “So what if it was? You got that disc. It’s yours. And now you can use it to whatever evil ends.”

He took another drag from his cigarette. “Would you believe me if I told you I destroyed it?”

He had a notion that Cancer Man was being honest, but Mulder pushed that feeling away. He could see that Cancer Man believed himself a real humanitarian; he really did see himself as earth’s benefactor with that Consortium and ‘project’ of his. Until the shit hit the fan, anyways. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here to protect my legacy, or what’s left of it. Unfortunately, that’s you.”

Mulder scoffed, revulsion filling his stomach.

“You hate me, I know,” Smoking Man said, and then took a puff of his cigarette. “But you should be thanking me.”

“Yeah? For what? What have you ever done for me?” Mulder felt hatred burning through his veins.

Anger rose in the pit of his gut. “You have no idea what I’ve done for you. I’ve certainly protected you all these years. I’ve protected you since you were born, _Fox_. I gave you Scully. I’ve protected her, too.”

“You’re full of shit,” Mulder said bitterly. “You wanted her dead. I still don’t know why you let her live.”

Smoking Man looked at him hard. “I have never wanted Scully dead.”

Mulder shook his head in exasperation. “But you sent Krycek to kill her, didn’t you? And that dumbass shot her sister instead.”

“That was an unfortunate mistake, and Krycek’s been handled. But getting rid of Agent Scully was not my decision. Those decisions were made by the group. Certain things were necessary and retrieving the digital tape was of utmost importance. That didn’t mean I actually wanted Scully dead. I never have. In fact, I’ve saved her life. On more than one occasion. When she was abducted, I returned her to you. I let you have the cure for her cancer.”

“You’re the reason she got cancer in the first place!” Mulder exclaimed.

The Smoking Man shrugged slightly. “I never told her to take that chip out of her neck.”

Mulder glared at him.

“I also saved her life just recently,” he continued. “I put a bullet in the head of the sniper who had his rifle aimed at Scully after she received the disc from Cobra.”

Mulder’s eyes widened. The plan really had been to kill her. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved Scully had been saved, or angrier than ever that she’d willingly put herself in that situation.

“And many more circumstances over the years which you know nothing about,” Smoking Man concluded, before taking another puff from his cigarette. “Some deaths are necessary for the greater good. But Scully’s death would serve no real purpose. I never had any intentions of letting her die, and certainly none of killing her myself.”

He turned and put his hand on the doorknob, Mulder staring at him with a hardened expression. At that moment, Mulder understood completely why Scully chose to believe Cancer Man. He stood there in front of Mulder, smoking that damn cigarette so calmly and believing in his own version of righteousness. It didn’t matter if there were countless innocent lives lost down the path that had led him here, for Cancer Man believed they were all necessary sacrifices, including his own family members. But Scully could see a glimpse of regret that lied dormant somewhere underneath all that. It’s not like she’d wanted to see good in him, she had to see it in order to believe what he was telling her was true, in order to believe in a miracle cure. And it had been true. There was a cure for cancer out there.

As Mulder watched Cancer Man suddenly turn and look at him, his hand still on the doorknob, Mulder realized with a sickening sensation that he could’ve become that man standing in front of him. He could’ve become consumed with his bitterness and anger, consumed with an obsession, believing without a doubt of his unerring self-righteousness, blind to the destruction he caused to those around him, especially to those he loved. It was only because of Scully that Mulder did not become that man.

The Smoking Man’s expression suddenly very grave. “You expect Scully to be perfect, but she’s just a woman trying to do her best. You think I’m the Devil, but I’m just a man. A man who’s had to make some very difficult decisions over the years, but I believed I was doing what was best. There may come a day when you find yourself in love with a woman. There may also come a day when you find yourself a parent. And then I’m sure you’ll also be faced with some very difficult decisions.”

Mulder stared at Cancer Man as he opened the door to walk out, not knowing what to think about those last statements. But then the Smoking Man turned back again in the doorway, thinking of the Defense Department, the Super Soldiers, the impending invasion, and stared at his son.

“I _am_ dying, Mulder. There will come a day, perhaps sooner than you think, when I can no longer protect you, and Scully. So don’t be a fool.”

With that, the Smoking Man walked out, closing the apartment door behind him. Mulder stood there, staring at the door. He then went into his living room, pulled out the tape recorder, and started listening again to the tapes Scully had made. He’d listened to them several times, but blinded by rage during every listening session. This time, he was going to listen with a clear head, he was going to try to listen with Scully’s ears, to discern her reasons for going along with Cancer Man’s plan, to understand her.

*****

When Mulder awoke early on Friday morning, March 24th, he found his anger with Scully had all but disappeared. But in its place sat the burden of guilt, like a lead weight in his stomach. She hadn’t betrayed him, not really. Frohike was right. If the Smoking Man had come to him instead with that offer, or something similar, and his only stipulation was Mulder not breathes a word of it to Scully, he would’ve gone off with him. And he wouldn’t have told Scully. He also wouldn’t have left a reassuring message for her not to worry about him. He would’ve just ran off and disappeared. And when he returned, she wouldn’t have demanded apologies. She wouldn’t have sulked for a week and ignored him. Scully didn’t let him down. He let her down.

Mulder bolted out of bed, quickly showered and dressed, and was in the basement office just after 7:00 am. He had to find a case for them to work on. He was desperate. If they could just get back into their regular routine, they could ease back into a comfortable demeanor with one another, and things would go back to normal. Scully would see he was no longer angry, and everything would be fine. He just needed to find a case.

Of course, because of the IVF procedure the case had to be close to home. Scully probably shouldn’t get on a plane. Mulder didn’t know if plane travel would affect anything negatively, but he didn’t want to take that chance. It also couldn’t be a case where Scully had to physically exert herself, and she could have frequent breaks to sit and rest. This was going to be a serious challenge. By 8:30 am, he hadn’t found anything, but Mulder was determined to find something for them to work on by the end of the day.

At 8:42 am, Scully walked through the office door, and Mulder looked up from the computer monitor to see her hanging her jacket on the coat rack.

“Good morning,” Mulder said in a far friendlier tone than he’d used all week, and smiled at her.

“Good morning,” Scully replied, as she turned around, her tone cold as steel, which matched the expression on her face.

Mulder felt his stomach twist into knots. She silently walked over towards the desk, and around it, before taking her seat at the table behind him.

“Anything in the email or the voicemail?” she asked.

He could hear cold resentment in her voice, and guilt once again flooded his stomach in waves.

“Um… no, not yet. But hopefully something will come up today.”

“Hmm,” Scully replied.

Mulder sighed, and returned to his computer. The rest of the morning didn’t turn up anything. At 12:21 pm, his stomach started to growl and he turned around in his chair to look at his partner, sitting at the table with her back to him, reading the newspaper.

“Hey Scully, do you wanna go get some lunch? My treat.”

He watched her posture stiffen. “No, thank you. I’m going to run some errands on my lunch break.”

Mulder’s stomach churned with guilt. “Oh, okay. Just make sure you eat something. I hope you’re getting enough protein.”

“I know what I need to do, Mulder.”

His face fell and his eyes closed at her icy tone, as he turned his chair back to face his desk. Mulder then got up, retrieved his trench coat from the rack, and left the office, before walking two blocks from the Hoover Building to the narrow corner diner with the long Formica counter surrounded by pale blue and white décor, and ordered his usual burger and fries, but he barely touched it. He was back in the basement by 1:30 pm, but Scully was gone. At 1:45, she walked through the office door, and hung up her jacket.

“How was your lunch?” Mulder asked, making sure his tone was friendly and casual.

“Fine,” she replied icily, and once again returned to her spot at the table behind him.

Mulder sighed, and returned to the work of finding a new case. He emailed his contacts at different local law enforcement agencies, Chuck Burks, and he even sent an email off to Agent Cole. He frequently checked the internet for breaking news stories in the surrounding D.C. area. But by 4:00 pm, he still hadn’t found anything.

At 4:32 pm, Scully stood up from the table, where she’d sat silently all day, the indignation seeping out of her to form a brick wall keeping Mulder out, and he watched her walk over to the coat rack, and put on her jacket.

“Scully.”

She turned from the doorway and looked at him, her expression a mask, a wall in front of her.

“Scully, I’m sorry.”

She nodded. “See you on Monday.”

With that, Mulder watched her turn and walk out to the hallway. The guilt that had been eating away at him all day was now joined by its old friends, fear and anxiety.


	66. "I might never have been so strong now as I cross to face you and look at you, incomplete, hoping that you will forgive me for not making the rest of the journey with you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully faces a crossroads. Mulder goes the distance, literally 55 miles, in an attempt to make amends with her. Scully learns her IVF results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depeche Mode – “When the Body Speaks”
> 
> To the soul's desires  
> The body listens  
> What the flesh requires  
> Keeps the heart imprisoned  
> What the spirit seeks  
> The mind will follow  
> When the body speaks  
> All else is hollow
> 
> I'm just an angel  
> Driving blindly  
> Through this world  
> I'm just a slave here  
> At the mercy  
> Of a girl
> 
> Oh, I need your tenderness  
> Oh, I need your touch  
> Oh, I dream of one caress  
> Oh, I pray too much
> 
> To the soul's desires  
> The body listens  
> What the flesh requires  
> Keeps the heart imprisoned  
> What the spirit seeks  
> The mind will follow  
> When the body speaks  
> All else is hollow
> 
> You keep me waiting  
> For the promise  
> That is mine  
> Please stop debating  
> Please stop wasting  
> Your time
> 
> Oh, I need your tenderness  
> Oh, I need your touch  
> Oh, I dream of one caress  
> Oh, I pray too much

At 9:41 am on Saturday, March 25th, Mulder awoke on his living room couch, after finally succumbing to sleep sometime after three o’clock, in a state of panic. He’d had that dream again. The dream that started out so sweetly, but soon became a horror. He’d been having this dream frequently for over three weeks. It would always start out in his living room, with him and Scully on his couch, their arms wrapped around one another, kissing and whispering. But before long, his hands would start to sink into her skin as she would slowly fade away. He’d frantically try to hold on to her, keep her in his arms, but it was no use. She’d fade, slowly becoming more and more transparent, until she was gone.

Even now, as Mulder lay on his couch, his heart pounding and his stomach knotting, he could hear the sound of his own voice ringing in his head, his desperate pleas for Scully not to leave him and his heartbroken apologies. He didn’t need a master’s degree in psychology to understand why he was having this dream lately. He knew he was afraid of losing her, and had come close to losing her when she ran off with that cigarette smoking son of a bitch. Upon waking, he’d rationalize the fears of his dream away, reminding himself that Scully was alive and well, she wasn’t harmed in any way, everything was fine.

But the fading memory of this most recent dream seemed much more dire and grief-stricken than all the others, and as Mulder sat up on his couch he felt an unexplainable sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. Scully’s face swam in front of his eyes, the memory of when she’d left their basement office the previous afternoon. The way she’d said “See you on Monday” had filled him with fear. He couldn’t explain it, but there was something ominous in her tone of voice and the expression on her face. She wasn’t just angry with him, there was something else there, something final, something like defeat, something that Mulder felt was foreboding.

He quickly stood up from the couch and walked into his bedroom, removing his sweatpants and t-shirt before jumping into the shower. Mulder then pulled on a pair of dark jeans, a clean white undershirt, and his heather gray sweater, before slipping on a pair of sneakers and walking over to his dresser, where he grabbed his wallet, keys, gun holster, and FBI badge. As Mulder started to walk out of the bedroom, he quickly turned around and walked back to his dresser, where he grabbed Scully’s new apartment key from his ceramic change bowl. He kept forgetting to put the new one on his key ring, and he didn’t want to forget again.

Twenty minutes later Mulder was pulling up his car alongside the curb outside Scully’s apartment building. After getting out and locking the car doors, he walked up to the third floor and down her hallway until he found himself standing outside her door. They had to work this out, they’d put off talking about it long enough. He’d failed her, and he had to own up to it before any more damage was done. Mulder lifted his right hand and knocked on Scully’s door.

There was no answer, and he knocked again. Still no answer, and the apartment sounded quiet inside. Mulder’s sense of foreboding grew, and he pulled out the new key to Scully’s apartment, unlocked her door, and went inside. He walked into her living room, with her couch, end tables, chairs, coffee table, television, and fireplace. Everything was neat and tidy, as expected. He then walked through the living room and into her hallway, passing the guest room and bathroom, and stepped into the threshold of the master bedroom. Unlike his bedroom, the bed was made and there weren’t any clothes thrown all over the floor. Also unlike his bedroom, the room smelled like Scully: clean and sweet.

Mulder then walked away from the bedroom doorway and back to the hallway, where he then made his way into the kitchen. It was spotless, as usual. Scully always kept her kitchen perfectly clean, as if it could be photographed for one of those home décor magazines. There were no dirty coffee mugs on the counter next to the sink, there were no clean dishes left on the dry rack; nothing out of place, nothing that would prove the kitchen had been used recently. Mulder then noticed a small piece of lined white paper on the dining table, and he could see there was writing on it. He stepped closer to the table, grabbed the paper, and read what was written.

“I’m spending the weekend at Charlie and Jennifer’s house. Below is their home phone number in case you don’t believe me.”

Mulder felt the lead weight of guilt in the pit of his stomach grow heavier, and sighed. Did he really have Scully doubting his trust in her, whether he could believe the things she told him? More than likely this was just meant as a dig. If it was, he deserved it. God, he’d acted like such a fucking dick. He glanced at the phone number at the bottom of the note. He wondered if he’d come across as a real asshole if he actually called it to talk to her. He then felt kind of amused over the fact that Scully had left this here, as if she’d known he would show up at her place at some point over the weekend. Mulder supposed that she’d guessed he would call her, and when she didn’t answer her phones, he’d show up here to look for her.

He wondered why Scully would suddenly leave town to stay in Baltimore for the weekend. Was she just trying to get away from him? Put more distance between the two of them? Was she trying to convince herself that she needed space from him? That she needed to think about things? Mulder started to feel the sense of dread growing.

*****

On Saturday morning, Scully sat at her home computer, staring at the screen of a Word document. It held a letter she’d written the night before, addressed to Skinner. It was brief, only one small paragraph, but the effects of it could be cataclysmic. After writing it the night before, she hadn’t been able to print it out and sign it like her intention. And today, she still found herself staring at the words, unable to print them onto paper.

Scully felt tears well up in her eyes, and she furiously blinked them back. She had no idea what she was doing with her life, or where it was going. She felt her life was at a standstill. She was trying not to get her hopes up about the current IVF cycle she was in the midst of, knowing that it was less than a week away before she’d take a pregnancy test. Pregnancy would be a real, legitimate impetus to break free of the X-Files. But what if the pregnancy test was negative? Without motherhood, what was she going to do with the rest of her life? What was she going to do about Mulder?

Of course, he’d see Scully’s desire to the leave the X-Files as a personal affront against him. Maybe it would be, in part. Mulder would obviously take her abandonment of the X-Files as yet another betrayal. And maybe it would be. But she couldn’t really go on with the way things were. The events of the past week proved that without a doubt. And instead of meeting the problem head-on and talking about it, like two normal adults in a relationship, she sat there suffering Mulder’s angry stoniness in silence. She never would’ve done that before. When had she ever cowered from calling Mulder onto the carpet for his behavior? When had she refrained from confronting him on his actions, refrained from defending herself? She knew she was to blame, and she knew she deserved some of Mulder's anger, but she also knew she didn't deserve his resultant treatment of her. So why didn't she speak up and say so?

Scully felt like she’d been slowly losing herself over her fear of losing Mulder. Instead of taking charge of her life, taking control of her destiny, her future, going after the life she really wanted, she buried her feelings even deeper. But what was the life she really wanted? She didn’t know. She just felt her frustration and discontent building up, but was unable to voice these feelings to Mulder. Their co-dependency was clearly showing signs of becoming toxic, if the past week’s claustrophobic life in the basement was any indication. But it didn’t matter whether they were getting along or fighting, or whether their relationship was sexual or platonic, the years spent in the X-Files had worn them down into two damaged individuals.

She stared at the computer screen, re-reading that small paragraph over again. Scully moved the mouse over to click ‘Print,’ but she hesitated. What would she do if she actually did it? If she printed it out, signed it, and handed it in to Skinner? What then? Could she leave the X-Files and keep Mulder? Or would he cast her out of his life, feeling betrayed? Would that be for the best? To end the co-dependency? To have a clean break? A fresh start? What would she even do without him? She couldn’t bear to live without Mulder, but living with him in the current state of things would be insufferable.

Scully wanted to put the darkness behind her. She had grown sick and tired of the monsters, human and supernatural. Was what she did even worthwhile anymore? Was she even truly accomplishing anything on the X-Files? For years she’d believed the work was important, it gave her a sense of accomplishment, and she believed in the rightness of what she did. Now she wasn’t so sure. She’d grown tired of the turmoil, and staring into the face of unimaginable horrors. She wanted some peace. She wanted a peaceful life with Mulder, but it didn’t seem like that was ever going to happen. She didn’t think that was the life he even wanted. If this IVF cycle was successful, there was a chance Mulder would face the reality of the situation and willingly leave the X-Files behind. But what if it wasn’t? Would she be forced to give him an ultimatum? Wouldn’t he just resent her for it?

Suddenly her telephone rang. Scully hesitated. It could be Mulder, but she wasn’t sure whether or not she wanted to talk to him. But she glanced at the time. It was just past 8:00 am. He might not even be awake yet. It was Saturday, after all. She reached for the cordless phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dana.”

She felt a sense of relief, but also disappointment that it wasn’t Mulder after all. “Hi, Charlie.”

“Are you busy this weekend?” her brother asked.

“Um… no. I’m not doing anything.”

“Would you mind coming up to Baltimore for the weekend and watching the kids? I’ve managed to convince Jennifer to take a weekend away. She’s been hesitant about leaving the baby, but it’s been two months and Jennifer could really use a break. And we could really use some alone time. Anyways, she agreed to go away but only if you were available to be with the kids. You gotta do this for me, Dana. I’m desperate.”

Scully chuckled. “Okay, I can do it.”

“Oh, my God, thank you,” Charlie replied with a sigh of relief. “I owe you one. Actually, it’ll only be Jack and the baby. Ben will be staying over at a friend’s house.”

Scully smiled. She hadn’t seen Jack since right after the new baby was born, when she'd gotten back from Tennessee. “That’s fine. What time would you like me to be there?”

“As soon as you can,” Charlie replied quickly.

She chuckled again. “I’ll start packing a bag right now. I should be there in about an hour and a half, depending on traffic.”

“You’re a lifesaver!” said Charlie. “Okay, see you soon.”

Scully hung up the phone, took one more brief look at the letter on the computer screen, before closing down Microsoft Word and the computer, and heading into her bedroom to pack her overnight bag.

*****

It was late on Saturday afternoon, approaching the early evening, and Mulder was pacing his apartment, no longer able to ignore the growing sense of panic and dread that had settled in his stomach. He needed to talk to Scully. He needed to see her. But what would he even say? He could apologize again, but how much weight would it carry? The truth is, he and Scully don’t talk about things.

They discussed politics, religion, and philosophy. Mulder discussed his theories on the supernatural and Scully debated these theories with her scientific counterpoints. They talked about X-Files cases, FBI happenings, kidnappings and murders highlighted on the evening news. They talked about art, movies, music, and literature. On Sundays when Scully returned home from church and brunch with her mother, she and Mulder would read each other the editorial pages of the _Washington Post_ and _The New York Times_ , and debated them in turn.

They rarely talked about the past, about their doubts and regrets in life. Mulder rarely talked about Samantha, starlight, his parents. Scully rarely talked about her cancer, Melissa, her father. They rarely talked about the past events of the X-Files, at least not the cases that were particularly horrifying, the cases that threatened to rip them from each other, the cases which resulted in the deaths of friends or loved ones. On the rare occasions when they did discuss these things, the conversations tended to be awkward and uncomfortable, or very brief.

They had never talked about which side of the bed they wanted, they had each just assumed the correct position. They had never talked about who would shower first in the morning, but Mulder quickly learned that if he didn’t shower first the chances were high he’d be stuck with lukewarm water. They never talked about the fact that although Scully liked to curl up next to him for a few minutes when she first climbed into bed, it wasn’t long before she was as far away from him as she could get by the time she fell asleep. They also never talked about how by the time the sun came up, she was right back over where she started, pressed up against him. They never talked about drooling on the pillows, getting kicked in the middle of the night, snoring, or other intimate details that no one else on earth could ever possibly know about.

They never talked about everything that had happened between them over the years, and they never talked about what was currently going on between them, whatever that might be at any given time. They never talked about what they wanted, hoped for, dreamed of. They never talked about their feelings, especially their feelings for each other.

They never talked. They acted instead.

Mulder walked around his apartment, grabbing his keys, gun holster, FBI badge, and his black leather jacket, before heading out to his car and driving northeast to Baltimore. About an hour later, he was driving down Ellerslie Avenue in Baltimore’s Waverly neighborhood and then pulled into the driveway of the two-story brick row house belonging to Charlie and Jennifer Scully, parking his car behind his partner’s sedan.

Upon getting out of the car, he walked up to the white front door and knocked. After about 30 seconds, the door opened and Mulder found himself staring at a 10 year old boy with dark red hair, bright blue eyes, and freckles on his nose, wearing dark jeans and a black and white striped shirt.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

“I, uh, came to see your aunt,” replied Mulder. “Is she here?”

“Yeah, she’s here. Come in.” Jack stepped aside to let Mulder walk over the threshold. “Aunt Dana!”

Mulder could hear footsteps the floor above and then Scully’s voice calling down the stairs. “What is it, Jack?”

“Mulder’s here!” Jack answered, before turning back to Mulder. “She made pizza for dinner. There’s some leftovers in the kitchen if you want some. We’re gonna watch _Star Wars_ in a little bit. You wanna stay and watch the movie?”

He blinked at the kid, not knowing how to respond. “Well, uh, if your aunt wants me to.”

Mulder thought the fact that Scully hadn’t come down the stairs right away to greet him rather portentous. He imagined her fury at him showing up here, and immediately regretted driving up to Baltimore and showing up at her brother’s house unannounced.

He looked down Scully’s nephew staring up at him. “Are your parents around?”

Jack shook his head. “Nope. They went to stay in a hotel. I asked Dad what they were gonna do in the hotel and he said they were gonna play board games. But I told him that they could play board games here. And then Dad said he wanted Mom all to himself and that he was sick of sharing her with us. But I think he was just kidding.”

Mulder felt the serious tone of voice the kid used was pretty amusing. “All right, then. So... is your aunt babysitting?”

“Yep,” Jack nodded. “She’s upstairs with my baby sister. You wanna see her? She’s really small.”

“Your aunt or the baby?” Mulder quipped dryly.

Jack gave him a confused expression. “Was that a joke?”

Mulder nodded, sighing. “Um, yes, yes it was.”

“Oh, okay,” Jack replied, shrugging.

“Obviously it was a good one,” Mulder retorted.

Jack shook his head, rolling his eyes. Mulder chuckled. Scully then walked down the stairs and stared at him.

“What are you doing here, Mulder?” she asked, her tone full of surprise and concern.

“I already asked him that,” said Jack.

Mulder watched Scully look at her nephew, arching her eyebrow, and then the boy sighed and left the living room. Mulder felt the urge to laugh, but suppressed it as soon as Scully’s eyebrow was turned on him.

“Mulder.”

She was looking at him, the initial surprise over his presence evaporating, and he saw the walls come up, shutting him out. His sense of dread and panic returned, and the fearful, ominous feeling he had when he’d woken up that morning once again flooded his stomach.

“I needed to see you, Scully. I didn’t want to wait until Monday. We… we need to talk.”

She sighed. “Mulder, I really don’t think this is the place. I… I just, I don’t know…”

“Are you leaving me?” Mulder blurted out the question, interrupting her, before he could stop and think about what he was saying, vocalizing his deepest fear, the one he’d been desperately trying not to think about.

He watched her eyes widen slightly, and she swallowed. “Mulder…”

At that moment the loud, piercing cries of an infant could be heard from upstairs. Scully sighed again, and turned back towards the staircase.

“Scully.” He needed an answer.

“Mulder, we can talk later,” she said as she started to walk upstairs. “I’ll be down after I give Hannah a bath and put her to sleep.”

He stared after Scully’s departing back until she’d completely ascended the stairs, not feeling reassured over the expression on her face when he’d asked her the question. She looked guilty, as if caught in the act of something she knew was wrong. Mulder tried not to read too much into it, and made his way into the kitchen where he found Jack standing over the stove.

“Are you sure you should be doing that?” Mulder asked, watching the kid heat up a baby bottle inside a saucepan of water.

“Yeah. Why not? My sister has to have bottle after her bath.”

Mulder continued to stare at him. “Are you allowed to use the stove by yourself?”

“I’m not by myself,” replied Jack matter-of-factly. “You’re here.”

Mulder chuckled, shaking his head, and then sat down at the kitchen table to watch Scully’s nephew warm up a bottle of milk for his baby sister.

*****

Scully picked up her two month old niece from her crib, and rocked her until she was soothed and her cries had dissipated. She didn’t know what to think about Mulder showing up in Baltimore. She wanted to feel angry at the audacity but she couldn’t muster up enough anger at the moment, which was disconcerting. She could always draw strength and determination from her anger, but it was failing her. Didn’t leaving that note for Mulder on her dining table sort of show that in some small way she wanted him to contact her?

She could see the fear in his eyes as Mulder stood downstairs, the panic in his expression before he’d asked that question. Scully suddenly remembered that night after his mother committed suicide, Mulder sobbing into her shoulder and begging her to never leave him. She couldn’t make that promise then. She certainly didn’t think she could make it now.

Her stomach churned in knots as she laid the baby down in her crib, and headed into the bathroom to start running a warm bath. Once there were a couple inches in the tub, Scully turned the faucet off and gathered the baby body wash, a soft washcloth, and a towel. As Scully was lifting Hannah out of the crib to bring her to the bathroom, Jack walked into the room.

“Here’s her bottle,” he said, placing it on top of the dresser. “It’s still hot, so it’ll take a little while to cool down.”

Scully smiled. “Well, aren’t you the little helper?”

“Mom lets me do it all the time now,” Jack said casually. “It’s one of my jobs. Dad said I’m supposed to help out around here.”

She suppressed a grin, nodding her head. “Are you going to start watching your movie?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I might wanna do something different. Um, is Mulder gonna stay for a while?”

Scully paused, and chewed her bottom lip. “Did he tell you to ask me that?”

“No,” answered Jack. “I’m just wondering.”

“Hmm. I… I don’t know. But I’ll be downstairs as soon as I’m done up here.”

Jack nodded. “Okay.”

He then turned and left the nursery, and Scully listened to his footsteps descending the stairs as she made her way into the bathroom. Upon removing Hannah’s baby clothes and diaper, Scully gently lowered her into the bathtub, supporting Hannah’s head and neck with her left arm. She then took a washcloth, dampened it with the warm bath water, and gently cleaned the baby’s face, outside and behind her ears. Scully then grabbed the baby body wash with her right hand and squeezed a drop into the washcloth, lathered, and then gently washed the rest of Hannah’s body.

Once the baby was clean, Scully lifted her out of the tub, grabbing the towel from the tub’s edge, and wrapped her in it. Scully carried her back to the nursery and laid Hannah on the changing table, patting her completely dry. She then grabbed the baby lotion, a clean diaper, and a lavender onesie from the dresser in the nursery, before returning to the changing table. Once the baby was dressed, Scully picked her up and headed over to the other side of the room to grab the warm bottle of milk. She then sat down in the white rocking chair in the corner of the room, and started feeding her niece.

Scully was trying not to think about Mulder, but that was proving impossible. A decision needed to be made, but she wasn’t sure whether she was ready to make it. And maybe it was best not to make any decisions until after they learned of the IVF results. She’d be going in on Friday to take the pregnancy test at Dr. Parenti’s office. But she knew by the look on Mulder’s face downstairs that he probably couldn’t wait until Friday for a decision. And could they really endure another silent and tense week in the basement until then?

Maybe the fact that Mulder had driven up here was a positive sign, but she didn’t want to get her hopes up. Maybe if they did actually sit and talk about things, no matter how uncomfortable, they could reach some sort of an understanding between them. But the situation felt hopeless. She wanted out of the X-Files, and he seemed more determined than ever to work them. Mulder appeared to be completely unaware of how she felt, but whose fault was that exactly? She never made her feelings known, and neither did he.

Why did she want out of the X-Files? Hadn’t Mulder tried to push her out just six months ago? And didn’t she bristle at that? Wasn’t she determined that Mulder was not about to get rid of her? Didn’t she recoil from the idea of leaving Mulder and the X-Files behind to start a life doing something else, even with someone else? Yes, she did. The thought of giving up the X-Files and leaving Mulder for a quiet life in the suburbs, the life he said she deserved, filled her with horror.

But that was before. Before she knew what it was like to fall asleep next to Mulder at night, and wake up next to him in the morning. Before she knew what it felt to have his arms wrapped tightly around her, what it felt like to be kissed passionately by him. Before she knew what it was like to feel the weight of him on top of her, to look into his eyes gazing down at her with love and devotion as the ground beneath them shook. She now had a glimpse of what her life could be, for good or bad.

Losing Mulder now was too terrible a prospect to think about, yet she did think about it and the fear of his death debilitated her more than ever. The work was too dangerous, and she didn’t think she could endure losing Mulder to his work, to the monsters and dark organizations they fought against. She couldn’t survive how wrongful, unjust, and cruel it would be for Mulder’s life to come to an early, abrupt end. How could that be his fate? Their fate?

Yet, Scully also had a glimpse of what her life could be if she no longer had these fears. She imagined lazy Sundays with Mulder stretched out on the couch, reading the Sunday paper or dozing. She pictured coming home from a steady job that didn’t require last-minute plane travel all over the country, nor did it require her to continually put her life at risk. Practicing medicine sounded more appealing than ever. She pictured living in a peaceful home with Mulder, coming home to him every day.

That’s usually where the fantasy ended and Scully’s worries picked up again. What the hell would Mulder do with himself without the X-Files and the FBI? Would she just be coming home to an increasingly miserable man, missing a purpose in life, the passion that had once driven him so powerfully now lost? How could she do that to him? She couldn’t. Leaving the X-Files behind had to be a decision that Mulder made himself, one that he was at peace with, and not a decision forced upon him by her.

But what if he never made that decision? What if Mulder never wanted to leave the X-Files behind? He never wanted to stop searching, discovering, fighting? Could she live like that? What purpose would her life have? Just following him around chasing after Big Foot or the Loch Ness Monster or some UFO? Is that all she had to look forward to in life?

As Scully sat with her niece in the rocking chair, moving back and forth while the baby slept, she realized she was putting off going downstairs to Mulder and an uncomfortable conversation. She couldn’t picture a scenario where both of them were happy, at the same time, together. Any decision made had the potential to cause one or both of them a considerable amount of misery. What was she going to do? Scully wished she had the answer.

She decided she couldn’t procrastinate any longer, and Scully got up from the rocking chair to lay Hannah down to sleep in her crib, and turned on the baby monitor. She then quietly walked down the carpeted stairs, expecting to see Jack in the living room but quickly realized that she hadn’t heard any television sounds drifting upstairs, and so wasn’t at all surprised to see the living room devoid of human life. She thought she could hear voices coming from the dining room and walked across the beige living room carpet until the voices grew louder, and stood against the wall of the hallway the led into the dining room to listen.

“Okay, this blue piece has to connect with this gray one at the top to form the hatch,” said Jack.

“All right,” replied Mulder, and Scully could hear the sound of plastic pieces snapping together.

“How many times have you watched _Star Wars_?” Jack asked.

“Um, I don’t know. Quite a few. How many times have you seen it?”

“Hundreds,” replied Jack.

Mulder chuckled. Scully smiled. Her nephew had been obsessed with _Star Wars_ lately and had made her watch two of the films with him earlier that day. He must’ve pulled out his Legos, by the sound of it.

“Mulder, have you ever seen a real alien?” asked Jack.

Scully listened to the pregnant pause, wondering how he would respond.

“Yes, I have,” Mulder replied truthfully.

“When was the last time you saw one?”

“Um…,” Mulder said, thinking. “Almost two years ago.”

“Were you scared?” Jack asked.

“I was terrified,” answered Mulder.

“What did they look like?”

“Well, um,” Mulder started to reply. “They had long arms and sharp claws, large eyes, flat noses and slits for nostrils, small mouths, and they were covered in goo. But I didn’t stick around to get a better look. I was trying to get the hell outta there.”

“Eww,” Jack responded. “Did the aliens try to kill you?”

Scully listened as another silent pause filled the dining room, growing uneasy at the conversation. She worried that the things Mulder could tell her nephew were far too scary for him.

Mulder sighed. “Yes.”

“How’d you get away?” asked Jack incredulously.

“I climbed out of the spaceship really fast,” Mulder answered.

“You were inside a spaceship?!” Jack replied, his tone full of awe and amazement. “Was my Aunt Dana there, too?”

Mulder sighed again. “Yes. I had to get her out of there.”

“So you saved her from the aliens?”

“Yes,” replied Mulder.

Scully smiled to herself behind the wall.

“Wow. Did she kiss you afterwards?”

Another silent pause. Scully wondered where that question came from.

“No,” Mulder said, chuckling. “Why would she?”

“I don’t know,” Jack replied. “But in movies the guy always saves the girl and then she kisses him and stuff."

Mulder chuckled. "Yeah, I suppose that does happen in movies. But your aunt has saved my life a lot, too. Probably more times than than I've saved hers."

"Wow, really? Are you going to marry Aunt Dana?”

Scully’s eyes widened. What in the world?

“I doubt it,” replied Mulder. “We just work together.”

Scully closed her eyes, and shook her head. She knew it was ridiculous to expect Mulder to explain their relationship to her 10 year old nephew, but the way he’d said ‘We just work together’ rankled.

“Oh. Do you think the aliens will make you go crazy and have a nervous breakdown?”

Scully’s face contorted in bewilderment. Mulder started laughing. “What?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “I heard you were going to have a nervous breakdown and then you’ll have to go to the funny farm.”

“Who said that?” Mulder asked, still laughing.

“Uncle Bill.”

Scully shook her head, grinning.

“Oh, okay. That explains it.” Mulder was still chuckling.

“Mulder. So the aliens are bad aliens, right? And if they come back, they’re gonna attack people, right?”

Scully wasn’t sure how she wanted him to answer. She didn’t want him to scare her nephew.

Mulder sighed. “Yes, I believe they will.”

“So, are you gonna fight them?” asked Jack, his voice showing no sign of fear.

“I… I don’t know,” Mulder replied. “Somebody will have to.”

“Do you wanna spend the night?” Jack asked. “You can have the bottom bunk. That’s where Ben sleeps but he’s staying at Joey Scheiner’s house.”

Scully listened to another long pause.

“Um… I’m not sure your aunt will like that.”

“Nah, she won’t mind,” replied Jack. “I’ll ask her.”

She could then hear the sound of a chair pushing against the hardwood floor and small feet walking quickly out of the room until her nephew came around the corner and stopped abruptly right in front of her.

“Oh! Aunt Dana, can Mulder spend the night?”

Scully sighed. “I should probably have a talk with him first.”

“Is he in trouble?” Jack asked.

She laughed. “No, why?”

“Because Mom always needs to have a talk with Dad when he’s in trouble.”

Scully laughed again. “No one is in trouble. Why don’t you go put on a movie while I talk to Mulder? Just don’t turn the volume up too loud.”

“Okay,” replied Jack, and he walked away into the living room.

She then turned the corner in the hallway and walked into the dining room, to see Mulder sitting there staring at her.

“Are you sure no one’s in trouble, Scully?”

She found herself suppressing a grin. “Mulder…”

“No, let me talk first,” he said. “Please.”

Scully nodded and walked over to sit down next to him at the dining table.

Mulder sighed. “I know I once told you that no matter what, I was always your partner and your friend. But I didn’t act like either for the past week, and I’m sorry. I had no right to treat you the way I did. I know I can be a real self-centered, self-destructive son of a bitch. You’ve never done anything to let me down, and I fail you all the time.”

She shook her head sadly.

He sighed again. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I understand why you needed to go with the Smoking Man. I understand that it would’ve been completely against your nature to not go with him. And I hope you can at least understand my reaction a little, even if you can’t forgive it. He’s taken everything from me, Scully. My whole family is dead now. You’re the only one I have left, and you could so easily be taken from me. But that’s not an excuse. I should never have acted like such an asshole. The truth is…”

Mulder sighed, and looked away from her. “The truth is… I need you too much. And I know you don’t need me, not really. You can take care of yourself, and make your own decisions. I never should’ve said that you betrayed me, betrayed my trust. You didn’t, Scully. You’ve never done anything to make me feel I couldn’t trust you. But I’ve betrayed your trust, so many times over the years. I don’t know why you’ve stuck around for this long.”

“That’s not true,” Scully whispered.

He looked over at her. “What isn’t?”

“I do need you,” she said.

“Really?” Mulder sighed. “I know what you want, Scully. You want the same thing I want.”

Scully felt her stomach tighten even more. Was this it? Was she finally going to get the promise she’d been waiting for? For a life beyond the X-Files?

“What do I want?” she whispered.

“The truth,” he replied.

She snorted, shaking her head. That elusive thing, ‘the truth,’ was always out there somewhere for Mulder to find. What about the truths right here, lying between them, that they were unable to speak of?

“You’re entitled to answers, Scully,” Mulder explained. “Just as much as I am. You’ve watched me find my answers, to the government’s secrets, to my sister’s abduction. Do you think I have an exclusive right to the truth? You’re still living with that chip in your neck. I can’t possibly know what that’s like, but I can try to understand. You were willing to take risks to learn the truth. You were willing to open yourself up to extreme possibilities, like I’ve been trying to get you to do all along. I had not right to hold that against you.”

“When he offered me the answers to the science behind the chip’s ability to cure cancer, I thought it was an offer I couldn’t refuse,” Scully said. “At the time it seemed worth the risk, and I didn’t believe he’d want to harm me. It was never my intention to make you worry, or feel afraid for my life. I’ve tried to make peace with what happened to me, to make peace with the fact that I’ll probably never really know what happened during my abduction. I’ve been living with this thing in my neck for almost three years now. I try not to think about it, but sometimes it scares me. Especially if I think about what happened at Ruskin Dam in Pennsylvania.”

He sighed. “You’re entitled to the answers about that chip, about your abduction, your cancer and infertility. You’re entitled to everything, Scully.”

As she wondered what else Mulder thought she was entitled to, Scully felt the tight knot in her stomach loosen for the first time since driving away from the Smoking Man outside the McPecks’ home in Goochland, Virginia.

Mulder cleared his throat. “Cancer Man came to see me at my apartment. On Thursday night.”

Scully’s eyes widened. “What happened?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. We did some catching up. I threatened to kill him. He threw around some cryptic advice, and then I let him walk away.”

“Advice?” Scully asked. “He played psychotherapist with me, too.”

“He should go on the Oprah show,” Mulder quipped.

Scully laughed.

His expression suddenly turned serious. “Were the things he said to you true? Do you think I abuse your loyalties?”

She sighed. She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about all that. “Of course you don’t abuse my loyalty, Mulder.”

“I hope you don’t think I take you for granted, Scully. I know I may have done that before, but I can’t ever do that again. There’s… too much at risk now. If you were to leave me...”

Scully looked at him, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes worried, but she found she still couldn't make that promise, the promise he needed to hear.

He turned his head and gazed at her, reaching out to hold her hand in his, threading their fingers. “I am sorry, Scully.”

“I know, Mulder,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “I am, too.”

Not long after Jack came walking quickly around the corner from the hallway and into the dining room, and saw their entwined hands on the table. “So can he spend the night?” Jack asked Scully expectantly.

Mulder turned to look at her, and she gave him a half smile. She was glad the anger seemed to be gone now, but she still felt confused and hopeless over this thing between them with its problems that seemingly had no real solution.

He sensed that Scully could use some space. “Nah, I gotta get going.”

“Awww,” Jack replied, not hiding his disappointment.

“We’ll hang out another time,” Mulder said, smiling.

“Will you tell me all about the aliens?” asked Jack.

Mulder smiled. “Sure.”

Scully shook her head. _Boys._ She then walked Mulder to the front door, and stepped out onto the porch with him.

“So… I’ll see you on Monday morning?” Mulder asked.

She gave him a small smile, nodding.

While Mulder had felt relieved after their conversation in the kitchen, he still could feel a tiny knot of dread in the pit of his stomach. He stepped towards her, bringing his hands up to gently hold her face, and gazed down at her.

“You know how much you mean to me, right?” he whispered.

She sighed, and smiled up at him. “Of course, Mulder.”

He leaned down and kissed her, light and slow and lingering. Emotion swelled within her, intense and silent. She uncrossed her arms, and wrapped them around his waist, holding him to her.

Mulder broke their kiss, but kept his lips lightly brushing against hers. “I really wish we could have some hot make up sex right now,” he whispered.

She snorted. “No sex until the pregnancy test.”

He nodded, and kissed her again. Mulder then walked away off the porch and headed towards his car. Scully watched him drive away, wishing that all it took was some kissing and a bed to solve the problems that lay between them.

*****

As it turned out, on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, Scully and Mulder didn’t see each other at work at all. Scully ended up being requested by Quantico to fill in a last minute vacancy and since Mulder hadn’t laid his hands on a new case, she ended up teaching forensic lectures to new agents in training attending the FBI Academy as well as taking over some office duties in the Laboratory Division. But throughout the day during her time spent away from their basement office at FBI headquarters, Scully would return to her temporary office to find AOL Instant Messenger often blinking with a new message from Mulder.

On Wednesday, March 29th, Scully returned to her office after her morning lecture and sat at her desk to eat her salad and drink her Gatorade. Unsurprisingly, there was a message waiting from Mulder.

[Hey, Scully. What are you wearing?]

She sighed.

[I take it you haven’t found a case yet.]

The ding on his office computer brought a grin to Mulder’s face, but he sighed when he read Scully’s reply.

[No, unfortunately. Anyways, I’m bored. Let’s play at questions.]

Scully had no idea what that was, but she didn’t like the sound of it.

[What does that mean?]

Mulder grinned.

[Didn’t you ever see the Tom Stoppard play _Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead_?]

Scully smiled.

[No. But I saw the movie.]

Mulder snorted.

[Right, I forgot. Gary Oldman. Anyways, Scully, the game is to only ask each other questions. No repeats and no non sequiturs.]

Scully paused, staring at Mulder’s response. She felt anxiety fill her stomach. She didn’t think this game was a good idea. It could be dangerous, actually.

[Could we hold off on that game, Mulder? I’ve got a lot of work I need to do here, and I shouldn’t be distracted. Maybe another time.]

He sighed.

[Okay, Scully. Sure.]

She was thankful that her and Mulder had sort of patched things up, that he’d finally understood her actions involving the Smoking Man. Scully knew that Mulder was the type to hold onto a grudge, allowing it to silently eat away at him until he exploded in rage, and then he’d probably still hold onto it for the rest of his life. She was thankful that he apologized and expressed his reasons for acting the way he did. And now things could just go back to normal. But they weren’t going back to normal anytime soon, and Scully knew it. She thought that Mulder might know it too. A change was needed, and hopefully a change for the better.

In the late afternoon on Wednesday, as Scully sat in her temporary office at one of Quantico’s labs, she suddenly felt an uncomfortable wetness growing at her center. She rushed to the closest women’s room. She found the single-stall bathroom out in the hallway, not far from the lab. After locking the door behind her, she lifted her navy blue pencil skirt and sat down, checking her underwear. Blood. She was spotting. Scully was still two days away from taking the pregnancy test at Dr. Parenti’s office. But she had the results right in front of her, no test was needed. Who the hell bleeds through three daily doses of progesterone? Just her and her fucked up reproductive system. Scully felt her throat close and tears well up in her eyes.

Time splintered through a kaleidoscope. Memories of the past six months were like shards of colored glass, dancing in front of her. Empty syringes and progesterone vials lying in the small biohazard container in her bathroom, an itemized pharmacy receipt, a Chicago hotel suite, standing in a locked bathroom with Mulder while he ejaculated into a cup, a hot pink vibrator, fitting her bed with clean sheets, the small bruises on her belly from the injections, small bruises almost everywhere else from Mulder’s teeth, the smell of Mulder’s aftershave, the feel of Mulder’s abrasive stubble on her sensitive skin, Thanksgiving dinner at her mother’s house, lighting a candle at St. Joseph’s Cathedral in San Diego, Donnie Pfaster locking her in a closet, Mulder’s arm swollen with snake venom, $15,000 in cash flushing down the toilet, seven embryos of Mulder’s children lost, the sound of the rain outside Mulder’s bedroom.

Scully sobbed while sitting on the toilet in the locked bathroom. She knew it was her, but the sounds of her cries and gasping breaths seemed as though they were coming from somewhere else. It couldn’t be her. That sound of desperate, horrible crying had to be coming from someone else. But no, it was her. She had no idea how long she stayed in the bathroom, whether it was just a few minutes or an hour, but eventually she cleaned herself up as best she could and went back to her office.

At 5:00 pm, Scully packed up her things and drove home to Georgetown. She’d had another IM message from Mulder when she’d returned to the office from the bathroom, asking her if she’d like to have dinner, but she politely turned down his invitation and then shut down her laptop. She arrived back home at her apartment just before 6:00 pm, and called Dr. Parenti’s office. He had gone home for the day, and so Scully left him a message on his voicemail telling him that her period had started and there was no need for her to come in for a pregnancy test.

Scully spent the rest of the evening debating about how and when to tell Mulder. The first IVF cycle, he’d been anxiously awaiting at her apartment. The second, he’d gone to College Park with her to learn her results. And now she sat alone in her living room, in her long bathrobe in front of a fire, drinking a cup of chamomile tea, feeling numb to the despair. Should she wait until she saw Mulder in the morning to tell him in person? Or would he be upset that she’d known since Wednesday afternoon and had waited until the next day to tell him?

As the clock struck 8:00 pm, Scully grabbed her cordless phone and dialed Mulder’s home number. There was no answer, and she got the answering machine. After setting the phone down, she turned on her computer and opened that Word document, the letter she'd written addressed to Skinner. Her hand shook as she moved her mouse over to click 'Print,' but she hesitated once again, staring at the screen. After a while she headed into the bathroom and drew a hot bath. She sat in the tub until the water cooled to an uncomfortable state and then she got out, before pulling on her silk pajamas and bathrobe and climbing into her empty bed.

*****

Mulder really needed to get his hands on a case, as soon as possible, so that he and Scully could get back to their normal routine, their normal interaction. On Monday and Tuesday, as Scully was driving home from Quantico, she’d agreed to meet Mulder for dinner in Alexandria and they would spend an hour or two together at one of their favorite restaurants. But then Scully would turn down his invitation to stay at his place, and head home to her apartment where she said she’d be able to sleep better. Mulder knew she needed extra rest during the IVF process, so he didn’t complain and he tried not to read too much into it. But it left him with a nagging sense of dread.

Despite the understanding they seemed to reach over the weekend, the apologies made and forgiveness given, there was underlying tension there. It was in their tone of voice when they spoke to each other, it was in their body language. Something wasn’t right. Mulder felt it was eerily similar to the situation between them a year ago, that overwhelming feeling he’d had for a long time that neither of them were happy, but they weren’t saying anything about it. Mulder quickly returned to his avid search for any potential X-file they could work on, but by the end of the day on Wednesday he still hadn’t found anything remotely interesting or X-Files related.

Mulder sighed when he received Scully’s refusal to go out to dinner, and he remained at the office later than usual as he was in no hurry to head home and spend the night at his apartment alone. He hated not having Scully around. The Instant Messenger came in handy while she was at Quantico and they bantered back and forth like usual, but Scully would quickly end the conversation if it started to steer into more personal territory. He wished she would tell him what was wrong. So he could fix whatever the problem was. Or was it just the hormone treatment and the IVF process? He knew it could cause depression, among other unwanted side effects.

At 8:00 pm, Mulder finally left the office after his unsuccessful attempts at finding a case to keep him and Scully busy, and headed to the Thai restaurant about four blocks from his apartment in Alexandria. He ate a small meal in comfortable silence, quietly watching the other patrons going about their lives. It was past 9:00 when he arrived back home, and he walked into his bedroom, changing out of his charcoal suit into sweats and sneakers. Mulder then grabbed his basketball, and headed out to his local court to shoot some hoops. If there was anything that could clear his head, it was basketball.

It was almost 11:00 pm when Mulder returned home to his apartment. He took a quick shower and changed into a pair of gray flannel pajama bottoms and pulled on a black t-shirt. He then walked out to his living room, settling on the couch and turning on the television to watch the local news. As he looked over at his desk, he saw the flashing red light of his answering machine. Mulder walked over to the desk, and hit the play button. The automated voice told him the message had been left at 8:01 pm.

“Hi, Mulder. It’s me. Sorry I didn’t catch you at home. I guess you must be out, or still at the office. I was just calling to let you know that the, uh, the IVF didn’t take, so we don’t have to head up to College Park on Friday after work now. Anyways, I’ll see you in the morning.”

He stared at the machine, and then played the message again. How could she have left something like that on his answering machine? Why not try his cell phone, or the office phone? Or told him in person? And her voice sounded so... disinterested, empty, numb.

Mulder had tried his hardest over the past few weeks not to think about the prospects of this cycle, failure or success, and tried to bury his anxious concerns as well as his blossoming hopes. But suddenly the emotions that he had suppressed through this entire IVF process broke through his defenses like a tidal wave. He collapsed back on his couch, crestfallen and heartbroken over the disappointment, angry at his unanswered prayers for a miracle, frustrated over what was happening between him and Scully. Mulder buried his face in his hands, and cried.


	67. "Every problem has a solution."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder feels uneasy. Agent Cole invites him and Scully in on a potential X-Files case. Mulder quickly finds something else for them to work on, in England, but Scully isn't so easily persuaded. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of the episode "all things" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Gillian Anderson, the goddess, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> Here's your Christmas present, everyone! ; )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Journey – “Girl Can’t Help It”
> 
> If he could hold her  
> So close in his arms... again  
> If she could show him  
> The letter her heart forgot to send... why  
> They're livin' dreams on their own  
> Ooh, they'll never stop running
> 
> The girl can't help it, she needs more  
> He hasn't found what he's lookin' for  
> They're still standing in the rain  
> He can't help it, and she's just that way
> 
> And when he calls her  
> She tells him that she still cares  
> Under the moonlight  
> He wonders why she can't be there… why  
> Why do they go on alone  
> When they're missin' each other
> 
> The girl can't help it, she needs more  
> He hasn't found what he's lookin' for  
> They're still standing in the rain  
> He can't help it, and she's just that way  
> The girl can't help it, she needs more  
> He hasn't found what he's lookin' for  
> They're still standing in the rain  
> He can't help it, and she's just that way
> 
> Ooh, there's a fire in his eyes for you  
> Don't you know she still cries  
> Ooh, do you know she still cries for you  
> Fire  
> Ooh, there's a fire in his eyes for you  
> For you she cries  
> Ooh, do you know she still cries for you  
> Fire  
> Ooh, there's a fire in his eyes for you  
> Ooh, nothing stands between love and you

On Thursday afternoon, March 30th, at 1:22 pm Mulder and Scully walked into their basement office at FBI headquarters after eating lunch together at a nearby diner. Mulder hung his trench coat on the rack by the door. He then walked over to his desk, removing some files from his briefcase and his reading glasses, setting them on top, and sat down to turn on the computer. He then watched as Scully walked over to the other half of the room on his left, which was divided by the remains of a glass partition that had once been floor-to-ceiling and had formerly held a door in the years before Mulder took over the office, and sat down at the table there. At least she wasn’t sitting behind him anymore.

Scully had been fairly quiet since she’d arrived that morning. He’d asked her how she was doing, and she’d given her typical 'I’m fine' response. On the outside, he thought she appeared to be just that. She was congenial when he spoke to her, showing no signs of anger or resentment towards him. He was thankful for this, and was glad they could move on from what had happened with Cancer Man. But a tension lay between them, unspoken and undetectable to the eyes of others, but keenly felt by him. Mulder knew she didn’t want to talk about the IVF results. But he couldn't help wondering how Scully got the results two days before they were supposed to go Dr. Parenti's together. Did she take a pregnancy test earlier than planned, without telling him she was going to? Mulder wanted to ask her about it, he wanted the details, but he was hesitant. He could only hope that by giving her time to think things through and process her emotions, a conversation would then be possible. Until then, he’d have to wait to broach the subject.

Mulder still hadn’t been able to find a case. There were no leads, nothing pending. He checked internet message boards dedicated to UFO hot spots, he scanned the internet for breaking news stories. He couldn’t find anything that appeared to be remotely X-Files related. Mulder was approaching almost two weeks with nothing to work on, and he was restless. Their last few cases had been fairly interesting but what had he accomplished, exactly? Since the events of last May, with the alien artifact taken from that ship in Africa and everything that had resulted from it, Mulder felt like not much had happened since, in terms of his work. He felt things had been quiet far too long, and his work was almost at a standstill. So he kept looking for that catalyst, a case that would open up more doors into the world of the paranormal, open up more doors to discovery. But it seemed as though nothing was happening with the X-Files, nothing substantial anyways. Even Skinner had called him the day before, asking what he was up to. Mulder needed to find something to work on, as soon as possible.

At 2:47 pm, the office phone rang and Mulder reached over to pick up the receiver.

“Mulder.”

“Hey, Agent Mulder. It’s Sam Cole.”

“Hi, Sam.”

Mulder noticed Scully look up from the table she was sitting at, and he put the call on speaker phone.

“Uh, what can I do for you?” he asked.

“Well, uh, me and Sarah are standing at a crime scene in Prince William Forest Park, just outside Triangle, Virginia,” Sam replied. “And, uh, it’s pretty weird. I was wondering if you and Agent Scully would mind coming down here?”

Mulder and Scully locked eyes. Their eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

“What’s weird about it?” Mulder asked.

Sam cleared his throat. “We’ve got a deceased victim, female, in her late teens or early 20’s. The coroner stated that the girl appears to have drowned, but the body was found a couple miles from the creek and there are no signs the body was moved from elsewhere to this location. Don’t know what she could’ve drowned in. There appears to be signs that some kind of ritual went on here. She was dressed in a black robe, and other robes were found nearby. A video camera, a couple flashlights, some creepy books.”

Scully got up and walked over to the desk, arching her eyebrow at Mulder. “What do you mean by creepy books?” he asked.

“Books about witchcraft,” Sam answered. “I don’t mean fairy tale children’s books. These books are quite graphic. Everyone here is pretty spooked.”

Mulder watched Scully grin at him. “If it’s spooky, I’m your guy,” Mulder deadpanned.

There was a long pause on Sam’s end. “Didn’t you send me an email recently about keeping you informed of anything weird? Are you saying you don’t want to come down here and take a look?”

Scully raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. Mulder nodded. “No, we’re on our way.”

“Thanks, Mulder. Once you get to the park, take Scenic Drive to Taylor Farm Road.”

After hanging up the phone, he and Scully retrieved their coats from the rack and requisitioned an FBI sedan to drive down to Triangle, Virginia. An hour later, they were pulling into the Prince William Forest Park entrance. Not long after that, they arrived at the right place, as it wasn’t that hard to find with all the law enforcement hanging about.

Upon parking their car and displaying their FBI badges, they were admitted to cross the police tape and make their way about a quarter mile from the road to the crime scene which still contained the forensic team as well as Agents Cole and Brewer. After the agents greeted one another and shook hands, Cole and Brewer stayed back and watched Mulder and Scully circle the crime scene. They donned latex gloves and started looking over the evidence left at the scene, the video camera, robes, and the books on witchcraft.

“It definitely has at least some ritualistic elements,” Mulder mused.

“But how did she drown?” Agent Sarah Brewer asked sarcastically. “A magic spell?”

Sam shot her the side-eye.

Mulder grinned and nodded good-humoredly.

“Did you find out the ID on the woman?” Scully asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Sam replied, smiling at her and glancing down at his small notepad, and Agent Brewer pursed her lips at him. “The victim is one Nicole Szczesny, age 18. A senior at Dale City High School. Parents reported her missing at six o’clock this morning. She’d gone out with some friends after school yesterday, but she was at home and in bed by 10:30. Parents went to wake her up for school, and she was gone as well as her car, a two-door black 1997 Honda Civic. There was nothing police could really do, though, as she was 18 and there was no sign that a crime had been committed. She didn’t show up for school, and her friends claimed not to have seen her since nine o’clock last night when they all left the McDonald's in Potomac Mills. A park ranger found her body earlier this afternoon. Coroner put her death at approximately two or three o’clock in the morning.”

Scully nodded, and looked at Mulder. He twitched his mouth, thinking. He then bent over and picked up one of the books, _Magick Book of Witchcraft and Shadows_ , and flipped through the pages.

“The coroner definitely thinks the cause of death is drowning?” Mulder asked.

“Well, that’s his initial theory,” Agent Brewer. “And he seemed positive about it. But we won’t know for sure until an autopsy is done.”

Mulder nodded, turning back to the book.

“Are there any signs anyone else was here at the scene other than the girl?” asked Scully.

Sam turned his attention back to her, and smiled. “Well, the other robes. I assume they must’ve been worn by others, or at least that was the intention. We’ve got a bunch of footprints, but they’re scattered all over and the impressions were left by persons running. But it seems as though they were running in all directions, backtracking. It’s like a free-for-all. It’s hard to say how many people may have been here.”

Scully sighed. “Still doesn’t explain how she could drown so far away from a body of water.”

Mulder nodded again.

Sam stared at him. “Come on, Mulder. What are ya thinkin’?”

He looked up from the book. “Are you familiar with ectoplasm?”

Scully knitted her eyebrows. Agent Brewer gave her partner a confused look.

“Uh… it’s been a while since biology class,” Sam replied, chuckling.

Mulder shook his head. “No, I don’t mean that ectoplasm. I mean the ectoplasm associated with psychic phenomena. It’s the physical supernatural substance that exudes from a spirit medium during a trance or séance, which then forms the solid body of a spirit. Ectoplasm is often reported as a white, milky substance, warm to the touch, and becomes clotted, like mucous or… slime. This very likely could be what the girl drowned in.”

Agent Brewer gave Mulder a wide-eyed blank stare.

Sam blinked. “You’re… you’re kidding.”

Scully pursed her lips, and looked at the ground, shaking her head. “Mulder, most claims of ectoplasm have been proven to be based on fraud, from as far back as the Victorian era. What they say is ectoplasm is nothing more than cheesecloth and a rubber glove. Which is why these séances had to be performed in poor lighting conditions, or in near darkness. Ectoplasm is a hoax.”

“Then explain what the girl drowned in lying two miles from a creek or a pond or any lake, Scully,” Mulder said heatedly. “This scene could very well have been a séance, and the footprints running in every direction denotes fear or confusion. It could be that they witnessed Nicole Szczesny drowning.”

“In ectoplasm,” Scully retorted skeptically.

“We’ll know for sure once you do the autopsy, Scully.”

She put her hands on her hips, and stared at him. “Mulder, come on…”

“Don’t you wanna know what the girl drowned in?” he asked incredulously.

Scully sighed. Agents Cole and Brewer locked eyes.

Mulder removed his latex gloves and started walking away from the crime scene, Scully staring after him.

Sam cleared his throat. “Agent Scully.”

She turned and looked at Agent Cole.

“Szczesny’s body was taken to the morgue at Washington National Hospital. But, look, you don’t have to do the autopsy if you don’t want to. I can get another pathologist to do it.”

Scully sighed. “No, that’s okay, Agent Cole. I can do it.”

“All right,” Sam nodded.

Agents Cole, Brewer, and Scully followed Mulder back from the crime scene and out towards the police tape roping off the area.

“Um, Agent Scully?” said Sam as they walked a little ways behind Mulder.

“Yeah?”

“You wouldn’t mind if I viewed the autopsy, would you?” he asked.

Agent Brewer whipped her head around to stare at her partner, her long golden brown hair held back tight in some elastic flying over her shoulder.

Scully turned to glance at Agent Cole. “Um… no, of course not. That wouldn’t be a problem. I’ll let you know what time it gets scheduled for. I’m guessing sometime tomorrow.”

“Okay, great,” Sam replied, trying to stop himself from grinning, ignoring his partner’s side-eye.

Mulder, walking slightly ahead of them, rolled his eyes.

They reached the police tape and Mulder walked over to the lingering members of the forensic team to ask them their initial thoughts upon coming across the crime scene. After a few minutes, he was interrupted.

“Agent Mulder, can I have a word with you?”

He turned around to see Agent Brewer standing there, giving him a hard look. “Uh… sure.”

Mulder stepped away from the forensic team, and walked closer to Agent Brewer.

She paused uncomfortably, as if second-guessing this idea to speak with him, but then glanced over at Sam chatting with Scully, a big smile on his face, and turned back to face Mulder with a determined expression.

“Agent Mulder, I know your private life is none of my business, and so I hope I’m not too out of line here. But… if you are involved with Agent Scully, which I happen to believe you are despite my partner’s opinions on the subject, and you are simply just refusing to tell him so, then you are a real prick for sitting back and letting him make a fool out of himself.”

Mulder stared at her as she walked away, and then glanced over at Sam. He was standing by the police tape, and it looked like he was telling an animated story to Scully, who stood there looking quite amused. Mulder sort of felt sorry for the guy, but it’s not like he can just go around talking about his relationship with Scully with other agents. That wouldn’t be a very smart idea, even if it was just to spare Cole’s feelings.

But as Mulder walked closer to where Cole and Scully were standing, he caught the tail end of their conversation.

“So… you and Agent Mulder?” Sam asked curiously.

Mulder thought he might’ve seen Scully glance at him out of the corner of her eye as he approached.

“No,” she replied assuredly. “We just work together.”

Sam smiled, raising his eyebrows at her.

Mulder walked right past them to the car, getting into the driver’s seat. He felt annoyance flood his stomach, and his drive back to D.C. with Scully was a silent one.

*****

On Friday afternoon, March 31st, just before 3:00 pm, Scully sat in the parking lot of Washington National Hospital and pulled out her cell phone, pressing speed dial 1.

“Mulder.”

“Mulder, it’s me.”

“What’s up? I thought you’re supposed to be doing the autopsy on Nicole Szczesny?”

Scully sighed, feeling irritated. “I’m about to start in a few minutes, Mulder. I was wondering what your plans are this evening.”

“Work,” he replied.

She sighed again. “Mulder, you worked all last night. How many more cases of fraudulent ectoplasm sightings can you possibly read about?”

“They weren’t all proven to be complete frauds, Scully. True, many so-called mediums created fake ectoplasm. But they were only imitating the real thing to make money.”

“Mulder, there’s never been any conclusive evidence that there ever was ‘the real thing’ to begin with. Can’t you take the night off?”

He sighed. “Scully, we’ve had nearly two weeks off. When was the last time we worked a case? You know the Deputy Director would love any reason to shut me down.”

She bitterly thought that might not be such a bad idea. “Fine, Mulder. See you on Monday.”

“Scully, come on,” he said, sighing. “This is important. I’ve just been sitting on my ass for two weeks, doing nothing.”

“There’s nothing wrong with taking it easy once in a while, Mulder. Enjoying some time off isn’t such a bad thing, you know.”

“Well it’s not like the last two weeks were particularly enjoyable, Scully,” Mulder huffed.

She fell silent, flooded by too many confusing emotions: guilt, heartache, annoyance, grief, hopelessness. “I know, Mulder. Listen, I gotta go do this autopsy now. Agent Cole is probably waiting for me. Talk to you later.”

Scully hung up her cell phone without waiting for a reply. She then got out of her car, walking inside Washington National Hospital, and entered the morgue to find that Agent Sam Cole was indeed waiting.

“Hi, Agent Scully,” he greeted her, smiling and reaching out his hand.

“Hi, Agent Cole,” Scully replied, shaking his outstretched hand.

He waved his hand in the air. “Nah, just call me Sam. Everyone does. Even Skinner.”

Scully snorted. “All right. Sam. You ready for this?”

“Yep,” he replied enthusiastically. “But I’ve gotta show you something first.”

She followed Sam into an office in the morgue which held a television and VCR player. He walked over to the TV, turned it on, and then hit the play button on the VCR.

“This is the tape from the video camera found at the crime scene,” Sam explained.

Scully nodded, and they proceeded to watch a homemade video taken out there in the woods of Prince William Forest Park which featured several different girls talking about witches in the forest, and then suddenly running around and screaming. The picture was rather dark, and the identities of the girls couldn’t be placed nor was it possible to ascertain just how many girls were on the tape.

“What do you think they were doing out there in the forest?” Sam asked.

She sighed. “I haven’t a clue. Clearly Szczesny wasn’t alone out there.”

Sam cleared his throat. “And there are no, uh, signs of this ectoplasm stuff on the tape.”

“I didn’t expect there to be,” Scully replied flatly.

He chuckled.

“Well, let’s find out what killed her,” she said, turning towards the office door. “You’re not squeamish, are you?”

Sam blinked. “I… I don’t think so. I’ve never observed an autopsy before, though.”

“First time for everything,” Scully replied, opening the door and walking out.

After changing out of her black pantsuit into scrubs, disinfecting and sterilizing her hands, and snapping on a pair of latex gloves, she got down to the business of autopsying the body. Scully felt rather amused at the almost constant disgusted look planted on Agent Cole’s face for the entire two hours of the autopsy’s duration.

Upon finishing, she returned to the basin to disinfect and sterilize her hands, before changing out of her scrubs and back into her pantsuit. Scully then walked back into the office to find Agent Cole watching the video tape again.

“She did indeed drown,” Scully said to him. “I’ll be sending her lung and stomach contents to the lab, and I’ll ask them to rush the results. Hopefully we’ll know in less than 24 hours.”

Sam nodded, hitting the stop button on the VCR, and then turned to look at her, appearing to gird himself. “Uh, Agent Scully, do you have any, uh, plans tonight? Because I was wondering…”

At that moment, Agent Sarah Brewer, clad in a gray skirt suit, walked determinedly into the office interrupting Sam’s train of thought and spoke to her partner. “Thought you’d still be here. Five of Nicole Szczesny’s friends just came forward. They were all out there Wednesday night recreating their own _Blair Witch Project_. They freaked themselves out, ran out of the woods, and drove home. They hadn’t realized Nicole stayed behind, and thought she’d gone home when the rest of them did. Apparently, a lot of alcohol was involved.”

Sam let out a breathy laugh, and turned an incredulous look on Scully. She closed her eyes, shaking her head and sighing.

Agent Brewer then gave her a sardonic look and her tone dripped with sarcasm. “Do you want to tell Agent Mulder that the girl didn’t drown in fucking ghost slime, or should I?”

Scully placed a carefully arched eyebrow in Agent Brewer’s direction. “I don’t think we should place any definitive cause of drowning on the report until we get the lab results back.”

Agent Brewer sighed in frustration, rolling her eyes. “Sam, we need to go talk to Nicole Szczesny’s parents.”

“Okay, Sarah, let’s go,” he sighed, running his fingertips across his forehead. He then turned to look at Scully. “Uh, thank you, Agent Scully. For letting me observe the autopsy.”

“No need to thank me,” she replied casually, thankful to get out of whatever Agent Cole was about to ask her.

“You have a good weekend,” said Sam, giving her a halfhearted smile before walking out of the office.

Scully somehow doubted she would. She then drove home to Georgetown, stopped at Doug’s Fish Fry to grab the fish dinner special to go, and returned to her apartment to spend another evening alone.

*****

Late on Friday afternoon, after unsuccessfully attempting to get Dr. Parenti on the phone, Mulder decided to drive up to his office in College Park while Scully was busy with the autopsy. He wanted to know how or why she would’ve gotten the IVF results two days prior to his plan to accompany her to Dr. Parenti’s on Friday to take the pregnancy test. Their original appointment was for 5:30 pm, and so Mulder drove towards College Park in the hopes of being able to speak with the doctor.

Upon arriving and telling the receptionist he was here to see Dr. Parenti, Mulder sat down in the waiting room. There were quite a few people sitting in the room, some women who appeared to be on their own and some couples. Several of the women looked visibly pregnant, the others looked rather anxious.

“Mr. Mulder?”

He stood up to see Dr. Parenti had entered the waiting room. “Yeah.”

“You wanna come back to my office?” the doctor asked, smiling.

Mulder nodded, and followed him out of the room and into the back hallway, walking past several exam rooms and offices until they reached the office belonging to Dr. Parenti. He sat in one of the chairs facing the desk as Dr. Parenti sat down, opening a patient file.

“I’m glad you're here, as I haven’t heard back from Dana,” the doctor said.

“Hmm,” Mulder nodded, wondering what exactly that meant.

“Do you know if she’s taken a pregnancy test yet?” Dr. Parenti asked.

Mulder now felt confused. “Uh… well, she said the IVF failed.”

Dr. Parenti sighed. “She told me the same thing on my voicemail. I called her back, left her a message on her answering machine. I explained to her that spotting does not automatically mean it has failed. Bleeding is fairly common after IVF procedures, about 85% of women will experience spotting or bleeding after in vitro, and many women who experience bleeding after IVF go on to have healthy, full-term babies.”

Mulder sighed. He wished Scully would’ve talked to him about this.

“Bleeding is, of course, a sign that the IVF has indeed failed and the normal menstrual period has started,” Dr. Parenti continued. “However, spotting can also be a good sign and it signals that the embryos have attached to the uterine wall. This is called implantation bleeding, and it happens when tiny blood vessels in the uterus burst in order for the embryos to attach. I would like to strongly encourage Dana to have a pregnancy test done, just to be sure.”

“Okay,” Mulder said, not knowing how he’d bring this up in conversation with Scully. He’d had the distinct impression that this was an off-limits topic, at least right now.

Dr. Parenti sighed. “If the pregnancy test comes back negative, I want you to know that I don’t plan on giving up. There are still plenty of options available to you and Dana. We have a wonderful donor egg program as well as thoroughly screened Gestational Carriers. There’s no reason to give up hope. Parenthood is far from unachievable.”

He nodded, and stood up, shaking Dr. Parenti’s hand. “Thanks for seeing me.”

“Not a problem,” the doctor replied.

Mulder then walked back out to the waiting room, and indescribable sinking feeling filling his chest. He sighed, pulling his car keys out of his pocket.

“Bad news, huh?” said one woman kindly, sitting down in the waiting room with her husband. Her long blond hair was held back in a ponytail, and she looked to be in her late 20’s or early 30’s. Mulder recognized her from a couple other times he'd been at Dr. Parenti's with Scully, and remembered her and Scully having some brief conversations while waiting. She also looked to be about six months pregnant now. “Don’t give up. Our daughter is the result of our fifth IVF attempt. Never say never, right?”

He sighed, nodding.

“You know,” spoke up another woman Mulder recognized with shoulder-length black hair, who was older and possibly in her late 30’s. “Usually the best time to conceive naturally is the menstrual cycle immediately following a failed IVF because the levels of progesterone are so high. Your chances could be good.”

“Thanks,” Mulder sighed again, giving them a half smile for their encouragement, but knowing that conceiving naturally was a luxury that he and Scully would never have.

As he drove back to FBI headquarters in D.C., Mulder was once again starting to blame himself for the IVF’s failure. Dr. Parenti had told him months earlier that the more aroused the man is, the healthier and stronger the sperm sample. Mulder knew he hadn’t been all that into it when he’d deposited that last sample a few weeks ago. Maybe it was his fault that the IVF failed.

When Mulder walked through the door to his basement office at just past 6:30 pm, he suppressed his feelings and tried to bury himself in work. But the ectoplasm angle no longer really interested him. But then again, the girl must’ve drowned in something. So ectoplasm was as good a guess as anything else. Mulder sat down at his desk, turned on the computer and logged onto the internet, and began searching for case leads.

At 7:46 pm, his cell phone rang. “Mulder.”

“Hey, Mulder, you gotta get over here,” said Langly.

He sighed. “For what?”

“A new computer program called the Mowing-Devil is predicting incredibly complex crop formations to appear in the next few days. But we don’t wanna go into details right now, this might not be a secure line,” Langly replied.

Mulder looked amused. “Whose? Mine? Or yours?”

“What do you think, G-Man? Just get down here. Pronto.”

After hanging up the phone, Mulder figured his mission to find a worthwhile case wasn’t really going anywhere, and so he shut off the computer, grabbed his briefcase and trench coat, and headed over to the Lone Gunmen’s office.

*****

At 1:00 pm on Saturday, April 1st, Scully walked into their basement office in the Hoover Building and found Mulder setting up the slide projector and listening to music, dressed casually in jeans and a sweater. She couldn’t believe she was here. How does he do it? How does he talk her into these things? She wanted nothing more than a weekend away from this damn office, and yet here she was. Why couldn’t she ever put her foot down and say ‘no’? When her phone rings on a Saturday morning, why couldn’t she ever just say ‘Go to hell, Mulder’ and hang up the phone? Because she really wanted to. Such was the dilemma of her life for the past seven years. After seven years on the X-Files, she still hadn’t found a way to say ‘no’ and it aggravated the shit out of her.

But as Scully stood in line at Downtown Deli around the corner from FBI headquarters, buying lunch, she realized that she just wanted to spend some time with Mulder. And unfortunately, if she wanted this, it would have to be in the damn basement because that’s where he currently was holed up. Why? She had no idea. If he hauled her in here to talk about ectoplasm, she really was going to have to put her foot down.

“I got the lab to rush the results of...,” Scully started to say, noticing Mulder hadn’t paid any attention to her as she walked in, but she wasn’t about to talk over this damn music, and shut it off. “I said, I got the lab to rush the results of the Szczesny autopsy, if you're interested.”

She then pulled out her packed salad and set it on the desk.

“I heard you, Scully.”

“And Szczesny did indeed drown but not as the result of the inhalation of ectoplasm as you so vehemently suggested,” she said.

Mulder looked up from the slide projector. “Well, what else could she possibly have drowned in?”

“Margarita mix. Upchucked with about 40 ounces of Corcovado Gold tequila which, as it turns out she and her friends rapidly consumed in the woods while trying to reenact the _Blair Witch Project_.”

“Well, I think that demands a little deeper investigation, don't you?”

Scully stared at him. _He can’t be serious._ “No, I don't.”

“Well, it doesn't matter,” he replied. “We got bigger fish to fry.”

Scully pulled a sandwich wrap out of the bag as Mulder advanced the slide projector to show three crop circles.

“Have a seat, Scully. Check this out. Is that beautiful or what?”

“Crop circles, Mulder?” She could feel her annoyance grow exponentially as she sat down and opened her salad. Is this what she was wasting her Saturday for? Fucking crop circles? Not once has there ever been any credible evidence that these things aren’t man-made. Sure, there’s been some scientific evidence that crop circles could be created by meteorological phenomena, but even that was questionable. But mostly, they’re just made by pranksters with nothing better to do, like that Bower and Chorley. And in fact, she’s pretty sure Mulder believes crop circles to be hoaxes. She could’ve sworn she heard him tell someone that before. Who was that? He said it to someone… Oh, yeah. Max Fenig. He told Max that crop circles were a hoax. So why the hell was she in this basement right now looking at a slide projector on fucking crop circles? What a giant waste of her time.

“... and I'm not wearing any pants right now.”

 _What did he just say?_ Scully looked up from her salad. “Hmm?”

“You're not listening,” Mulder accused.

“I am,” she replied automatically.

He stared at her.

“I guess I just don't see the point,” Scully explained.

“The point is, is that a computer program has shown us that these are not just random, happenstance coincidental occurrences. And that same program has predicted that in just 48 hours even more complex formations are going to be laid down in a field near Avebury. Forty-eight hours, Scully, but I wouldn't mind getting there earlier, if you don't mind.”

“Getting where?” she asked. What was he even talking about?

“England. I got two tickets on a 5:30 flight.”

What the…? “Mulder, I still have to go over to the hospital and finish the final paperwork on the autopsy you had me do. And, to be honest, it's Saturday. And I wouldn't mind, I don't know, taking a bath?”

“Well, what the hell does that mean?” Mulder asked, staring at her.

“What it means, Mulder, is I'm not interested in tracking down some sneaky farmers who happened to ace geometry in high school,” she replied, stabbing the air with her fork to emphasize what she was saying.

She saw the hurt look on his face, and wondered if she was coming across as too harsh. “And besides, I mean, what could you possibly get out of this? Or learn? I mean, it's not even remotely FBI-related.”

Mulder stared at her, disappointed. “I'll just cancel your ticket.”

Scully stared at him. What? So he’s just going to go off to England by himself? Good grief.

“Thanks for lunch,” he said caustically, after taking another bite of his sandwich and setting it down next to the projector, and then walked away towards the coat rack, grabbing his leather jacket.

The last thing she wanted was him going off in an angry mood. “Mulder…”

He stopped in the doorway and looked back at her.

“Look, we're always running. We're always chasing the next big thing. Why don't you ever just stay still?”

“I wouldn't know what I'd be missing,” Mulder replied, and disappeared from the doorway as he headed for the exit. His half-eaten sandwich then fell to the floor with the projector’s hand-held advance unit, causing the slides of crop circles to start auto-advancing.

Scully sat there, staring helplessly at the slide projector. And what was she missing out on? Just by sitting here in this basement? By continuing to work the X-Files? By remaining on this path she’d chosen for herself which seemingly had no end to it? And what was Mulder missing out on by refusing to acknowledge her obvious discontent with the way things were? What kind of life were they both missing out on? Why did everything have to be a never-ending quest with him? Won’t he ever want to slow down and simply enjoy life? There’s always some unknown truth out there for Mulder to search for, but what about their own personal truth? What even was their personal truth? There had to be so much more than this, there had to be some way they could both be happy, and Scully couldn’t possibly hope to figure that out alone. But maybe she would have to.


	68. “You still believe you can petition heaven and get some penetrating answer. If you found that answer, what would you do with it?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully come to some life-changing realizations.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of the episode "all things" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Gillian Anderson, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> Sidenote #1: This was one of the first chapters I ever wrote. And all the chapters that have come before were all leading up to this one. I wrote this chapter back in September, and very little has changed since then. 
> 
> Sidenote #2: Back in the late 90's and early 2000's when I read a ton of MSR fanfiction, I recall that a lot of stories featured a sex scene similar to the one in this chapter. I understand that this may not be everyone's cup of tea. But there was one fic in particular that I read when I was maybe 18 or 19 (and it DESTROYED me, btw) that featured a very vivid scene of this nature. I still remember it to this day, and I wish to God I could remember the title or the author. Basically, Mulder & Scully get sent through some time wormhole thing back to the prehistoric days and it is EPICALLY heartbreaking, if I'm remembering correctly. My God, the ANGST. I wish I could read it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sia - "My Love"
> 
> My love  
> Leave yourself behind  
> Beat inside me  
> Leave you blind
> 
> My love  
> You have found peace  
> You were searching  
> For relief
> 
> You gave it all  
> You gave into the call  
> You took a chance and  
> You took the fall for us
> 
> You came thoughtfully  
> Loved me faithfully  
> You've taught me honor  
> You did it for me
> 
> Tonight  
> You will sleep for good  
> You will wait for me  
> My love
> 
> Now I am strong  
> You gave me all  
> You gave all you had  
> And now I am home
> 
> My love  
> Leave yourself behind  
> Beat inside me  
> Leave you blind
> 
> My love  
> Look what you can do  
> I am mending  
> I'll be with you
> 
> You took my hand  
> And added a plan  
> You gave me your heart  
> I asked you to dance with me
> 
> You loved honestly  
> Gave what you could release  
> I know in peace you go  
> I hope relief is yours
> 
> Now I am strong  
> You gave me all  
> You gave all you had  
> And now I am home
> 
> My love  
> Leave yourself behind  
> Beat inside me  
> I'll be with you

It was Saturday evening, April 1st, and Maggie Waterston had stormed out of the hospital room in anger. Scully stood there, not quite knowing what to make of this. She hadn’t seen Maggie since Labor Day Weekend, 1989, when Barbara Waterston had had a picnic for the students Daniel was mentoring, and when Scully graduated from medical school in May 1990 and left Baltimore, Maggie hadn’t even come home from college yet.

“How did she even find out?” Scully asked Daniel.

“There are things you don't know...,” he replied from his hospital bed. “Things I'm not proud of.”

Scully eyed him. “What things?”

“I screwed up, Dana. Things got bad at home after...”

She walked over to sit next to the hospital bed, pausing. “Bad how?”

“I haven't been completely honest with you,” Daniel replied. “It was hard for me... when you walked away. Shut down from my family and, needless to say, it was very difficult for Barbara.”

“You divorced,” Scully said.

He nodded his head slightly. “Only after an interminable period of discomfort for us both.”

Scully wondered how long ago this happened. “Where did you go?”

“Here. Washington.”

A sense of dread filled her stomach. “When?”

“Almost ten years ago,” he answered, speaking softly.

“Daniel... you didn't move here for me?” She didn’t want to believe that, but her stomach knotted even more.

He looked slightly uncomfortable. “I didn't mean for it to happen this way, of course.”

Scully didn’t know how to process this information. What? Why? “Oh, God.” She began to cry, not knowing how to deal with this, with Daniel just walking back into her life at this moment, with everything that she was dealing with: Mulder and the failed IVF, her feelings of frustration and hopelessness.

“You've come at such a strange time.”

“I know, I know,” Daniel replied. “You have a life.”

“I don't know what I have,” Scully said, shaking her head, tears spilling over. “I mean... your X-rays were in the wrong envelope. I never would have even known you were here if it wasn't for a mix-up. It's just...”

He looked at her hard. “What do you want, Dana?”

“I want everything I should want at this time of my life,” she replied. “Maybe I want the life I didn't choose.”

Scully was crying softly, having given up any attempts at controlling her tears. Daniel held out his hand to her, and she clasped it with her own, laying her head down on his chest. He gently stroked her hair as she listened to his heartbeat, her breathing calmed and her tears stopped. She started to wonder why Daniel had never contacted her in all these years, why he’d moved to D.C. nearly 10 years ago, but never looked her up at the FBI, called her, wrote her, made any attempt at seeing her. Suddenly his heart monitor starting racing, and then flat-lined. Scully jumped up, her medical training taking hold, and began performing CPR as she called out for a nurse.

Not long after that, after feeling assured that Daniel was all right, Scully quickly left the hospital and headed home. Her mind still reeled from the fact that he had just nearly died right in front of her. And actually, he was dying right in front of her. This man whom she had once loved, in what seemed like a lifetime ago, who had been so full of power and strength, was falling apart in front of her eyes.

Daniel’s body may be failing, but his mind wasn’t. He still knew all the right buttons to push. He was still bitter about Scully’s choice to not practice medicine and join the FBI. He still praised her medical opinion. He somewhat underhandedly blamed her for whatever hardship his family went through because she left him. He also touched her and held her like he had done so long ago, when she had allowed herself to get so foolishly caught up in the love and romance that she’d terrified herself.

And there he was, this older man, this authority figure, whom she had once craved approval, attention, and affection from, had basically showed her that he still loved her all these years later. But she no longer craved those things from him. She already had an authority figure in her life currently, from whom she sought affection, attention, and approval, and she didn’t think she could handle another one right now.

But as Scully entered her apartment on Saturday night, she realized, not for the first time, that Mulder was really nothing like Daniel. True, Mulder could be authoritative and controlling at times, but nothing like Daniel. Mulder had a hold on her as to who he thought she was, who she should be, and what she should do with her life, but nothing like Daniel.

Mulder allowed her to make choices. Scully was just now realizing that, maybe for the first time. He hadn’t kept her from the medical profession. She knew she was free to do whatever she wanted with her life. Yes, Mulder quite often told her what to do or just assumed she would do things just because he wanted her to or because he himself thought they were important. Scully had felt frustrated that she could seemingly never say ‘no’ to him; that she always had to do whatever he wanted. But that wasn’t because of Mulder; that was her. She could say ‘no.’ Scully could say ‘no’ whenever she chose to. The fact was, she always chose to say ‘yes.’ The one time she’d actually chosen to firmly say ‘no’ to him, by refusing to go to England, she ran into Daniel. Scully didn’t want to dwell too much on that fact at the moment.

And look where saying ‘yes’ had gotten her. Scully had a life that Daniel could never appreciate, never understand. He couldn’t possibly fathom everything she’d seen and done in their years spent apart, her years spent with Mulder. But Daniel loved her, that was certain, and her life could’ve been so much different had she stayed with him. She most likely would’ve had that peaceful life she wanted. She would’ve had a home with a family of her own. Her life would’ve been so much different. The things she’d suffered would never have happened, the pain she’d endured, the pain she’d caused.

Scully could feel the guilt start to weigh her down. She felt guilty about so many things, until soon she was spiraling with her feelings of guilt and shame. She felt guilty over the murder of her sister, and the death of Emily. She felt guilty over what had happened with the Smoking Man. She felt guilty over how she’d been treating Mulder lately. She felt guilty over her body’s rejection of his children. She once again felt guilty over her relationship with Daniel, and the apparent effect this had on his daughter, his wife.

As she dressed into her silk pajamas and climbed into bed, Scully didn’t think she had ever missed Mulder more than at that moment. She wished he was there, so she could talk about Daniel. So she could unburden herself of all this guilt she was carrying around with her. Scully suddenly thought of Colleen Azar, the woman Mulder had sent her to see. Colleen reminded her so much of Melissa. The longer she’d stood outside Colleen’s house, the more reminded she was, and had been in a hurry to get away.

_“There is a greater intelligence in all things. Accidents, or near accidents, often remind us that we need to keep our mind open to the lessons it gives. You may want to slow down.”_

God, that had been such a Melissa thing to say. Ten years ago, Scully was regularly rolling her eyes and scoffing at these idioms of her sister’s, and her Delphian advice. How much she’d changed since then. Now, Scully found herself wanting to hear them, maybe even needing to. The next morning, instead of heading to Alexandria to attend Mass at St. John’s Church with her mother, she decided to drive back over to Colleen Azar’s house.

Her house was a real home, comforting and filled with warmth, and Scully was once again reminded of her sister. She imagined Melissa living in a house just like that one. Colleen spoke to her about auras and mysticism, things Scully had often heard her sister speak about, and sometimes Mulder. Except this time, Scully was actually paying attention.

_“Where there's pain there's a need for healing: physically, mentally or spiritually. When we hold onto shame and guilt and fear it creates imbalance, makes us forget who we are.”_

Scully sighed, recognizing her sister once again, knowing there was probably much truth in those statements. What if the guilt she carried around, and the fear, had created such an imbalance inside her? What if this was the reason the IVF treatments had all failed? Did she need healing of some kind? She doubted whether letting go was something Daniel was capable of. But he needed closure, just like anyone. Scully knew that she had to let go, too. And this was much easier said than done.

_“You came here looking for answers and you want something to take back with you. Everything happens for a reason.”_

Another one of Melissa’s mantras. As a doctor, Scully had always believed that absolutely nothing happens for a reason. A young pregnant woman gets cancer, a loving husband and father gets a brain aneurysm, a drunk runs a stop sign and sends a carful of elderly women to the hospital with broken bones. There was no reason. Shit happens, and we have to deal with it the best way we can. But was that right? Were people just holding on to fear and guilt? Were they simply not paying attention to what was happening in their lives? Were there signs along the way, which they ignored? Were they supposed to make different choices?

Scully needed to clear the air with Daniel, once and for all. She needed to let go of the guilt, and the responsibility she felt about what had happened back then. She had just been a young woman, away from home for the first time, dealing with the unmitigated pressure of medical school, craving the approval of her brilliant mentor. Daniel was the full-grown adult, a husband, a father, an authority figure. It was time he took responsibility for his actions.

*****

Mulder’s transatlantic British Airways flight departed Washington Dulles International Airport at 5:30 pm on Saturday and arrived at London’s Heathrow Airport at 5:25 am on Sunday, April 2nd. The seven hour flight hadn’t been that bad, as he’d been able to sleep through half of it despite the eager flight attendants wanting to regularly ensure he had enough snacks, drinks, pillows, and blankets. God, what he’d really wanted to tell these women was that he clearly didn’t have enough fucking silence. Eventually they left him alone, and everyone else, once the sun set and the plane cabin grew dark.

After departing Heathrow Airport, Mulder rented a car and checked into The Cranley House, a small hotel with only 24 rooms that lied about halfway between the airport and London’s city center. The hotel was also an operating pub, and had the casual, laid-back atmosphere that he preferred. His room wasn’t ready yet, so he decided to drive out to the countryside of Wiltshire and have a look around.

An hour and a half after departing London, Mulder had arrived in Amesbury shortly after 8:30 am, where he stopped and had a fresh, home cooked English breakfast at The White Hart. About an hour later, he departed and drove the short distance to Stonehenge. There he walked around with a complimentary audio guide with headphones, and even occasionally asked people if they’d heard anything about crop circles lately, getting some strange looks or hearty chuckles in reply. He supposed it couldn’t hurt to ask. All in all, Mulder spent about two hours at Stonehenge, including a stop in the gift shop, and made a point to leave as soon as the tour coaches from London started arriving.

Mulder then drove 35 minutes north on the A342 to Avebury and proceeded to park himself inside The Stag in the Cornfield, a traditional pub that had been in operation since the 18th century. There he remained for the rest of the day, until just before the 9:30 pm closing time, occasionally ordering a lager or sometimes a Coke, and had the pub chef’s signature ‘spicy sticky beef stew’ and a ginger beer for dinner.

Approximately 45 minutes before closing time, a group of men apparently belonging to the Young Farmers’ Club had walked into The Stag and sat closely together around three tables, ordered beers and remained hunched together until last call. Mulder didn’t think they looked all that young, and had immediately known the jig was up.

He’d sighed as he watched them, knowing full well that crop circles were ridiculous and a huge hoax. But what if they weren’t all a hoax? What if it was possible to capture proof of some meteorological event, some strange and new phenomena brought about by weather or some shift in the magnetic field? What if some invisible force as yet unexplained by science could be witnessed? What if undeniable scientific proof could actually be attained?

What if Scully had just agreed to spend a few days with him in England?

Mulder knew he’d be enjoying himself a hell of a lot more if she had come along. He wouldn’t have been sitting in this pub all day, apparently waiting around just to lay his eyes on the pranksters who were about to level some complex geometric shapes in a field. Maybe he would’ve taken Scully around Oxford, shown her around the campus and some of his old haunts. They could’ve spent a day in London, checking out some of the city sights. That could’ve been fun.

So why hadn’t he just told her all that? Why did he think he needed a work excuse to get Scully to go with him somewhere? He hadn’t really been all that seriously interested in crop circles, and she could’ve easily persuaded him into doing something else with his time once they’d arrived in England. The truth was, he went without her out of stubbornness and perhaps to get away from the elephant in the room.

But Mulder didn’t exactly know what the elephant was, but it had been there going on three weeks and it filled his stomach with a dull sense of dread that wasn't going away. Was it the Smoking Man? The failed IVF? His own jerk off behavior? Scully’s aloofness? The sudden pronounced irritability between them? Or the avoidance of each other outside work? The fact neither of them had spent any time together in their respective apartments since the day she’d returned from that road trip with Cancer Man? Some combination of all those things?

He’d wanted to talk to her about all this, but it only made him feel awkward. And he had to once again throw himself into the X-Files as a way to divert his attention from whatever was going on with them. But how would he even have started such a conversation? The idea filled him with fear.

'Yeah, Scully, I know we’ve been fucking for six months, but something’s obviously not working out. So are we still friends, or what?'

'So when Cancer Man said you were too afraid to love me, what was that about, huh?'

'Oh, hey, Scully? So I’m sorry the IVF was a wash and all, but do you still wanna have my baby? By the way, do you wanna go check out some crop circles while you think about it?'

Mulder abruptly stood up from the circular table, threw down some cash, put on his leather jacket, and walked out of the pub. After getting into his rental car, he started driving back to London, his mind racing. He really could’ve found some way to broach that conversation. It honestly wouldn’t have been all that difficult. The problem was… and maybe this was actually the elephant in the room… was that Mulder had no fucking idea how Scully would respond to such questions. That’s what was terrifying, and maybe that’s why he stubbornly got on a plane by himself and flew over 3,500 miles to get away from the puzzle that was her.

As he drove on the M4 towards London, Scully’s last words to him and his response to them ran around in circles in his brain: _“Why don't you ever just stay still?”… “I wouldn't know what I'd be missing.”_ Well, right now Mulder was missing Scully. He’d been missing her for the past three weeks. He pulled out the cheap mobile phone he’d purchased to use while in the UK and got on the line with British Airways, changing his Tuesday morning flight to Monday afternoon.

Early the following morning, Mulder awoke in his room at The Cranley House, showered, dressed, and packed his duffel bag. He then decided to spend the morning visiting some favorite spots in London before having to leave for Heathrow. At 9:00 am, he visited his favorite coffee house, Algerian Coffee Stores, on Old Compton Street. At 10:00 am, he arrived at the British Museum and wandered around a couple different exhibits, and the bookshop. While perusing through an ancient Egyptian book of the dead, he was unexpectedly interrupted by a familiar female voice.

“Well, well. If it isn’t my friend, Mulder.”

He froze. Then he chuckled, smiling to himself, before turning around to face the direction the voice came from. And there she was: Tall, beautiful, dark brown hair just past her shoulders with bangs over her forehead, dressed all in black except for a red scarf. She was also holding onto the hands of two small dark-haired children, a boy and a girl.

“Phoebe Green.”

She smiled. “Actually, it’s Phoebe Green-Robertson now.”

“Oh, okay,” Mulder replied, nodding. He then glanced down at the children, smiling.

Phoebe smiled. “And these are my twins. Harriet and Fred. They’re four years old now, will be five later this summer. Say hello to Mummy’s friend, Mulder.”

Instead, the twins turned and hid their faces against Phoebe’s dress pant-clad legs. “They’re shy.”

Mulder chuckled. “That’s okay.”

“So how are you? I thought you vowed never to set foot in England again.”

He smirked. “I believe at one time that may have been true.”

“How long are you in town for?” Phoebe asked.

“I’m leaving today,” Mulder replied. “My flight back to D.C. leaves at 1:00.”

Phoebe frowned disappointedly. “Oh, no, really?”

Mulder nodded.

She then turned to look around behind her. “Gemma!”

About 10 seconds later, a young woman with cropped short red hair approached them. “Yes, Phoebe?”

“Take the children, will you? I won’t be long, and I’ll come find you when I finish catching up with Mr. Mulder here.”

Gemma nodded, took the children by the hand and walked away to another section of the bookshop. Phoebe then turned back to Mulder. “Do you have some time to chat? We can sit at one of the tables in the café. I do hope you’re hungry because I’m starved.”

Mulder smiled. “Sure.”

After walking through the shop, they entered the café, where they each grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of water, which Phoebe paid for, stating “My treat.”

They then sat down at a table together, which Mulder found to be surprisingly comfortable and not at all awkward, like he would have expected. “So, who’s Gemma?”

Phoebe had to finish chewing her bite of sandwich before she could reply. “The nanny. She’s also Oliver’s cousin.”

Mulder slowly nodded his head, twitching his mouth slightly.

“Oliver is my husband,” Phoebe quickly explained.

“Oh, yeah, okay,” Mulder replied, understanding. “So what does Oliver do?”

Phoebe picked up her bottled water, taking a sip. “He’s a barrister. So what have you been doing with yourself? Still working those X-Files for the FBI?”

Mulder smirked. “Yep. You still working for Scotland Yard?”

She scoffed. “Oh, no. Gave that up ages ago, when the twins were born. Not really the ideal job for a mother, now is it?”

He snorted. “I guess not. Uh, how long have you and Oliver been married?”

“Five years. It was one of those whirlwind things. We met inside Westminster Magistrates' Court one morning, and six months later I was pregnant and we were getting married. It was all very fast and completely unexpected. But that’s the way love is, I guess.”

He nodded, taking a bite of his sandwich.

Phoebe eyed him thoughtfully. “But sometimes it’s more of a slow burn for some people. So… are you still working with that partner? Scully?”

“Yeah,” Mulder replied, nodding.

“Hmm,” Phoebe responded, pursing her lips. “So, is there anything else happening in your life? Other than the X-Files?”

He sighed, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders slightly.

"How're your parents?" asked Phoebe.

Mulder sighed again. "My dad was killed several years ago. My mom passed away almost two months ago."

Her eyes widened, and then she frowned sadly. "Oh, how dreadful. I'm so sorry."

"It's all right," he replied. "Really."

She nodded. “Do you… have anyone special in your life?” Phoebe asked curiously.

“Uh, yeah… Scully,” he said, smiling.

Phoebe smirked. “You don’t say.”

Mulder gave her a half smile.

She pursed her lips. “Did she come to England with you?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“Hmm,” Phoebe replied again. “Er… why not?”

Mulder sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“So is life,” Phoebe shrugged. “Come on. I know you Americans love talking about your feelings. But you might be the only exception, though.”

He chuckled. “All right, then.” Mulder proceeded to tell an increasingly surprised Phoebe a little about the past three IVF attempts and failures.

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “And here you told me that you never, ever wanted children. Next thing you’ll be telling me is that you’re marrying the woman.”

“I can’t really see that happening,” Mulder replied. “Anyways, I didn’t want them, then. Now…”

She nodded. “You just didn’t want children with me.”

“You didn’t want them either. And I was very young, Phoebe. We both were.”

She smiled. “That we were. Young, and very foolish.”

“Those two things tend to go hand in hand,” Mulder quipped dryly.

Phoebe grinned at him, nodding. He smiled.

After finishing their sandwiches in comfortable camaraderie and saying goodbye, when Mulder stated that he needed to head to the airport, he walked out of the British Museum and to nearby Bloomsbury Square, where his rental car was parked. As he drove towards London Heathrow, he thought about Phoebe Green and how from the moment he first heard her voice in the bookshop, he’d had a growing realization that he no longer felt any sense of anger, resentment, or bitterness towards her. In fact, he felt nothing negative at all. He was actually pleased to see her.

Mulder felt surprised at this, but at the same time he didn’t. As he sat across from Phoebe at the café table, memories from their past together floated to the front of his mind and he wondered how in the world he had ever imagined himself in love with her. Their relationship had certainly been obsessive, and at times destructive, and he subsequently became hung up on Phoebe for several years after that. But was it real love? He had thought so at the time. But what the hell did he know back then? He knew nothing.

As Mulder boarded British Airways flight 217, nonstop from London to Washington, D.C., he was counting down the hours until he returned home to Scully.

*****

Scully drove back to Washington National Hospital after leaving Colleen Azar's house, before first stopping at a florist’s shop to purchase a bouquet of red flowers, and went up to Daniel’s room. But what she found there she hadn’t been expecting. Maggie’s anger wasn’t a surprise, but finding Daniel in a coma certainly was. She knew Maggie clearly didn’t want her there, nor would her flowers be well-received, and so Scully left the hospital.

Instead of heading towards her car in the parking lot, Scully wanted to walk. She was in no hurry to go home, and felt the need to clear her head. She soon found herself walking through Chinatown. Scully couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in this neighborhood. Probably not since Ethan. What a random thought. Ethan Minette. She hadn’t seen or spoken to him, or even thought about him, in almost seven years. She supposed their relationship had ended the moment she walked into that basement office and shook hands with Fox Mulder, but of course they stuck it out for two more months. She suddenly thought about Daniel’s words concerning him and Barbara as she stood and looked up at a sign for an Apothecary. _“Only after an interminable period of discomfort for us both.”_ Scully could relate.

And there she was. That blonde woman in the baseball hat walking across the block. Scully ran after her, nearly getting hit by a bicyclist, and lost track of her. But she’d ended up standing in front of a plain wooden door, and Scully believed this must be where the blonde woman went. Upon entering, she saw she’d walked into an Oriental garden which appeared to be the outer courtyard encasing large and ornate mahogany double doors. Scully quietly opened one of the doors and stepped inside, immediately noticing she’d entered a temple beautifully lit with votive candles and beams of light streaming inside from the ceiling above.

Scully walked further inside until she was standing in front of a large golden statue of the Buddha. She felt powerful emotion swell within her, and found herself suddenly kneeling on one of the pillows in front of the statue. As she closed her eyes and moved to bow forward, desperately praying to God for some clarity, her life suddenly flashed in front of her: her father’s funeral, her father in his navy uniform, her mother, Mulder, the Smoking Man, Melissa, meeting Mulder for the first time, his 'I Want To Believe' poster, Colleen Azar, caring for a sick and dying Emily, she and Mulder witnessing her first UFO sighting at Ellens Air Force Base, Mulder holding her in the Allentown hospital hallway after her decision to fight her cancer, her abduction from Skyland Mountain. Suddenly she could see Daniel lying transparent, surrounded by a bright white light, his blackened heart pumping. His lips were moving, but Scully heard no sound. His eyes then flew open to stare at her.

Scully gasped and opened her eyes. She was still sitting in the temple. How long had she been here? Had it been seconds, minutes, or an hour? She couldn’t tell, and this somewhat frightened her. She stared up at the Buddha, suddenly remembering Mulder’s words to her in that Allentown hospital. _“The truth will save you, Scully. I think it’ll save both of us.”_

Mulder had been right, the truth had saved them. Now she could only hope it that would also save Daniel. Scully immediately left the temple, and walked back towards the hospital, where she found Maggie inside.

“Why the hell do you keep coming back here to see him?” she spit out. “Haven’t you done enough damage?”

Scully sighed. “I’m here to talk to you, Maggie.”

She swallowed. “Why?”

“Because I have no idea what happened after I graduated from medical school,” Scully replied. “I have no idea what you’ve been through, or what happened with your mother. And I want to know. I’ll never be able to apologize the way I want to or help your father if I don’t know what really happened.”

Maggie sighed, nodding tensely, and then she led the way to the waiting area nearby. After a long and emotional conversation, Scully got on the phone with Colleen Azar and asked her if she knew of a spiritual healer who would be available to come see Daniel. About an hour later, Colleen arrived along with the healer, a Mr. Peter Cowan. Daniel’s doctor strongly objected, but to Scully’s surprise Maggie stepped in and permitted the spiritual healing session.

On Sunday night, Scully sat down in her living room in front of a fire, cozied up under a blanket and drank a mug of chamomile tea. For the first time in a long time, she felt at peace with herself, with the current state of her life, and the choices she’d made. If someone had asked her 24 hours earlier if she believed in auras and chakras and spiritual healing, she probably would’ve responded with a sardonic stare complete with sarcastic eyebrow. But now it didn’t seem so crazy. Who could say the negative emotions that people hang onto don’t affect them physically? Scully knew that they did, and that there was real value to Colleen Azar’s belief system. What she didn’t know was whether the healer had done Daniel any good; whether Daniel would be open to letting go of the pain and guilt he’d been carrying around with him for so long, whether spiritual healing would really work for him. Only time would tell.

*****

After being woken up at 5:00 am on Monday, April 3rd, by Maggie calling her from the hospital, Scully showered and dressed in her black skirt suit and olive green sweater. She arrived at Washington National Hospital just past 7:30 am, to see Daniel awake, sitting up in bed, and looking better than she expected.

“Daniel?” she said as she entered his room.

“You think I'd give up so easily?” he replied.

Scully exhaled the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, and walked over to stand next to the bed, but making sure to remain out of his arm’s reach. “You were slipping away. No one thought you'd come out of this. I'm still in shock.”

“Imagine my shock when my doctor told me the voodoo ritual you'd arranged for last night,” Daniel responded.

“I was afraid it didn't work,” Scully said.

He chuckled. “Of course it didn't work. Don't be absurd. Where do you get this crap?”

She stared at him. “Daniel, that ‘crap’ may have just saved your life whether you're open to it or not.”

“It doesn't matter,” he said, obviously wanting to change the subject. “I don't wanna talk about that.”

Scully averted her eyes. She knew what he wanted, but there was no way.

“Look at me,” Daniel told her, and she met his eyes. “I'm going to get well. And we need to talk about... what happens next for us.”

He was looking at her with warmth, but also confidence. Scully could see that he hadn’t let go, but she could also see he presumed she would want to start a life with him, as if the past 10 years had never happened. He was living in the past; refusing to truly acknowledge the pain and hardship his family had to endure during that time.

“I spoke at length to Maggie,” Scully replied, her eyes welling up with tears, knowing that what she had to say would only hurt him again, but some things were necessary. “It's time... that you took responsibility for the hurt you caused in your family. It's no accident that you got sick, Daniel. You've been running from the truth for ten years.”

“Dana...,” he whispered, clearly not wanting to hear this. “It was only to be with you. You were all I lived for.”

 _That was the problem_ , Scully thought. “Maybe the reason you're alive now is to make up for that. To make it up to Maggie.”

“That's Maggie talking, not you,” he scoffed.

“No, I’m not the same person, Daniel,” said Scully, her voice starting to break with emotion. “I wouldn't have known that if I hadn't seen you again.”

She turned to see Maggie walk through the door, looked back at Daniel, knowing she’d probably never see him again, and then walked out of his hospital room.

Scully ended up wandering around the hospital corridors, observing doctors and nurses busily going about their day, patients entering and departing rooms on stretchers. This could have been her life. Treating the sick, maybe even saving lives from disease or injury. Scully had no idea how long she had been inside the hospital, but she just found herself walking from corridor to corridor, floor to floor, contentedly gazing at what her life might’ve been, occasionally returning to the coronary care unit to check in with Daniel's physician on his progress.

There was no doubt in her mind that Daniel would have indeed married her. And she believed he would have been faithful to her. She could’ve been a fairly successful surgeon at Johns Hopkins Hospital. She could’ve come home to her Baltimore mansion in the upscale neighborhood of Guilford each day, to a husband who loved her and even some children. And 10 years later she would’ve been the same person she was when she graduated medical school.

Her personal growth had come from her years spent at the FBI, at Quantico, on the X-Files, her years spent with Mulder. Scully wouldn’t give that up for anything, even the quiet life she had thought she wanted. She thought about what Daniel had asked her on Saturday night. _“What do you want, Dana?”_

She didn’t know then. She hadn’t truly known for a long time. But now she did. Scully knew what she wanted. She wanted nothing, nothing other than what she already had, what she’d had all along. But it had taken her this long to figure it out. And now she just had to wait for him to come home from England. But as she walked out of the hospital late on Monday afternoon, she walked with a heavy heart. She felt bad at how she’d acted with Mulder over the last couple weeks, and truthfully over the past several months.

Scully had been anxiously wondering how the two of them could ever be happy together, blaming Mulder and his devotion to the X-Files as the reason happiness was kept from their reach, blaming Mulder and the X-Files for her own fears. The truth was that she was the reason she was afraid, she was the reason they weren’t happy, she was the one holding them back.

Because Mulder? Mulder was a fairly content person, Scully realized. He’d always been that way, really, at least as long as she’d known him. He’d made some kind of peace with his solitary existence long ago, and he found personal fulfillment in his work. He’d also then found personal fulfillment in their partnership, gradually accepting the fact he was no longer alone in life. And he rarely, if ever, asked for anything more.

Scully had realized that she was able to let go of the guilt and shame she’d been burdened with since leaving Daniel. But she found that letting go of the fear was much harder. Mulder was so important to her, now more than ever. She might not have fully realized that if she hadn’t come across Daniel again, and saw a glimpse of what her life would’ve been like had she never joined the FBI all those years ago, saw a vision of the events in her life which had shaped the woman she was today.

She so badly wanted to talk to Mulder. There were so many things she wanted to tell him. And as she stood outside Washington National Hospital, nurses, patients and visitors walking all around her, Scully looked over and saw the same blonde woman with the ponytail, wearing blue jeans, a beige jacket, and that baseball cap. The woman who had saved her from driving in front of a Mack truck, the same woman who had led her to the temple. Scully ran after her, past some slow-moving nuns, approaching the woman from behind, throwing her arm up to the woman’s shoulder.

“Excuse me!”

Scully turned the woman around, but suddenly it was Mulder. “Hey.”

He was wearing a baseball hat that said ‘Stonehenge Rocks’ and he was obviously happy to see her.

“Mulder?”

“I was just looking for you.” He'd called her answering service, and the message had stated she'd be in and out of Washington National Hospital.

“But you're supposed to be in England.” She hadn’t expected him back for at least another day.

He nodded. “I'm back.”

“What happened?” asked Scully.

“Nothing,” Mulder replied, feeling bummed about going all that way just for a hoax. “There was no event, no crop circles. Big waste of time.”

She sighed, but didn’t feel surprised. “Maybe sometimes nothing happens for a reason, Mulder.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“Nothing,” replied Scully, smiling. “Come on, I'll make you some tea.”

She then put her arm around Mulder’s back companionably, and they walked away from the hospital. When they reached the parking lot, Mulder grabbed Scully’s hand and threaded their fingers.

“I missed you,” he said, looking down at her.

Scully smiled at him. When they approached her car, Mulder opened the driver’s side door for her, before walking around and getting into the passenger seat. His heart had swelled when Scully allowed him to hold her hand through the parking lot. In broad daylight. In public. In the middle of Washington, D.C.

“Where to?” she asked.

Mulder and Scully looked at each other, shrugging. Whose place were they going to?

“You hungry, Scully?”

She suddenly felt her stomach growl at the thought of food. She’d only grabbed some yogurt and granola out of the hospital cafeteria around noon, and that was over five hours ago. “I’m starving.”

“Ripley’s,” Mulder said.

Scully smiled. The fried veggie basket sounded good to her.

Once they arrived at Ripley’s on Diamond Street in Alexandria they commandeered their regular small crescent booth in a dark back corner, and placed their orders with the waiter. Over their meal, Mulder told Scully all about England, including his trip to Stonehenge, the pub in Avebury and the group of Young Farmers’ Club members huddled together. She only smirked, and nodded.

“I also ran into Phoebe Green in London this morning,” Mulder said.

Scully’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? How did that go? Was she still all ablaze?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, ablaze with kids. And a lawyer husband.”

“Really? Huh.” Scully dipped her last fried cauliflower into the small plastic cup of horseradish sauce.

“So… how was it?” she asked hesitantly, before popping it into her mouth.

Mulder shrugged. “Fine. It was good to see her. It reminded me of just how much has happened since I last saw her.”

Scully sighed. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

“When I last saw her, when we worked that arson case, it had been eight years or something since I’d seen her before that. And she still tied me up in knots. But now, she had zero effect on me. I felt nothing.”

“Time changes people,” Scully replied. “You grow. Change. And you learn that there were persons who at one time may have had quite the strong hold on your life, and who you were as a person. But with time and life experiences, you find that they no longer fill the place in your life that they once did.”

Mulder nodded, giving her a small smile. Not long after, they departed the bar and headed to his apartment in Hegal Place. Once they got inside, Scully kicked off her heels by the coat rack and walked into the kitchen. She filled his kettle up with water and set it on the stove to boil, before pulling out two large mugs from a shelf in one of the cabinets, and then turned to grab the box of herbal mint tea out from another cabinet.

He stood in the entryway between the kitchen and dining room, leaning against the beam, watching Scully work around the kitchen. He felt something was different about her, but he couldn’t quite figure it out. He felt relieved beyond words that the tension and strife he'd left behind was apparently no longer between them. Mulder supposed it might be one of those things that made up the unexplainable mystery that was Dana Scully. Of course, if he never asked her personal questions, he’d never get any closer to deciphering this mystery.

“So… Scully. What did you do with yourself while I was chasing after sneaky farmers?”

She snorted, and then sighed. “Actually, I happened to run into someone I hadn’t seen in a long time, too.”

“Was this an old boyfriend?” Mulder teased, before pausing to think if he knew the names of any of her old boyfriends. “Did Marcus show his face in D.C.? Oh, it wasn’t that Ethan guy, was it?”

Scully chuckled. “No, it wasn’t Ethan.”

“Good, that guy was a jerk.”

“He wasn’t really a jerk, Mulder. He just didn’t like you calling me up late at night. He didn’t like you taking me away on the weekends to hunt down UFO sightings. He just… didn’t like you.”

He scoffed. Scully rolled her eyes amusedly. “At least you got rid of him.”

“Actually, he got rid of me,” she responded. “Technically.”

“You’re kidding,” said Mulder. He thought any guy who’d get rid of Scully had smoke for brains.

She smiled at him. “No. He gave me an ultimatum. I had to choose between him and work. But what he really meant was I had to choose between him and you.”

Mulder’s eyes widened slightly. “So what happened?”

“Well, I’m standing here with you right now, aren’t I?” Scully asked, smirking at him as she poured the boiling hot water into their mugs.

He smiled, gazing at her. “You are.”

They then walked into his living room, planting themselves on his leather couch, and drank their tea.

“So, then, who’s this person you ran into?” he asked.

Scully took a sip of her tea, thinking. “An old professor from medical school, and my mentor through all four years. Dr. Daniel Waterston. He’s in the hospital with a serious heart condition, and I ran into him when I went to collect the paperwork on the Szczesny autopsy. His daughter was also there and she was, uh, not happy to see me. And that’s an understatement. She was livid, actually; disgusted.”

He looked over at her. “Why?”

She sighed. “In my last year of medical school, Daniel and I, uh, became involved. He was married at the time.”

His eyes widened. “Oh.” He wanted to say more, ask more. But he felt that what he was about to get was a huge piece of the puzzle, and he didn’t want her to hold back the details, so he should probably share something personal as well. “Since we’re making confessions, I have one.”

“Oh?” she asked, looking at him questioningly.

“I… once… had sex with a vampire,” he said before taking another sip from his mug. “At least I think she was. Or she at least kept company with vampires.”

Scully paused. “If you’re referring to the one case you worked during my abduction, I already know about that.”

He looked at her incredulously. “How could you possibly know?”

“I read the case file, Mulder.”

He gave her a bewildered look. “I didn’t write that I had sex with the woman in the report, Scully.”

She smirked at him. “I read between the lines.”

He chuckled. “I’ll have you know that was the one and only time I was ever with someone else. Since I met you.”

Scully threw a surprised stare at him. “But… Mulder. That was… well over five years ago.”

“I know,” he said, nodding, suddenly wanting to change the subject. “So what happened with this Daniel guy's daughter?”

“Oh, yeah. His daughter, Maggie, was a senior in high school back then. Right after the FBI recruited me, Daniel told me he was going to divorce his wife. I loved him, but I just… I couldn’t do it. I knew that was the wrong path for me. Everything about it told me to run in the opposite direction. I didn’t want to practice medicine, I wanted to go to Quantico. And so I left him.”

“Hmm,” he replied. “That was so long ago, Scully. Why would his daughter be livid and disgusted all these years later?”

Scully sighed. “After I left, Daniel shut down to his family, closed himself off to them. Eventually he divorced his wife and moved to Washington in 1991. His wife fell into a crippling depression after that, and Maggie had to move back home to take care of her. About a year or so later, Maggie came home one day and found her mother had hung herself in her bedroom.”

“Oh, my God,” said Mulder, in shock.

“I know. It’s terrible. And so, of course, Maggie blamed me for her parents’ divorce and for her mother’s death. But I had no idea any of that had happened. We were able to talk about it, and I explained to her all my reasons for leaving her father and how awful I felt about what's happened to her family. Also over the weekend Daniel fell into a coma. I visited that Colleen Azar you told me about, and she really helped me. She helped him, too, when I asked her to bring in a healer to the hospital.”

He nodded. “I’m glad you were able to find some benefit from what Colleen does.”

She smiled. “She reminded me a lot of my sister. If she were alive, I imagine Melissa would live almost like that. Well, maybe exactly like that. She did attend a liberal arts women’s college, after all. You never know.”

He turned a grin on her, chuckling. “So was Colleen the woman who saved your life?”

“What?” asked Scully, giving him a confused look.

“When we were on the phone, when I was at the airport, you said a woman just saved your life.”

Scully remembered almost pulling out in front of that truck. “Oh, no that was the blonde woman.”

“What blonde woman?” Mulder asked, staring at her.

She proceeded to tell him all about the mystery surrounding this blonde woman, showing up at certain times, and Scully attempting to track her down or follow her. She told him about following the woman to the temple, and kneeling in front of the Buddha statue.

“It was like a vision, Mulder. I was praying to God for some clarity. And I saw my life flash before my eyes. Memories of the last seven years, the choices I made in life clearly defined. And I felt… at peace with myself, and the choices I’ve made. I knew they were the right ones, and that the path I was on was the right one. No more doubts, or second-guesses. No more wishing my life was different from what it is. And I just know that this is where I’m meant to be, what I’m meant to be doing. I still wouldn’t change a day, you know.”

He smiled at her, as she set her mug down and slid a little closer to him, leaning against his arm, and put her feet up on the coffee table. She felt her eyelids growing heavy. It had been such a long day.

“Anyways, this morning Daniel woke up from his coma, and he seemed to think there was still an ‘us,’ or a definite chance there could be an ‘us’ again. I had to make him see that I wasn’t that young woman anymore. I’d changed, grown. He no longer had a hold on me, not the one he wanted.”

Mulder sighed. “I just find it hard to believe.”

“What part?” she asked.

“The part where I go away for two days and your whole life changes,” he retorted.

“Mmm, I didn't say my whole life changed,” said Scully sleepily. This couch was so comfortable, and Mulder was so warm. She really could just fall asleep right here.

He looked at her. “You speaking to God in a Buddhist temple. God speaking back.”

“Mmm, and I didn't say that God spoke back. I said that I had some kind of a vision.”

“Well, for you, that's like saying you're having David Crosby's baby,” Mulder quipped. And then immediately regretted it. What a great fucking metaphor. Why in the world did he bring that up? She should’ve been having his baby. He still couldn’t figure out a way to enter into a conversation about this. But maybe David Crosby was a good segue way.

‘Oh, hey, Scully, instead of David Crosby? How about I be your not-exactly-anonymous-sperm-donor? Or was I going to be something more than that? We never did talk about what would happen if the IVF worked. Hell, we never talked about what we’d do if it failed.’

She smiled to herself, thinking of how their partnership had changed over the past six months, how Mulder had stuck by her through the emotional rollercoaster of three IVF attempts, how he’d willingly put himself through it, for her. What if she’d never met him? What if she’d stayed with Daniel?

“What is it?” Mulder asked.

“I once considered spending my whole life with this man. What I would have missed.” She leaned closer to him, resting against his arm

He thought of running into Phoebe in London, how different their lives had become. “I don't think you can know. I mean, how many different lives would we be leading if we made different choices? We... We don't know.”

“What if there was only one choice and all the other ones were wrong? And there were signs along the way to pay attention to.” Scully thought back to the moment Blevins had assigned her to work with Mulder, of walking down into the basement office, and shaking his hand. How could that have been mere happenstance? So many things could’ve prevented that moment from occurring.

He wasn’t so sure about all that. “Hmm. And all the... choices would then lead to this very moment. One wrong turn, and... we wouldn't be sitting here together. Well, that says a lot. That says a lot, a lot, a lot. That's probably more than we should be getting into at this late hour.”

Mulder looked down at Scully. She had fallen asleep against his shoulder. He looked at her tenderly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, and gazed at her. Once again, he felt dumbfounded that he’d ever fancied himself in love with Phoebe Green. He pulled his black and brown Aztec Indian blanket over her and carefully tucked it around her, before getting up off the couch and heading to the bathroom.

*****

Scully woke up on the couch and glanced at the clock; it was 9:46 pm. She must’ve been asleep for a while. “Mulder?” He wasn’t in the room.

He walked out of the kitchen through the foyer to stand in the opening to the living room. “Yeah?”

She pushed the blanket off to the side, and stood up. “I was just wondering where you were.”

“I’m here,” he said, giving her a half smile.

She bit her bottom lip, and he stared at her. His posture there in the opening was almost exactly like what it had been the day she’d returned from Pennsylvania, from her solo mission with the Smoking Man. Mulder had been so very angry with her, and her stomach clenched remembering the withering look on his face as he’d refused to make eye contact with her. Over the next two weeks they didn’t talk much about it, but they did eventually apologize and explain themselves. However, their tone of voice and their tense conversations had revealed lingering anger or resentment beneath the surface. Apologies had been made, but the hurt and anger hadn’t really gone away. This was really the first time they’d been alone at one of their apartments since her stunt with Smoking Man. Neither of them had made any plans together after work, each going home alone to their own apartment.

As Mulder watched her standing there, he realized that they had been in a fight. That’s really what all that tension and anger was. A fight that had lasted nearly three weeks. That was such a ‘couple’ thing, that the thought had never entered into his mind until just now. In all his past relationships, fighting meant raised voices, harsh words, and slamming doors. A fight with Scully meant silence, and distance. He hated it. And as he looked at her, he realized he wasn’t irritated that she hadn’t gone with him to England, he didn’t give a damn about that Dr. Daniel, and he wasn’t angry at all over Scully endangering herself by foolishly wanting to believe the Smoking Man. He’d been there himself many times before. And he knew it really hadn’t been true anger, only the kind that stemmed from debilitating fear; the fear that he could lose her, and in the worst possible way.

She watched him looking at her. She knitted her brows, and then stared down at her hands. “I’m sorry, Mulder,” she sighed. “For everything. I’ve behaved…”

He shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He quickly walked towards her and she moved to meet him, wrapping their arms around one another and sighing contentedly.

“Scully?” Mulder breathed into her hair.

“Hmm?” she responded, squeezing his waist tighter.

“I wanna make out,” he whispered.

She chuckled.

“Let’s pretend we’re back in high school.”

She laughed.

He pulled her by the hand into his bedroom, turning on the light, and then held onto her hips as she got up on the bed. After removing her black jacket, she lay flat on her back, and he lay down beside her, holding himself up above her with his forearm, and wrapping his other arm around her waist. He stared down into her eyes, searching her face. She smiled. He moved his hand from her waist, up to gently stroke her cheek and trace her jawline. He looked at her again, searchingly. She began to softly run her hands up and down his back.

“I wish I had known you in high school, Scully,” he whispered.

She smiled, removing one hand from his back and bringing it to his face, gently brushing his cheek with the backs of her fingers, and down to his chin.

“And I wish you’d gone to college with me, and then Oxford. I wish you’d always been there, that we’d always been friends, even when we were kids. My life would’ve been so much better. Think of all the years we could’ve had together.”

She smiled at him sympathetically. “I don’t know, Mulder. Changing the past would change who we are as people right now. Timing is everything. Maybe we met at exactly the right moment; maybe certain things had to happen, were supposed to happen, in order for us to be lying here together. And if any one of those things hadn’t happened, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Mulder thought about what she said. “Hmm… like fate?”

She chuckled. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

They both felt that something was different tonight; that they’d reached a new understanding about this thing between them. Scully wasn’t sure why, maybe it was coming to terms with Daniel, maybe it was the idea of fate and destiny and all roads taken in her life leading her to Mulder. But she knew that this was where she was meant to be and this is where she would no doubt stay for the rest of her life.

Mulder realized what could no longer be ignored: this thing between them, which had no definition and couldn’t be compared to any other kind of relationship. Scully wasn’t just his FBI partner, wasn’t just his dearest friend, she was so much more than that. But words like 'girlfriend,' 'wife,' and 'lover' all seemed trite to him, and too common for her, and used up far too much by shitty romantic comedies and limp, flowery greeting cards. She was Scully, and no fluffy term of endearment or relationship label could replace or enhance the power behind that name. He could now finally define it, this thing between them. Mulder was in love. It wasn’t the obsessively destructive love he'd had for Phoebe; it wasn’t the blind love he had felt for Diana. It wasn’t flowery mush. It was strong and true and courageous and battle-tested. It was real love.

And then his lips were on hers, at first softly, and he held her tightly to him. She sighed into his mouth, her hand moving to the inside of Mulder’s shirt, resuming its lazy movements up and down the skin of his back. Scully then slowly licked his bottom lip, and he groaned into her mouth, his tongue finding hers. Their kissing intensified, and their breathing quickened, but they were in no hurry, and they slowly lost track of time and space.

Mulder eventually pushed the hem of her green sweater up to her bra, gently brushing the soft skin of her abdomen with the tips of his fingers. He bent his leg, and slid it up between hers to meet her center, until her black skirt was pushed up to her hips, and they were entangled. Scully could feel his growing erection prodding her hip, and she squirmed against his thigh.

Mulder’s hand pushed her shirt up her chest past her black lace bra, and his deft fingers, upon happily finding this one had a front clasp, unhooked it and pushed the one cup aside. He stuck his tongue deeper in her mouth as his hand went to her breast, gently squeezing the weight of it with his palm and rolling her hardening nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Scully’s head was swimming, and she felt as if her blood was on fire. Mulder’s mouth left her swollen lips, and traveled behind her ear, his tongue finding that spot of soft flesh just behind her earlobe. Scully gasped, as the ministrations of his tongue and his hand sent electric jolts across her now aching clit.

They had been languidly wrapped together for over half an hour, kissing, caressing, and whispering about fate and destiny and all things leading them here to this moment. But Mulder was moving so slow, Scully felt like she was going to combust. She rocked against his firm thigh, struggling for some relief. Mulder’s mouth again returned to Scully’s lips, passionately devouring them. He could kiss her forever. Mulder thought there was nothing better, or more deeply satisfying, than kissing someone you are in love with.

Mulder grinned into her mouth before releasing her and pulling his leg back out from between hers. He then moved to her breast, sucking her taut, pink nipple into his mouth. Scully’s hands went to his hair. Each stroke of his tongue caused her clit to throb, and she started whimpering. Each whimper that filled his ears, and the sensation of her perfect breast that filled his mouth, sent more blood rushing to his hard cock. He opened his eyes to look at her face, his mouth still at her breast, before biting down on her hardened nipple. He watched her eyes slam shut and her mouth hang open, throwing her head back into the mattress, arching her back and rocking her hips.

Then before Scully knew what was happening, he had reached up underneath her skirt, and was pulling her pantyhose down and off her legs.

“Mulder! Wait,” she gasped, breathing hard. God, what had she been thinking? She’d spotted for a few days, but Saturday her regular flow had started and her cycle wasn’t over yet.

He removed his mouth from her breast, and looked up at her. “What?”

She averted her eyes. “Um… I got my period on Saturday morning, before you left for England.”

Mulder blinked at her. And then sighed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Scully was confused by Mulder’s sympathetic expression, and suppressed a laugh. “Um… no, Mulder. I already had that talk with my mother a long time ago."

He chuckled. “Funny. I meant do you want to talk about the fact that you’re not pregnant?”

Scully sighed thoughtfully, and then shrugged. “Not really. I don’t think I want to try IVF again. Maybe it’s just not meant to be, Mulder.”

“What did that Buddhist temple do to you, Scully?” he said, giving her an amused look.

She rolled her eyes, trying not to smile.

Mulder’s mouth was on hers again, kissing her passionately. She wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him to her and instinctively spreading her legs so he could settle between them. They were both burning, her clit aching with need and his hard cock straining painfully. Then he abruptly pulled away from her.

“Scully, we’re gonna have to stop,” he panted. “I can’t take much more of this.”

She glanced down at the thick bulge protruding inside his jeans. She felt like she had never been more aroused in her life, like her skin could burst into flames, and she sat up to reach her hand down between them. “I can help you with that,” she purred.

Mulder pushed her hand away, and sat back on his knees. “No, Scully. I’m not gonna get off if you can’t.”

She pursed her lips. “Mulder, come on. I really want to. And it’s at least something we can do.”

He shook his head. “No. I’d feel bad.”

Scully groaned in frustration, lying back down on the bed and closing her eyes.

Mulder snorted. “Scully, is there any particular reason why you can’t have sex on your period?”

She opened her eyes and stared at him. “What… what do you mean?”

“Well… would it hurt you?” Mulder asked.

Scully hesitated, swallowing. “No…”

“Have you ever done it before?”

She scrunched her face up in a disgusted way and shook her head. Mulder thought about this, and felt himself become even more aroused. She had never allowed a man to do this. Not even that Daniel guy. Mulder suddenly wanted to, and badly.

“Scully, the idea doesn’t turn me off, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She saw his eyes grow darker, and she averted her own. “No, Mulder, that’s not it.”

“Then why not?”

Scully sighed. “It’s just… gross, Mulder. It’s… it’s embarrassing.”

He stared at her, dumbfounded. He never once thought that Scully, of all people, would be insecure about herself, about her body. He had never known this side to Scully. He didn’t want there to be anymore parts of her that were closed off to him, he wanted to know everything. He then wondered why this happened to girls when they go through puberty, why the embarrassment and maybe even shame experienced by their young, fragile minds over their changing bodies carried all the way to adulthood. Mulder wanted to fuck the insecurity right out of her.

“It’s just blood, Scully. And you perform autopsies, for chrissakes. You’re not squeamish.”

She couldn’t look at him. “It’s… just… it’s just so private, Mulder.”

He stared at her intensely until she looked up and met his eyes. “Exactly.”

Scully sighed. “But it’ll make a huge mess.”

“We’ll use a towel.”

“But your sheets…” She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation.

“I’ve got clean ones in the bathroom closet.”

Scully knitted her brows, sitting up and pulling her sweater down over her breasts, and stared at her hands in her lap.

Mulder sighed. “Okay, okay. So do you just wanna make out for a while before we go to sleep?”

Not really. She wanted to come. She felt like she was going crazy. “That’s fine.”

He lay back down next to her, meeting her lips with his. But after a few seconds, she was holding him tight and rocking her hips against him, trying to relieve the maddening throb of her clit. Mulder’s swollen and painful cock was making his head spin.

He pulled away, panting. “Jesus Christ, Scully. Why can’t we just fuck? Please. We need to fuck. It’s been too long.”

Scully was having an inner battle with the small voice inside her head that was telling her that her body was dirty. _Fucking Catholic school_ , she thought. But it was just Mulder, and there was really nothing to be afraid of.

She sighed. Mulder leaned back as Scully pushed herself out from underneath him and off the bed. Mulder fell back face first into the mattress and groaned in frustration. _Goddammit._

After closing the bathroom door behind her, she removed her green sweater, folding it and setting it on the sink. She took off her skirt and slip, and then her underwear and bra, setting them on top of her shirt in a neat pile. She reached inside the cabinet for the travel-sized toiletry bag she kept under Mulder’s sink. And it dawned on her that she’d never put a tampon in there. She’d completely forgotten to do that. _Oh, no. You’ve got to be kidding me._ Upon opening it, she found the pair of lavender cotton panties she’d left on Mulder’s bedroom floor weeks ago. They were clean. He must’ve washed it with his laundry. She smiled to herself. As she lifted up the clean pair of underwear, she saw that underneath was a brand new 10-count box of Tampax tampons. Mulder must’ve bought them and put them there for her. Scully just shook her head in disbelief. She returned the bag under the sink, and sat on the toilet, removing her tampon and emptying her bladder.

Scully grabbed a large, oversized dark blue bath towel from the closet, and wrapped it around herself. When she walked out of the bathroom, she saw that Mulder had turned down the comforter along with the top sheet. He was sitting naked on the bed with his hard cock straining for her, having gotten fully undressed while she was out of the room. She didn’t think she’d ever seen his cock so engorged. He gazed at her. She bit her bottom lip, and walked to the side of the bed. She then wondered why he hadn’t turned out the lights. She started to feel self-conscious, but he must’ve read the look on her face because now he was pursing his lips and shaking his head at her.

Mulder slid over, and Scully got up next to him, laying the towel across the middle of the bed. She lay down on her back, making sure there was plenty towel around her hips in any direction. As he moved over her, she saw raw desire blazing in his eyes that seemed almost as black as onyx. She’d never seen them so dark. Her stomach filled with butterflies. She couldn’t believe she was doing this.

“We can’t move around,” she said, as if giving him a warning. “We have to stay just like this.”

Mulder settled between her legs. “That’s fine, Scully. I don’t care.”

He leaned down, holding himself up with his forearms, and her arms went around his back. They both groaned as their enflamed skin pressed together, Mulder’s firm chest gently pushing against Scully’s soft breasts, heavy and full with arousal. Then Mulder was kissing her, devouring her, sinking his tongue inside her mouth to caress hers. She moaned into his mouth, fervently returning his kisses. Her legs instinctively rose up and she locked her ankles around his waist. Mulder groaned at the action. Scully then reached between them with her right hand, stroking him, and then guided his hard cock to her entrance.

“Oh, my God,” Mulder groaned as he slid his throbbing cock slowly inside her all the way to the hilt in one easy, smooth motion. The dripping wet walls of her cunt greeted him with their heat, her muscles tightening around him. He didn’t think this had ever felt so good, as it did tonight. Scully whimpered as he entered her; she felt every inch of him inside her, filling her up completely, her highly sensitive walls contracting around his thick length.

Mulder leaned down to kiss her as he started thrusting, his engorged head stroking that sensitive spot embedded in her front wall while his thick shaft performed a rhythmic friction against her wet, swollen folds, his pubic bone rubbing against her throbbing clit with every thrust. She thought she had never felt anything so exquisite, that this was the best it had ever been between them.

Scully looked down to their joined center to see Mulder’s thrusting cock darkened with her blood. And she realized that Mulder was her family. It would’ve been wonderful to be a mother, to have a child of her own. But she was happy with Mulder. She had a life with someone who needed her, with someone who loved her. It was an unconventional life but she knew that as long as Mulder was in it, it would be a happy one. And Mulder loved her unconditionally; there was no doubt in her mind now.

She kissed and suckled his neck, and up his jaw to his mouth, before whispering “Mulder, I want to be on top.”

Mulder looked at her in surprise. He thought they couldn’t move from this spot. But her eyes showed him confidence, and the insecurity was gone.

“You got it,” he said enthusiastically.

Mulder slid his arms underneath her back, picking her up off the mattress, and they flipped over, somehow managing to stay on top of the towel. Scully sat upright, straddling his pelvis and centering herself, and then impaled herself on him. His hard, engorged cock was buried so deep within her that she thought she could feel him lightly brushing against her cervix. She bent over slightly, planting her hands on his chest, and started to grind against him.

“Oohh, Mulder…” Scully moaned, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

Hearing his name on Scully’s lips as pleasure gripped her facial features elicited a groan from Mulder’s throat, as he grabbed her hips and gently guided her movements above him. He didn’t jerk her hips up and down or thrust to join her. He wanted Scully to be in control, he wanted to watch her use his cock to get off.

Mulder reached up to fondle her soft, perfectly round breasts and roll her taut, pink nipples between his fingers. Scully moaned in response, grinding faster against him. Mulder then reached his right hand down to where they joined. She momentarily worried that his fingers would get dirty, but Scully watched them quickly move to her center to find her engorged bundle of nerves, and her worries vanished. Mulder started to rub, flick, and pinch her throbbing clit. She could feel new waves of moisture pour out of her center, her natural lubricant and her blood pooling over their joined bodies. They were making a huge mess, but she didn’t care.

“Oohh… God, Mulder… you feel so good,” Scully whimpered. She started panting. She could feel that delicious, indescribable tension building as she worked her hips over him.

And as Mulder watched her face, saw the pure elation written all over her features, her eyes open and meeting his, and not hiding from him behind a wall anymore like she used to, he realized that he already had his miracle. It was a miracle that Scully had survived cancer. It was a miracle Ritter’s bullet hadn’t killed her, because it should have. It was a miracle that he was given the vaccine to save her life, and that when he got to Antarctica, he’d actually found her in that enormous ship and got her out of there alive. It was a miracle that those evil bastards chose Scully in the first place, that she was the one they sent to spy on him, to keep him controlled. They’d sent him his savior instead, someone who filled his work with purpose and his life with meaning. Scully was his miracle, and maybe it’d been foolish to hope for another one because he’d had it all along.

She continued to stroke that sensitive spot inside her cunt up and down Mulder’s swollen cock as his fingers moved against her clit, until the tension was overwhelming and Scully was suddenly clenching her muscles around him, sensations of pure ecstasy flooding her brain. Her hands flew out and Mulder gripped them with his own, as she braced herself to ride out her orgasm. She was crying out his name and moaning, her hips grinding harder against him, her legs shaking, and fresh waves of her wetness poured out over their joined center. Scully finally collapsed on top of him, and Mulder held her trembling body to his chest while the intense pleasure was subsiding.

Scully was still slowly grinding her hips against him, drawing out the pleasure throbbing at her center, as she came down off her high, her body quivering with orgasmic aftershocks, whimpering into his ear, “Mulder, I love you… I love you… I love you.”

He held on to her tighter. Scully had never spoken those words out loud. Mulder knew that she loved him. He knew every day. The way she looked at him, the way she smiled to herself when she didn’t think he was watching, the way she’d ask him how he was feeling or if he was hungry or if he got enough sleep or any number of the other countless interactions throughout the day that all told Mulder she loved him. When she started buying the cinnamon and brown sugar Pop Tarts and kept them in her kitchen cabinet next to her boxes of tea, he knew that she loved him. When she sat on the couch and watched the World Series with him, without ever complaining, he knew she loved him. When she wore that stupid New Year’s Eve party hat, he knew she loved him. When she chose to listen to Harold Piller and go out with them to April Air Force Base, to participate in that séance, when she cried as he’d read Samantha’s diary, he knew that she loved him. Scully told him every day in small ways. Mulder could see the truth of it in her eyes, and that truth had become stronger each time they had lied down together and he’d search her face, looking for their connection and waiting for her heart to open to him. The more time went on, the less he’d had to search, the less he’d had to wait. But the actual words had never before ushered forth from her lips, until this moment.

Scully raised her head to look into Mulder’s self-satisfied expression, and smiled. She hadn’t planned on saying the words but now that she did, she couldn’t think of her reasons not to say them.

Mulder was still rock hard inside her, and as his need became unbearable, he planted his feet on the mattress and started to thrust his hips upwards, at first slowly pushing his cock inside and then slowly pulling almost all of the way out of her dripping wet heat before slowly entering her again, closing his eyes and allowing the sensations to overwhelm him.

Scully’s mind focused on the feel of Mulder’s cock stretching her inner walls, filling her up. He was so big, and hard, and thick. His cock was so perfect, like her missing puzzle piece. He belonged inside her. This was where he was supposed to be. She never wanted this feeling to go away, and she sighed into his ear, “Oohh… Mulder."

And then Mulder gripped her back, holding her even tighter to him, jamming his cock inside her to find relief for his aching need and the building tension, frantically thrusting to reach ecstasy. She was so small inside, and Mulder thought that she gripped his cock with her muscles as though she was desperate to keep him there. The women he’d been with before had all been a lot bigger than Scully, taller and broader, but this petite being on top of him had a strength he’d never experienced before.

As Scully’s face was pressed against his neck, her fingers running through his hair, Mulder soon started talking to her in that rapid, wildly explicit way that signaled to her he was about to come.

“Aahh, Scully, fuck… Your cunt… So fucking tight… Aahh and so fucking wet… So fucking good, Scully… Aahh… You make my cock feel so good… Aahh Scully… I love your cunt… There’s nothing better than fucking your delicious cunt… Your sweet, tight cunt… Aahhh… Fuck, Scully!”

These words sent an overwhelming electric current to her once-again throbbing clit, which sent Scully moaning into Mulder’s ear and she was coming hard a second time, grinding her clit against him, her hands gripping his hair. Mulder’s body tensed at this and his moans became louder, he was crying out as an intense orgasm overtook him, waves of pleasure rushing out across his groin as he thrust harder, and Scully felt his hot seed flood onto her cervix.

They both lied there together, Scully on top of Mulder’s chest with her face pressed into his neck, still joined at their center, panting and quivering. She felt exhausted, utterly depleted, as if her arms and legs felt like heavy jello. After a few minutes, Mulder sat up so that Scully was sitting on his lap. He grabbed the towel at both ends and wrapped it around their hips, then turning to throw his legs off the side of the bed.

“Hold on to me, Scully.”

She locked her arms around his neck and as Mulder stood up, she locked her legs around his waist. He held her with both arms, one hand gripping the towel around them. Mulder walked them to the bathroom, tossing the towel into the laundry basket, and setting Scully down in the shower.

“I don’t want to get my hair wet, Mulder.”

He pulled the handheld showerhead nozzle down and turned on the hot water, making sure it was a comfortable temperature. He then started to spray their lower bodies clean of their mixed body fluids. Scully didn’t feel the slightest bit embarrassed that her blood was all over Mulder’s pelvis. She watched as he worked the nozzle over them, and not once did he stop smiling at her.

When they were clean, Mulder stepped out the shower, saying “You wait here a moment.” He closed the shower curtain behind him. Scully heard him flip the toilet seat up and empty his bladder, then flush, and put the seat back down. Scully smiled, biting her bottom lip. She listened as he opened the closet, and then left the bathroom. Scully stepped out of the shower, and grabbed a clean towel from the closet to dry off with. She sat on the toilet and reached down to grab her bag from under the sink, Scully’s heart swelling over Mulder’s thoughtfulness as she pulled out a tampon and her clean pair of underwear.

When Scully left the bathroom, Mulder walked in behind her, wearing a pair of heather gray boxer briefs, to drop something into the laundry basket. Scully turned her attention to the bed and saw that Mulder had re-made it with a fresh set of blue sheets. She smiled to herself, and got into bed. He walked over to the wall and flipped the light switch, immediately darkening the room except for the red light of the bedside clock that told them the time was 11:21 pm.

Mulder climbed into his side of the bed to lie next to Scully and wrapped his arms around her, bringing his leg up to settle between hers, and held her close to him. He gazed into her eyes, bringing his hand up to her face and brushing her cheek, tracing her jawline. At one time in his life, Mulder had believed that Phoebe Green had crushed his heart beyond repair and stolen his soul. This was, of course, not true. Because he was now giving Scully the complete access to his heart he’d once been too scared to, and he was now giving her his soul. There was no more holding back.

“Scully…," Mulder whispered, gazing at her. "I love you, too."

A smile slowly spread over her face. In that moment, Scully finally let go; she let go of the fear: the fear of losing him, the fear of his death, and fear of the pain that waited for her in some unknown future. The walls around her heart came down, allowed Mulder to enter completely, and then rose up behind him, locking him inside forever. For the rest of her life there would be no one else for her, only Mulder.

As they lay next to each other drifting to sleep, her body curled up against his left side, Scully felt like she’d never been more contented in her life. It wasn’t the life she’d pictured for herself when she was younger. There wasn’t a typical husband, like Daniel would have been, there wasn’t a big house in the suburbs, there wasn’t a successful medical career, and there weren’t any children. But maybe that’s just not the life she was fated to have. As she watched Mulder succumb to sleep, she knew in her heart, and in her soul, that this was her destiny, and it had been all along. Within seconds, Scully happily followed Mulder into the peaceful dreamland of unconsciousness.


	69. “Birds do it, bees do it. Even educated MD's do it.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully gives a final goodbye to Daniel. Mulder sells the house in Quonochontaug, and visits the Lone Gunmen. Scully and Mulder spend an evening by the fire. They then get asked to work a case involving a female serial killer.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depeche Mode – “Higher Love”
> 
> I can taste more than feel  
> This burning inside is so real  
> I can almost lay my hands upon  
> The warm glow that lingers on
> 
> Moved, lifted higher  
> Moved, my soul's on fire  
> Moved, by a higher love
> 
> I surrender all control  
> To the desire that consumes me whole  
> And leads me by the hand to infinity  
> That lies in wait at the heart of me
> 
> Moved, lifted higher  
> Moved, my soul's on fire  
> Moved, by a higher love
> 
> Heaven bound on the wings of love  
> There's so much that you can rise above
> 
> Moved, lifted higher  
> Moved, moved  
> By a higher love  
> By a higher love
> 
> I surrender heart and soul  
> Sacrifice to a higher goal
> 
> Moved, moved  
> By a higher love  
> By a higher love

Scully found she was suddenly completely awake, curled up around Mulder’s side, her knee bent and her leg draped around his hips. The glowing red light of his bedside clock told her the time was 3:49 am. She then moved away and lay on her back, staring up at the pencils in Mulder’s bedroom ceiling. These were a new addition. She surmised that he’d found life at home alone just as mundane as life without her in the basement office. As she lay there, she started to worry that Daniel hadn’t accepted what she’d last said to him, that if he recovered from his illness he would start contacting her. She then started to move off the bed.

Mulder slowly opened his eyes. He could hear the sound of falling rain; hear the wind move through the tree branches outside his window. He turned his head to see Scully sliding over to get up off the bed. The room was still dark, and he turned to glance at the clock on his bedside table. It wasn’t even four o’clock yet.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” he asked groggily.

She turned back to look at him, her eyes widening slightly with surprise. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Um, yeah, I need to go. Today’s the 4th, remember? We have a meeting with Skinner at 8:00 am.”

He remembered. They had to have their own separate quarterly meeting with Skinner, unfortunately. Mulder had hoped to get out of it completely, but the Deputy Director wasn’t about to allow that. He sighed. “Why do you always leave so early? I wish you’d stay at least ‘til the sun comes up.”

She gave him a small smile, and then slid back over next to him. Mulder turned to lie on his side and he reached for her, pulling her as close to him as he could. He brought his right hand up to her face, softly running it down her neck, over her collarbone, down her side, before moving to caress the soft skin of her back and then settling on her panty-covered ass, giving her a slight squeeze.

Scully grinned at him, running her fingers through the patch of curls on his chest. “I know it’s early, but I have to go home. I want to stop by Washington National before work.”

Mulder stared at her. “Why?”

“Because I want to see how Daniel is doing.”

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “Why?”

She gave him a slight disbelieving look. “I want to make sure he’s doing okay. And… I need to know that he understands my decision concerning him is final. That once he’s well enough to leave the hospital he’s not going to try to make any attempts to… convince me to change my mind.”

Mulder nodded, pausing hesitantly. “Could... you be convinced, if he tried?”

Scully gazed at him intensely. “No.”

He smiled, nodding, and felt his eyelids becoming heavy. He still felt so sleepy, like he could barely keep his eyes open any longer. She leaned over and kissed him by his mouth, before turning away and slipping out of bed. She then entered the bathroom, making sure to close the door behind her before turning on the light. After pulling her toiletry bag out from under the sink, she performed her morning routine as quietly as possible, pleased that her menstrual period seemed to be over now.

Once she was dressed, Scully walked back out to the bedroom to see that Mulder had fallen back asleep. She again thought about fate and destiny, and the events of her life that had led her here. She felt confident that her fate was in her own hands, that she’d found her destiny by making the right choices in the moments that truly mattered. After putting on her black suit jacket, she then walked out of the darkened bedroom to slip on her shoes in the foyer, before leaving the apartment and driving home to Georgetown.

After she arrived home, showered, dressed in her navy blue skirt suit, and had a small breakfast of green tea and grapefruit, she drove over to Washington National Hospital, arriving at just past 7:30 am. She spoke with Dr. Kopeikan, and learned that Daniel’s condition had improved greatly. She then entered Daniel’s room, and found him awake and sitting up in bed.

“I see Hurricane Scully has returned,” Daniel quipped.

She pursed her lips, nodding. “Your doctor said you’re doing very well, and that you’ll probably get to go home tomorrow. That’s great news.”

“Go home to what?” he replied. “Nothing matters unless that home is with you.”

She sighed, and felt annoyance flood her stomach. “That’s never going to happen, Daniel. And you honestly can’t say that’s what you truly want. Otherwise, you would’ve attempted to contact me years ago. What was the point in you moving to Washington, supposedly for me, and then never trying to see me? Or call me?”

Daniel looked away from her, sighing. “I wasn’t in a good place. I was going through a difficult time. And then after what happened to Barbara… I knew how you’d react to that.”

Scully nodded.

“Dana, if I… if I had contacted you sooner,” Daniel said, looking back at her. “Would we have had another chance?”

She thought about that, thought about the events that shaped her life since she graduated medical school and left him. “I don’t know. I think that all depends on when you contacted me, whether it was before or after I met my partner.”

Daniel stared at her. “You have a _partner_?” he asked bitterly. “Don’t tell me you’ve become a lesbian.”

“His name is Fox Mulder,” Scully replied, arching her eyebrow.

He swallowed. “What a name. And how long have you been with this _Fox Mulder?”_

“Seven years.”

His eyes widened. “Does he make you happy?” Daniel asked, his voice just above a whisper.

Scully nodded. “Yes.”

He sighed.

“Have you thought of going back to Johns Hopkins?” she asked. “Once you’re well enough?”

“I don’t see how I can ever show my face in Baltimore again. Not after what happened with Barbara.”

She sighed. “But that’s where Maggie lives. It would do you both some good to spend more time together, to make up for lost time. And I’m sure Johns Hopkins wouldn’t think twice about taking you back on board.”

He nodded, and folded his hands on top of the sheet.

She could see his eyes growing wet, and thought it was time for her to leave. “Goodbye, Daniel. And good luck… with everything.”

At that Scully walked out of Daniel Waterston’s hospital room, out of the hospital, and out to her car in the parking lot, driving away from the last remaining vestige of her former life.

*****

On Wednesday night, April 5th, Mulder and Scully were sitting up side by side in his bedroom. He was watching the 11:00 local news on the television while she read Daphne du Maurier’s _My Cousin Rachel_. A segment on the news broadcast had a brief mention of a fourth working girl having gone missing from Dirty Dames strip club in southeast D.C., and an unsuccessful police raid on the place.

Mulder looked over at Scully, clad in his Georgetown t-shirt and wearing her reading glasses, and suddenly remembered the phone call he’d gotten from his mother’s real estate agent earlier that day. “I forgot to tell you something.”

She looked up from her book. “Oh?”

“The house in Quonochontaug sold.”

“That’s great!” Scully replied, smiling.

He nodded. “Yeah, it sold three weeks ago. This Friday is closing day, so I’m gonna have to drive up to Rhode Island after work tomorrow and stay the night up there. You don’t mind handling the office on your own?”

She smiled, shaking her head. “Nope. How long will you be away?”

“Oh, I’ll be back sometime on Friday,” Mulder replied. “I’m not sticking around.”

She nodded, and returned to her book. At just past 11:30, when the local news went off and late-night programming began to start, he shut off the television and lay down to sleep but found that difficult with her still reading next to him. He opened his eyes and looked at her.

“Scully.”

“I just want to finish the chapter,” she replied, not looking up from the book.

Mulder sighed. “How long is that gonna take? I can’t sleep with a light on. You know the room has to be as dark as my soul.”

Scully laughed, and rolled her eyes. “I only have a couple more pages.”

“Oh, there’s something else I haven’t told you,” said Mulder.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

He paused, watching her face, which was still glued to her book. “I think Skinner has a crush on you.”

Scully slowly turned her head to look at him, her brows knitted in confusion. “On what do you base that?”

“My eyes,” Mulder replied dryly. “I caught him staring at your ass again after that meeting in his office on Tuesday. He’s had it bad for years.”

“Please,” she scoffed. “You’re imagining things.”

He eyed her as she returned to her book. “Have you ever had a crush on him?”

Scully let out a breathy laugh. “Of course not. Don't be ridiculous.”

“Why not?” Mulder asked defensively. “He’s your type. Older authority figure.”

She turned and arched an eyebrow at him, but didn’t say anything.

“So… Skinner’s never tried anything with you?” asked Mulder, trying to keep his tone casual.

Scully shot him an incredulous look. “How can you ask that? Of course he’s never tried anything. He's never made inappropriate comments. He’s never touched me. He’s… Wait. Oh, well…”

Mulder went wide-eyed.

“I did kiss him once,” Scully said, biting her bottom lip and grinning nervously at Mulder.

“What?! When was this?” He stared up at her in shocked disbelief.

She cleared her throat. “When you ditched me and ran off to the Bermuda Triangle. Skinner got his hands on the information to help me find you, and I… uh, expressed my gratitude.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mulder replied, scrunching up his face. “You kissed Walter Skinner? On the mouth?”

“Mm-hmm,” responded Scully, resolutely staring at her book.

Mulder grumbled.

“Serves you right for ditching me,” she quipped, giving him the side-eye.

“Well, I am never ditching you again,” said Mulder. “Skinner might make a move.”

Scully chuckled. “You better not.”

After another 10 minutes, when Scully finished her chapter, she inserted her bookmark and set _My Cousin Rachel_ down on her side table, before turning off the lamp, darkening the bedroom. She slid over and pressed her body to Mulder’s side, slipping her hand over his black t-shirt covered waist, and looked up into his face.

“You’re not threatened by Skinner, are you?” Scully whispered teasingly.

He shot her a phony dirty look. “Not unless you give me a reason to be.”

She chuckled, and laid her head down on his chest. “Are you happy, Mulder?”

“Yes, I’m happy, Scully.”

“Me too,” she sighed.

Less than 15 minutes later, they were both sound asleep. In the morning, just before the cold gray light of the rising sun made its way into the bedroom, Scully awoke and felt no need to run out the door before the break of dawn. Instead, she laid awake watching Mulder sleep until he opened his eyes to the sound of the 6:00 am alarm. They then ate breakfast together while they sat at his dining table, before Scully headed home to get ready for work.

After they left work later that day, Mulder drove Scully home to Georgetown where they stopped at their favorite neighborhood Indian restaurant for dinner. Just before 6:30 pm, Mulder pulled up his car alongside the curb in front of Scully’s apartment building.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” she replied. “I hope you don’t have any problems with the closing.”

Mulder nodded. “The fact the guy’s paying with all cash sure saves me from some potential headaches. But of course I had to run a background check on the guy.”

Scully shot him an eyebrow. “You ran a background check on the man buying your parents’ house?”

“Any cash payment over $10,000 has to be reported to the authorities,” Mulder explained. “How would it look if I sold the summerhouse for cash that originated from illegal activities?”

“So you were able to reassure yourself that no one could accuse you of being the next John Connolly Jr?” she smirked.

He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “That fuckin’ guy. Anyways, the buyer’s background check came back clean. So I feel a lot better knowing I’m not selling the house to an Irish mobster. Now all I gotta do is sign the papers and hand over the keys.”

“So, then I’ll see you sometime tomorrow?” Scully asked. “Or maybe Saturday?”

“I don’t wanna wait ‘til Saturday,” replied Mulder, gazing at her. “I should be back tomorrow evening.”

She smiled. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

Scully then opened her car door and turned to get out, placing her foot on the curb. Mulder quickly got out and walked around the car to her side, holding the door open as she stood and stepped up onto the sidewalk. Mulder closed the door behind her and then leaned back against the car, standing on the pavement below the curb and gazing at Scully. She stepped a little closer to him, sliding her hands inside his black trench coat, past his charcoal gray suit jacket, and around his waist. Scully hugged him tight as she leaned her body into his, looking up at him.

“You want to stay at my place this weekend?” Scully asked.

Mulder grinned. “Yeah.”

“It’s supposed to get really cold starting tomorrow afternoon, and it’s gonna drop into the 30’s at night. I was thinking we could make a fire.”

He thought of Scully’s living room fireplace, sitting in front of it with her, her soft and bare ivory skin illuminated by firelight. They hadn’t had sex since the night he’d returned from England, and not once had they ever made use of her fireplace while together. Both of these things made him impatient for the next 24 hours to fly by quickly. He nodded his agreement to her plan and bent his head down to capture her lips with his. God, he loved kissing Scully. The heat of his desire and the deep emotions he felt for her burned through his veins like lava.

Finally, she broke their passionate kiss to breathe. “Goodnight, Mulder,” she whispered, gazing at him.

He smiled moonily down at her. “Goodnight, Scully.”

Mulder stood there, leaning against his car, watching her walk away and into her apartment building. He then hopped back into the car and took the six hour drive to Quonochontaug. It was after 12:30 am when he arrived, unlocking the front door, and wandered around the house, giving it a once over, making sure everything was in order. He then crashed on the living room couch, going to sleep soon after.

At 11:00 am on Friday morning, April 7th, Mulder drove to the real estate agent’s office in Westerly for the closing. Before leaving the house, he made sure he had the deed and the keys as well as the instruction books for the heating and plumbing systems and for the appliances that were staying with the house. Upon arriving at the office, the closing process took just under an hour. After all the documents were signed and transferred, escrow fees and real estate commissions paid, Mulder received his cash payment and departed Rhode Island for D.C.

Over six hours later, at 6:42 pm, he was standing outside the Lone Gunmen’s office.

“Mulder!” greeted Frohike upon opening the door. “¿Que pasa? You here to borrow _Sex Trek: The Next Penetration_?”

“I’ve seen it,” he replied dryly. “Once was enough.”

“I never did thank you properly for my Christmas present,” Frohike said as he stepped aside to let Mulder enter the office. Langly and Byers then appeared directly as the door closed behind him.

“What’s up, G-Man?” asked Langly, his long and wavy blond hair falling past his shoulders, clad in his Ramones t-shirt.

“I sold my parents’ summerhouse in Quonochontaug,” replied Mulder, holding up a small white canvas money bag.

Byers reached for the bag, and Mulder relinquished it. “For the black box?”

Mulder nodded. “Yeah.”

“How much is in the bag?” Byers asked.

“$845,000,” answered Mulder.

Frohike walked over towards them. “A lot less than your father’s house.”

He shrugged. “Houses on the vineyard go for a lot more.” Mulder then sat down on the old sofa. “So what have you guys been up to lately?”

Byers walked away with the money bag and disappeared behind a door. Langly sat down in the chair opposite the couch. “Just working on the newsletter. Bill Gates is in for it. He's not gonna know what hit him. Oh, have you heard about that female serial killer here in D.C.?”

Mulder’s eyes widened. “A female serial killer?”

Frohike nodded. “Apparently it’s a woman who’s been kidnapping those prostitutes from Dirty Dames. They got her on camera, but Metro PD hasn’t been able to find her.”

“And a sixth girl has gone missing down there,” Langly added.

“Huh,” Mulder responded. Female serial killers were certainly rare.

Byers then reentered the office. “So how’s the enigmatic Agent Scully?”

Mulder gave Byers a small smile. “She’s good.”

The Gunmen exchanged looks. “So… you two patch things up?” Frohike asked.

“Yep,” Mulder replied, nodding. "I actually stopped by on my way to see her."

“Why are you smiling?” asked Langly. Byers and Frohike smirked.

Mulder stared at them, swallowing. “I’m not… I’m not smiling.”

The Gunmen exchanged amused looks. Mulder thought that now was a good time to leave.

*****

Late on Friday afternoon, April 7th, Scully drove quickly home from work to get ready for the evening, after making a couple brief stops at the supermarket and the liquor store. Once she put the bottle of Chianti in the refrigerator, she started preparing the vodka sauce and after leaving it on the stove to simmer on low heat, she showered and then dressed in a pair of black slacks and her dark purple long-sleeved cashmere sweater. Once she left her bedroom she walked into the living room and started a fire, returned to the kitchen and set a pot of water on the stove to boil, before walking back to the bathroom to blow dry her hair.

At 7:15 pm, there was a loud knock and she smiled to herself as she walked towards the door. She opened it to see Mulder standing there in dark blue jeans and a black sweater underneath his leather jacket. Scully felt pleasant butterflies fill her stomach, and she smiled.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” He smiled and ran his eyes over her, from her radiant smile down to the pants perfectly hugging her figure. He thought there seemed something different about her, that she was glowing. Maybe she was just happy. He'd certainly never seen her so happy in all the years he'd known her.

Scully then stepped aside to let him enter her apartment and after he hung his jacket up on the coat rack, Mulder followed her into the kitchen. Once the penne had cooked, she drained the boiling water in the sink and then added the pasta to the simmering vodka sauce. He grabbed the wine bottle from the fridge and some glasses, setting them on the dining table. Soon after they sat down together and feasted on the hot meal. He told her about the house sale and she talked about the new monograph on the frequency of morphological characteristics used for identification she was writing up for the _Forensic Sciences Journal_ for their upcoming June issue. They then discussed the reported D.C. female serial killer that was currently all over the news, getting into a debate over trends and perpetrators of prostitution-related homicide, and the primary motivations behind serial sexual homicide, whether it’s more about sex, power, control, or anger.

After they finished their meal, they moved to the living room and sat on the couch, facing the fireplace. Other than the accent lighting above the countertops that remained on in the kitchen, the crackling fire was the only light source for the darkened apartment. Mulder and Scully sat close together on the couch in comfortable silence, sipping from their wine glasses and enjoying the warmth of the fire.

She sat her empty glass down on the coffee table, and sighed contentedly. He took one last swig, and set his glass down to join hers. The fire started to die down, so she got up to add a couple more pieces of wood, before returning to the couch. She bent her legs underneath her as she leaned into him.

“Isn’t this nice?” she asked, turning her body towards him and grinning. “It is really you, right? And not Eddie Van Blundht attempting to have his way with me again?”

Mulder shook his head, rolling his eyes. He then smiled and nodded, gazing at her. The firelight bathed Scully's face in a warm, golden glow. Her eyes seemed as blue as the sky. But she had looked radiant all night, with a glow that seemed to come from somewhere deep within her. He’d seen it when she opened her apartment door, saw it in the wide smile she’d given him, and he’d seen it all through dinner. It made his heart swell with emotion. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, before bringing his hand up behind her to sink into her hair. His other hand lightly stroked her back. She gazed at him, inching closer. His skin was so much darker than hers, almost a golden bronze, like coffee to her cream. He was beautiful to look at. He slowly dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her softly. Heat spread through her, sweet and thick like warm honey, and a completely separate feeling from the warmth of the fire. He broke their kiss to move his lips to the side of her neck, his arms tightening around her. Scully’s nearness, her sweet scent, the taste of her skin, turned his blood into flames. Her hands grasped his shoulders, before letting them slowly slide down his arms, across his chest. She could feel his heart pounding, and she could feel him trembling just as she was trembling.

“Do you want to go to the bedroom?” she whispered.

He lifted his head from her neck to look at her, turned to glance at the fireplace, and then met her eyes again. “No. Let’s stay out here.”

Scully smiled, and then her lips sought his, passionately kissing him, and they stayed that way on the couch for some time.

A little while later, the large navy blue wool blanket was taken from the back of the couch and spread out on the floor in front of the fire. He watched her bare skin glow as she laid sprawled across the blanket covering the floor. The flames flickered across her curves, darkening her shadows and highlighting her perfect roundness. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Tender desire flowed through his veins, and he needed to touch her, to feel her skin under his hands.

Mulder leaned down, his lips opening against hers. Scully opened to him, and he slid his tongue into the warm softness of her mouth and caressed hers. She moaned into him, wanting more. He trailed kisses down her neck, her collarbone, to the swell of her breasts, tasting her skin. His hands caressed her firm arms, sides, the skin of her belly and hips, before moving to fondle her soft breasts. They felt heavy and full, and he reveled in the feel of her nipples as they hardened into taut, pink nubs while his thumbs grazed over them.

She closed her eyes, bathing in the warmth of the fire, hot desire pooling at her center at the feel of his mouth on her breasts. Her back arched and she moaned in pleasure as he took her nipple in his lips and sucked hard. His hand then moved from her thigh to her wet center, stroking her clit as it tightened and throbbed. She was whimpering as his mouth left her breasts and moved down her abdomen, across her pelvis, through her small patch of trimmed auburn curls. Her hands were then entwined in the brown hair covering the head between her legs. Her back arched off the wool blanket, pushing her hips tight against Mulder’s tongue as he licked, nibbled, and sucked her aching clit.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered.

He wasn’t about to, but he paused and looked up at her. “Tell me how it feels.”

She sighed as his mouth returned to her slit, his tongue dipping in and out of her entrance before moving to circle her clit. “It feels... good. I... I can’t begin to explain what it feels like. Ohh... I want to make you feel like this.”

He groaned against her center. Scully opened her eyes and looked down to see his hand grasped around his cock, stroking himself. “Mulder, lie on your back.”

He looked up at her, and smirked. “But I’m not done here.”

Scully chuckled. “I know. Just lie on your back.”

Mulder moved over to lay on his back on top of the wool blanket, and while he was still wondering what she had in mind, she suddenly was straddling his chest backwards and lowering herself until all he could see was her perfect ass and her swollen, glistening wet folds. He started breathing heavier, and licked his lips in anticipation.

“Fuck, Scully.”

And then one hand was cupping his balls, squeezing gently, while her other hand grasped the thick base of his hard cock, and her tongue licked the length of him. He groaned, and then his hands moved to her hips, pulling her down against his mouth. His tongue entered her cunt, stroking the soft flesh inside, as she took him wholly in her mouth, swallowing him; they both moaned. Her mouth was around him, up and down, her tongue sometimes lingering over the sensitive flesh of his engorged head, and then surrounding him with her wet heat until he could feel the back of her throat. Mulder found it difficult to decide which was more pleasurable, Scully’s mouth around him or her wet cunt in his face. His tongue stroked her inner walls slowly, and then faster until she was rocking back against him seeking more friction, her moans vibrating around his cock. The moans became louder when he slid two fingers down her slit, pressing hard against her clit. She felt the coiling tension inside her tighten, and her mouth finally let go of him. He hissed at the abrupt loss of heat around his cock, but then her hand replaced her mouth, gripping him tightly and stroking him as her hips rocked against his face.

Scully soon started whimpering. “Mulder… Mulder… Mulder.”

He reached for her to pull her into a more upright sitting position as his lips enclosed around her engorged clit, and he sucked hard. She slammed into his face, her moans turning into loud cries. He could barely breathe, but he loved her sounds and the feel of her walls pulsating vigorously as he lapped up the delicious taste of her orgasm. He groaned, hoping she’d know just how good she felt against his mouth. Scully collapsed, laying her face against his thigh, her body still quivering while he gently licked her clean. She was still grasping his cock, and soon his aching need was unbearable. He thrust into her hand, desperate and demanding. Her mouth was then around him again, soft and hot and wet. Mulder let out a sigh in satisfaction at the relief, electric currents shooting across his groin out along his spine and to his brain, before returning as a rush of blood to his swollen cock, burning with pleasure.

“Jesus, Scully. This is so fucking good.”

She moaned around him, and his eyes rolled. His sighs and groans of satisfaction quickly turned into cursing and load moans as the sensations caused by her lips, tongue, teeth, and hands caused the tension in his taut balls to burst, and then he was coming hard in her mouth and he could feel her throat swallowing his release. Scully licked him clean, gently stroking his erection as it softened, making sure to avoid the sensitive head, as Mulder closed his eyes and ran his hands over her ass, thighs, and lower back. They lay together on the navy blue wool blanket by the fireplace for some time afterwards, kissing and whispering, hands languidly caressing, warmed by the fire. After a while, the fire started to die down and they made their way to bed.

*****

_He was walking down the beach, breathing in the salty air and enjoying the feel of the hot sun warming his skin. He was in no hurry, felt no need to be somewhere, to go somewhere. To his right he could see grass and trees thick with greenery, to his left he could see the blue ocean. He didn’t think there could be a more peaceful place on earth. He could then see Scully sitting down in the grass farther down, her red hair gleaming in the sunshine, her feet sinking into the sand. She was looking down at something she was holding in her lap, but he couldn’t tell what it was. He continued walking towards her until he was standing next to her and could see what she held in her arms._

_She was holding a baby, wrapped in a light blue blanket. He stared at it, and he didn’t know how, but he knew it was the boy. His heart swelled with pride and happiness as she looked up at him and smiled. He got down on the grass next to her. She looked so beautiful. She was glowing with happiness, her smile radiant; her eyes sparkling and alive with emotion._

_He felt a lump grow in his throat as he looked at the boy, and he blinked back tears. “How?”_

_She shrugged. “Weren’t you praying for a miracle?”_

_He heaved a sigh, shaking his head in quiet disbelief._

_She smiled at him. “Willa Cather once said, ‘Where there is great love, there are always miracles.’”_

_The infant squirmed in his blanket, and Scully handed the baby to him, as he reached to take the boy in his arms._

A loud, jarring sound broke the quiet air of the early morning, and Mulder woke with a start, reaching for his cell phone on the table. The bedroom had begun to lighten with dawn slowly breaking outside. He glanced across the bed, and the digital clock on Scully’s bedside table read 6:24 am. Who would be calling his cell phone this early on a Saturday morning? If it was the Gunmen, he’d have to seriously hurt them.

“Mulder,” he answered, sighing and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Uh, hi, Agent Mulder? It’s Lieutenant James Moore with the Metro PD.”

He instantly knew who he was talking to, as his photographic memory brought to mind the tall officer in his late 30’s, with dark blond hair and a thing for Scully. “What can I do for you?” he asked.

“I was wondering if you and your partner would mind coming down to the station this morning,” Lieutenant Moore replied. “I’m sure you’ve heard of this female serial killer. We raided Dirty Dames again last night, and nothing. The suspect was there, we saw her enter the place, but then she was gone and no one saw her leave. It’s like she just disappeared. And the bodies of the working girls haven’t been found.”

Mulder’s attention and interest peaked. “We’ll be down. It’s the station on G Street, correct?”

“Yeah. And thanks.”

He hung up his cell phone, and turned to see Scully looking at him.

He smirked at her and waggled his eyebrows. “How does working that mysterious female serial killer case grab ya, G-Woman?”

She nodded her head, grinning, and started to slide off of the mattress.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Mulder said abruptly. “I’m getting into the shower first.”

She chuckled as she quickly walked around the bed, but Mulder jumped up and made it to the bathroom door before she did.

“Come on!” She knocked on the door. “I have to pee.”

He opened it. “All right, then. You can come in. I’ll allow it.”

“Oh, you’ll allow it, huh?” she responded sarcastically, arching an eyebrow. “Don’t forget that this is my place.”

Mulder wrapped his arm around Scully's waist, pulling her inside the bathroom, and kissed her as he shut the door behind them.

*****

Two hours later, Mulder and Scully were inside the Metro PD police station on G Street SE, dressed in their suits, listening to the briefing on the case. Captain Roy Hammond asked the group of officers gathered in the room for their suggestions to best handle the case.

Lieutenant Moore spoke up first. “Uh, sir, as you know I’ve called in Special Agents Mulder and Scully.”

The captain nodded in their direction with a tight smile.

“I was thinking, if the agents were open to it, that we could send Agent Scully in to work undercover as a working girl for Dirty Dames.”

A ferocious protectiveness instantly filled Mulder’s gut, and he glared at Lieutenant Moore. He pictured sexist, misogynist cops leering at a scantily-clad Scully through their binoculars and getting off on listening to her wire. He pictured her becoming a target for this serial killer. Murdering a police lieutenant in a room full of cops would most certainly put an end to his career. She would be pretty pissed off, too.

“Out of the question.”

The air in the room immediately became awkward, as Lieutenant Moore appeared to balk at the hard, fierce look he was getting from Mulder.

Scully raised her hand slowly, and gently squeezed Mulder’s forearm. He relaxed at her touch.

Captain Hammond cleared his throat. “I, uh, don’t really think that’s necessary at this stage in the investigation, Moore. But I won’t leave undercover work out as a possible option if other methods prove unsuccessful. Agent Mulder, do you have a suggestion?”

“I was thinking of setting up surveillance, putting together a stakeout.”

The officers groaned. The captain smirked. “The case is all yours, agents. Have at it. The FBI can have jurisdiction on this.”

He nodded, and saw that the officers in the room looked relieved. While he gathered the paperwork on the case, he noticed Lieutenant Moore fawning all over Scully, his gaze regularly drifting from her face down to her chest. Mulder seethed. After getting everything he needed, he freed her from Moore’s lecherous gazes and they exited the police station.

“A good, old-fashioned stakeout, Scully. Could be fun.” He grinned at her as he opened the driver’s side door of her car and unlocked the other doors.

She pursed her lips and sighed at the thought of staking out a strip club in southeast D.C, and then gave him a blank stare. “I’m all a tingle.”

Mulder stared at her, and Scully chuckled while getting into the passenger seat. They then drove to FBI headquarters to fill out the necessary paperwork on their end in order to take official control of the case.


	70. "You never draw my bath."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully work a stakeout on Dirty Dames strip club, but then Mulder is called away to work a case in Vermont for a few days, which ends up giving him some food for thought.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of the episode "Chimera" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by David Amann, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> This chapter contains some sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Metallica - "Sad But True"
> 
> Hey, I'm your life  
> I'm the one who takes you there  
> Hey, I'm your life  
> I'm the one who cares  
> They, they betray  
> I'm your only true friend now  
> They, they'll betray  
> I'm forever there
> 
> I'm your dream, make you real  
> I'm your eyes when you must steal  
> I'm your pain when you can't feel  
> Sad but true
> 
> I'm your dream, mind astray  
> I'm your eyes while you're away  
> I'm your pain while you repay  
> You know it's sad but true
> 
> Sad but true
> 
> You, you're my mask  
> You're my cover, my shelter  
> You, you're my mask  
> You're the one who's blamed  
> Do, do my work  
> Do my dirty work, scapegoat  
> Do, do my deeds  
> For you're the one who's shamed
> 
> I'm your dream, make you real  
> I'm your eyes when you must steal  
> I'm your pain when you can't feel  
> Sad but true
> 
> I'm your dream, mind astray  
> I'm your eyes while you're away  
> I'm your pain while you repay  
> You know it's sad but true
> 
> Sad but true
> 
> I'm your dream, I'm your eyes, I'm your pain  
> You know it's sad but true
> 
> Hate, I'm your hate  
> I'm your hate when you want love  
> Pay, pay the price  
> Pay for nothing's fair  
> Hey, I'm your life  
> I'm the one who took you there  
> Hey, I'm your life  
> And I no longer care
> 
> I'm your dream, make you real  
> I'm your eyes when you must steal  
> I'm your pain when you can't feel  
> Sad but true
> 
> I'm your truth, telling lies  
> I'm your reasoned alibis  
> I'm inside, open your eyes  
> I'm you
> 
> Sad but true

Late on Saturday night, April 8th, Mulder and Scully took up residence in a run down one bedroom motel 'suite' in a sleazy motel on Martin Luther King Jr Avenue in southeast Washington, D.C. The rat trap Mulder had found and rented after filling out the necessary paperwork and getting Bureau approval from Skinner would be their home until the stakeout ended. When Scully had entered the motel suite and taken a look around, she turned a steely glare at Mulder’s amused expression and fervently hoped they wouldn’t have to spend too much time there. But that was almost two weeks ago, and there they were still.

At 6:30 am on Friday, April 21st, Scully had woken up, then showered and dressed, before heading out to the supermarket. Mulder had worked the 12:00 am – 8:00 am shift and had stayed up all night sitting at the telescope pointed towards the front entrance to Dirty Dames. Upon returning, Scully set peanut butter, raspberry jam, and butter on the small circular kitchen table, inserted two English muffins into the toaster, and poured two glasses of orange juice. Just before 8:00 am, Mulder entered the kitchenette and sat down at the table.

“Good morning,” Scully said as she placed the plate with the steaming hot English muffin in front of Mulder.

“Morning,” he sighed, picking up the knife and starting to spread butter over his muffin, melting instantly when it made contact with the nooks and crannies.

She looked him over. He had dark circles under his eyes and the strands of his brown hair looked like they couldn’t decide which direction they wanted to go in. “You look exhausted.”

Mulder nodded as he took the knife and spread the peanut butter over his English muffin. He’d been sitting at that telescope since 4:00 pm the day before. He was looking forward to some sleep. Each night he and Scully took turns working the overnight shift, from 8:00 am to 4:00 pm one would take over while the other slept, and then they’d work together from 4:00 pm to midnight.

“So do you,” he said as he looked up at Scully, dressed in her black pants and green sweater, as she stood by the counter.

She sighed. “I’ve been so tired this week. I just feel so fatigued, all the time. And I have no idea what from. I’ve just been sitting in that room.”

“It’s probably from all the sitting and waiting, which is why most law enforcement officers find stakeouts tiresome and boring, and frequently unproductive.”

“Yeah, like this one,” Scully replied dryly.

Mulder smirked at her as he took a bite of his English muffin. Scully opened the mini fridge and grabbed the pint of milk, pouring a glass for Mulder, then walked to the counter, picking up her large coffee she’d gotten from the Starbucks on Pennsylvania Avenue, and then sat down at the table.

“Thanks,” said Mulder, taking the glass of milk from Scully and drinking.

“Any sign of your mysterious female serial killer?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. And, technically, there’s no real proof this woman is a serial killer. The bodies of these missing working girls haven’t been found, so we can’t say for sure they’re dead.”

She arched an eyebrow at him as she spread raspberry jam over her English muffin.

“Okay, so they’re probably dead,” Mulder replied, shrugging slightly, admitting defeat.

Scully sighed. “I can’t wait to be done with this case. I miss my apartment. I miss my bed. I miss my kitchen. I miss my bathtub. This mystery woman better hurry up and show herself so we can get out of this shithole.”

Mulder chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know. The place is growing on me.”

“You can’t be serious,” she responded, staring at him incredulously. “You don’t actually mind living like this? The hot water only works some of the time. The TV is broken. I’m pretty sure the guy in the room across the hall is a heroin addict. And in the past week two people have been stabbed within a block of here.”

“So it’s not the greatest of neighborhoods,” he replied. “But we’re here together. So it’s not all bad, Scully.”

“Are you trying to sweet talk me, Mulder?” she asked, grinning.

He raised his eyebrows. “No. Why? Would that work?”

She snorted.

Mulder shrugged his shoulders. “I could cope with pretty much anything as long as you were there, Scully.”

She watched him take his last bite of muffin and down his last gulp of orange juice, and smiled. Scully wanted out of this filthy motel. She’d done her best to clean the room up, but she was desperate to get home. A stakeout also meant that she and Mulder were on Bureau time around the clock, and so they were technically working 24 hours a day. This meant little reprieve time, and zero time together that didn’t involve watching the dregs of society through a telescope. She wanted this case over and done with as fast as possible.

“Mulder, I was thinking. It’s been two weeks since the last working girl came up missing, and there’s been no sign of this mysterious blonde suspect. How much longer will we have to wait for her to show herself?”

Scully watched his eyelids grow heavier as he leaned back in his chair and sighed. “The time span between victims one and two disappearing was 10 days. Three weeks went by before the fourth prostitute went missing after the third one was taken. Stakeouts are long and grueling, Scully. We just have to tough it out.”

She sighed. “Have you thought about going down there and checking out the place? Asking questions?”

“The police already did that, Scully. Nobody was willing to talk.”

“I’m not talking about police officers demanding answers after they raid the place, scaring the hell out of everyone inside. I’m talking about you, Mulder, walking in and sitting down at the bar.”

He crossed his arms, sighing. “What makes you think those women in there would even be willing to talk to me?”

She ran her eyes over him. “I’m willing to bet that if you walk in wearing a pair of jeans, they’ll talk to you plenty.”

Mulder scoffed. “They’d only be giving me attention because they think I’m a potential customer.”

Scully shook her head. “They’re still women, who have eyes. You might find one who was willing to tell you something useful.”

“I don’t know,” he replied, yawning. “I’ll think about it. Thanks for breakfast.” Mulder leaned over and kissed Scully on the cheek, stood up from the table, and headed towards the bedroom as she walked into the living room area and resumed sitting in front of the telescope.

*****

It was almost 3:30 pm on Friday when Mulder awoke in the lumpy queen-sized bed and made his way into the shower. After about 10 minutes, the hot water went, and he quickly finished up and jumped out. After getting dressed, he ran out to Starbucks and bought some coffee for himself and Scully. When Mulder returned to the motel, he found Scully sitting in front of the living room window with her head propped up with her hand, asleep.

“Scully, wake up,” Mulder said, brushing his elbow against her shoulder.

She jerked awake. “What time is it?”

He chuckled. “It’s almost 4:30. Here, take some coffee.”

“Thanks,” she yawned, getting up from the seat in front of the telescope and moving to the couch on the left.

“What’s Skinner gonna say when I tell him you’re sleeping on the job?” asked Mulder, smirking.

She scoffed. “I was only resting for a couple minutes. I have to whenever I can. This fatigue just won't go away.”

He grinned at her. “If you’re this tired now, Scully, how’re you gonna stay up all night?”

“Lots and lots of coffee,” she sighed. “So, have you given any real thought to going down there and checking the place out?”

“It might be a good idea,” he replied. “I could possibly get some decent information.”

As the sun set and the sky began to darken, Mulder sat at the telescope and watched the shady characters of the city’s underbelly come to life. Working girls began to walk the corner, drug dealers made their way in and out of Dirty Dames, men in vehicles ranging from old clunkers to luxury sedans pulled up to the curb in front to conduct business.

"You really should be paying close attention to these girls out here, Scully. You could pick up some fashion tips."

"You're hilarious, Mulder," she replied, tossing a very small package in his lap. "Take some gum. It'll give that mouth of yours something to do besides irritate me."

Mulder glanced over at his partner, sitting on the couch and re-reading the case file on the six missing prostitutes. He suddenly had an overwhelming feeling that Scully didn’t really belong here. That her intelligence and her abilities were being way underused sitting in this dingy motel room, spying on hookers and street criminals.

“Scully, what do you want?” he asked as he returned to the telescope.

She looked up at him. “Right now? To go home and take a long bubble bath.”

He snorted. “No, I mean… in general. What do you want?”

“You.” She smiled at him.

Mulder lifted his head, turning to look over at her. They gazed at one another, and smiled. He then nodded and returned to watching the Dirty Dames entrance. “What about the X-Files? Do you still want to work them?”

Scully thought about it for a second. She knew she had felt discontent for a long time, but since her run-in with Daniel and her experience inside that Buddhist temple, she no longer felt that way. “Yes, I do. I still think we do some good, and I’d like to continue as long as we’re making a contribution to society. I could do without having to work cases in shitty places like this, though.”

He grinned and nodded into the telescope. While working the X-Files had been much more of a personal quest for Mulder, his mission to find the truth about the existence of alien life and the government’s efforts to hide that truth, he highly admired Scully’s more altruistic reasons of justice and saving lives. Scully didn’t just want the truth, she wanted the answers. She wanted to know what they were going to do about it once they found the truth. Figuring that out was the hard part.

“What do you want for dinner?” Scully asked, standing up off the couch. “Please, anything but pizza.”

Mulder chuckled. “How about a couple sandwiches from Dom’s Deli down the street?”

“Okay. But, Mulder, if I get stabbed on my way in or out of that place, please know that my death was entirely your fault.”

He started laughing. “It’s a good thing you’re bringing a gun to this knife fight happening in your imagination.”

Scully shook her head, grabbed her jacket and car keys, and walked out of the motel room. About 30 minutes later she returned unharmed with sandwiches, an iced tea for Mulder, and a bottled water for herself.

Later that night, Mulder dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, a charcoal gray t-shirt, and strapped on his shoulder gun holster. Mulder then inserted his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans and grabbed his keys, before walking out of the bedroom and joining Scully in the living room, where she was sitting in the chair facing the window.

She turned, looking him up and down. “I’m sure you’ll have those working girls eating out of the palm of your hand.” But Scully suddenly felt nervous about sending Mulder into that place without any back up, and without a wire. She would have no idea what was happening inside. “Please be careful.”

Mulder crouched down in front of her, sliding his hands along the tops of her thighs. “I’m only going to sit quietly inside and observe. Hopefully, I’ll overhear something or maybe even get somebody to talk to me. I don’t plan on getting involved in anything dangerous.”

Scully nodded, placing her hands over his. “Please don’t. I want you to get back to this flea trap in one piece.”

He snorted. They gazed at one another for some seconds, unspoken words of love and devotion passing between them. Mulder then stood up, grabbed his leather jacket from the back of the couch, inserting his FBI badge in the inside pocket, and left the suite.

*****

As Mulder approached the entrance to Dirty Dames at 10:00 pm, walking past the working girls hanging around outside and an old van crudely spray painted with Christian messages of salvation, the bouncer stopped him. He was African American, probably in his late 20’s or early 30’s, and huge. Mulder thought he could’ve passed for an NFL player.

The bouncer looked Mulder up and down suspiciously. “Can I see some I.D.?”

Mulder reached for his wallet and took out his fake Massachusetts driver’s license, handing it over to the bouncer. The bouncer studied it closely before handing it back to him. He then stepped aside, allowing Mulder to enter the strip club. After he walked inside, greeted by semidarkness and a smoky atmosphere, he took the last seat on the end of the crescent-shaped bar in the back of the large room. As Mulder looked around at the few other men at the bar, and even more that were grouped by the stage, he felt confident that he could have a long conversation with anyone here and none of them would be able to recognize him if they came across him again. Not that it would really matter if they did.

He ordered a beer from the bartender, and drank it slowly. Mulder waited, and watched unimpressive dancers work their routines around the pole to various hip hop and cheesy 80’s heavy metal songs. He thought the women on stage certainly fit the name of the place. As he took in his surroundings, Mulder noticed several crimes occurring in plain view, right under his nose. He saw drug deals, pimps manhandling their employees in dark corners, and other nefarious dealings. He seethed, and his stomach knotted, but he knew that he could do nothing about it. Mulder had to ignore the injustices happening right in front of him, in order to preserve the stakeout, and even people’s lives. He didn’t think pulling his gun out in this place would end well for anyone.

After Mulder had been sitting at the bar for over half an hour, the strobe lights turned brighter and a worthy performer mounted the stage, judging by the hooting and cheers from the men gathered around it. He noticed those who’d been sitting at the bar stand up and walk closer to get a better view as a Metallica song started raging through the venue. She wore a black and blue plaid miniskirt, a short-sleeved button down blouse, black and tight, and black stiletto heels. Her legs were long and slender, and her breasts were perfect, natural, not too small and not too large. Even with the colored strobe light flashing, Mulder could tell that her straight shoulder-length hair was jet black. As he looked around, he saw that every man’s eyes were glued to the spinning woman. Their hard earned dollars were flying all over the stage as she danced, just as intense and fierce as the music which backed her routine.

Mulder noticed a young man in baggy jeans and a t-shirt proudly displaying the Greek letters belonging to his fraternity leave the crowd and approach the bartender. “Who is that on the stage?” he asked, his tone filled with awe.

“Oh, that’ Blue,” replied the bartender. “She somethin’ special, huh?”

The frat boy nodded. “I’d like to get some alone time with her.”

The bartender laughed. “Yeah, you and every other guy in here, buddy. But I’m pretty sure she ain’t in your budget. Why don’t you try one of the girls outside?”

Mulder watched the frat boy grumble and walk away from the bar. Blue’s routine ended, and she left the stage. Soon another dancer took her place. After a short time, Blue starting working the room, walking around and flirting with the patrons, dressed in a tight, black halter-top mini-dress. She approached the bar, several seats down from Mulder, and within seconds men had left their barstools and were all over her, showering her with compliments and offering to buy her drinks.

He ordered his second beer and casually sipped from the bottle, not showing any interest in the pole-spinning beauty. During the years he spent with the Behavioral Science Unit and with Violent Crimes, Mulder had learned that a good opening ploy with certain types of women was to simply ignore them, and soon these women would only become aware of one thing: they were being ignored.

Mulder could tell this Blue woman kept looking in his direction, but he refused to acknowledge her presence at the bar. After a few minutes, it appeared that she could no longer take Mulder’s silent treatment, and walked over to sit in the stool next to his. She then crossed her legs until the tops of her sheer thigh-high black nylons and her blue garters showed. Her body language was screaming ‘hello,’ but Mulder maintained his detached, cool demeanor. Like most law enforcement agents, he had little patience for women who were in the business of selling themselves.

He slowly turned his head to look at her, noticing the blue tint to her shiny jet black hair, falling straight to her shoulders with bangs covering her forehead. “The name fits.”

She smiled, and he turned his head back to face the bar. “Did you like my dancing?” she asked, honey dripping from her voice.

“It was pretty good,” said Mulder, shrugging slightly.

“Hmm,” Blue replied, nodding. “I take it you’d be more interested in something that was more… special? Private?”

He turned to glance at her. “Shouldn’t you be working out front with an offer like that?”

She glared at him, an edge of steel to her voice. “I’m no street walker. I’m a consummate professional.” Honey then returned to her tone. “I can show you just how professional I am.”

Mulder sipped from his beer bottle, not looking at her. “Paying for it is beneath me. It’s beneath you, too.”

Blue peered into Mulder’s profile, and lust stirred underneath her skin. As he turned his head and they locked eyes, Mulder knew he had her. He stood up from the bar, taking his beer with him, and walked to a dark back corner of the room, taking a seat made of plush red velvet. Not long after, Blue had taken the seat across from him. After speaking with her for almost 45 minutes, Mulder was of the opinion that she was witty and intelligent, and belonged in a college library instead of a strip club.

Her blue eyes twinkled at him. “So… are you going to tell me your name?”

Mulder met her gaze. “Fox.”

“Am I supposed to believe that’s your real name?” she scoffed.

“Am I supposed to believe ‘Blue’ is your real name?” asked Mulder dryly.

She sighed, nodding and licking her lips. “All right, then. _Fox_.” Mulder noted a hint of sarcasm.

“Don’t you find it dangerous to work here with those girls disappearing?” he asked.

“Let me guess, you’re a cop,” said Blue, smirking at him.

“No, why? Are you?” Mulder deadpanned.

She snorted. “I have no dealings with the trash who hang around outside. I don’t give it away for 30 bucks. I’ve got standards. I know very little of what they get up to out there, and I don’t want to know any more. So I’ve got nothing to be afraid of. Seriously, are you a cop? Or what?”

Mulder shook his head. “I’m not a police officer, no. I work for the government.”

“I’ve known lots of men who work for the government,” Blue replied suggestively. “You’d be surprised at how many secrets they spill after only a couple private dances and several shots of scotch.”

“I’m sure,” he said, nodding. “You hear anything remotely interesting? Anything about this mysterious woman who’s been on the news, the one kidnapping the girls who work the corner outside?”

Blue sighed, shaking her head. “No, nothing about that. I doubt people honestly care about some missing hookers. Except maybe their pimps.”

Mulder remembered the room full of police officers down at the Metro PD station who suddenly looked immensely relieved when Captain Hammond gave him and Scully the case. “You’re probably right. Somebody around here must know something, though.”

She eyed him. “You wanna hear a pretty interesting government secret I learned just recently?”

“Sure,” he replied indulgently, feeling amused.

“This guy came in last month, claimed he worked at the Pentagon,” Blue said. “He was in his late 40’s, I’d say. Good looking enough. And he could afford me, so that’s all that really mattered. After giving him a good time, and plenty of premium liquor, he started blabbing about this government project to create the perfect soldier. One that was super powerful and wouldn’t need to carry any weapons. One that was invincible, and could never be killed.”

Mulder sighed, remembering Augustus ‘Preacher’ Cole. “That’s not really a secret. The government’s been trying to create the perfect soldier for decades.”

“Maybe,” Blue said. “Nothing would surprise me. Well, except this guy did say something real weird. He said they were using something from aliens to create these soldiers. That’s when I knew he’d had way too much booze. Talking about aliens. Isn’t that crazy?” She started giggling.

“Nothing would surprise me,” Mulder replied carefully, using her own words, wondering at all the crackpot stories she must hear from different men trying to impress her. He realized that this woman truly knew nothing about the missing working girls, and started to stand up from his seat. “Well, it was nice talking to you.”

She stood up abruptly, her three-inch heels bringing her fairly close to Mulder’s six-foot height. “Are you sure you aren’t looking for someone special tonight?”

“I believe I already stated that I don’t pay for it,” said Mulder.

Blue glanced nervously around them and looked back at him, lowering her voice. “Listen, I, uh, get off the clock at two. We could, uh, meet up somewhere later. No money involved.”

Mulder stared at her. “Thanks for the offer, but no.”

“That’s too bad,” Blue said, her eyes and tone suggestive. “I have a thing for tall men with green eyes.”

He then sighed and walked away. It was now going on midnight, and he couldn’t wait to get away from this place and get back to Scully. So Mulder left Dirty Dames behind, with its petty crimes and health code violations that he had tried desperately to ignore. After walking around the block to Martin Luther King Jr Avenue, he entered the front of the motel building where they’d been staying for almost two weeks and took the elevator to the fifth floor.

Mulder stood outside the door, bringing his key to the lock, but hesitated. There was something within law enforcement agents that tried to make their home life a world perfect and separate from the horrors they were forced to witness on the job. Mulder didn’t know what it was or where because sometimes he felt it in his chest and sometimes in his throat and sometimes somewhere deep in his gut. And he was aware that the nature of the X-Files sometimes meant that these things could not easily be left behind when he walked through the door. Mulder stood there, outside the motel room door, thinking of the witty and intelligent woman who clearly belonged somewhere far, far away from Dirty Dames, thinking of the blatant crimes he’d ignored, and the young women wasting their lives away working the street outside the club. Usually the most difficult thing to leave behind, as right now for Mulder, was the conscience.

He unlocked the door to their room, and walked inside. Scully quickly walked away from the window and greeted him. “I saw you walk out a few minutes ago. You have no idea how relieved I felt to see you leaving that place.”

Mulder smiled and nodded as Scully stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his waist, looking up at him. “You reek of cigarette smoke.”

“I know,” he chuckled.

“Did you learn anything useful?” Scully asked.

He sighed, and shook his head. “Not a damn thing.”

“It was worth a shot,” she replied, shrugging, and then arched her eyebrow at him. “I’m sure you at least got some entertainment out of it.”

“I don’t know if ‘entertainment’ is the right word, Scully,” he said dryly.

She nodded, giving him a slight smile. “You should get to bed. But you should also shower first.”

Mulder smirked down at her scrunched up facial expression, and bent his head to give her a brief kiss. “I’m gonna.”

Scully removed her arms from Mulder’s waist and resumed her spot in the living room while he headed into the bathroom to shower.

The rest of the weekend went by much the same: uneventful. No other women outside Dirty Dames had been kidnapped or harmed, and the suspect made no appearances. At 8:42 pm on Tuesday, April 25th, Scully walked into the apartment carrying a cardboard holder and two cups of coffee. Mulder was sitting at the telescope, chewing his gum, looking for any sign of the mysterious blonde woman. Outside Dirty Dames was that old 'Jesus Saves' van again, parked along the curb where the working girls were at their business. It’d been over two weeks now, and there was no sign of her.

“Anything?” Scully asked, walking to stand next to Mulder and handing him his coffee.

Mulder reached for it without looking up from the telescope, knowing it would be there. “No. She'll come. Matter of time.”

Scully watched him drink his coffee while keeping a vigilant eye on the telescope. “Yeah. Well, I hope you realize there's no evidence whatsoever that this mystery woman of yours has even committed a crime.” She then looked down on the coffee table at a picture of the blonde woman in a very skimpy dress, next to the remnants of their numerous take-out meals. “Though her wardrobe comes close.”

“Ah...,” Mulder reacted amusedly to her quip, looking up at her. “Six prostitutes were seen with her at Dirty Dames never to be seen again. Not only might she be a female serial killer, rare in and of itself, but twice police raided that club to arrest her…”

“And twice they came up empty-handed,” Scully finished his sentence dully.

“She's on tape going in. The exits are covered. She's nowhere to be found. What happens to her? She disappear? Turn invisible?”

Scully shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I hope we catch her, so she can tell us before I have to spend another night here. You know, Mulder, I don't know about you but I find this all very depressing. This round-the-clock exposure to the seamy underbelly.”

Mulder look over at her, noticing how tired she looked, and began his pep talk. “That's the job, Scully. Vigilance in the face of privation. The sheer will that it takes to sit in this crappy room spying on the dregs of society until our suspect surfaces. There's something ennobling in that.”

She stared at him, not feeling inspired by his positive viewpoint on the matter. His cell phone then started ringing. He watched Scully look at a half-eaten sandwich, and then discard it unenthusiastically.

“Mulder.”

“Agent Mulder, I need you to come to my office.” It was Skinner.

“Now?” he asked.

“Yes, Mulder. Right now.”

“All right,” he replied before hanging up and picking up his suit jacket. “I got to go.”

Scully stared at him in disbelief as he walked toward the door. “Mulder…” she called after him plaintively. But he was already gone, and she sighed.

*****

On Saturday evening, April 29th, Mulder pulled up his car alongside Scully’s apartment building in Georgetown. He didn’t get out of the car right away, but sat there lost in thought. It was cold for late April in D.C., but the cherry blossoms were still blooming. It had rained recently, and the streets were black and wet, like the glossy wing of a raven. Earlier that afternoon, Mulder had left Ellen Adderly and her husband Phil behind at the Deschamps County Psychiatric Hospital in Vermont.

Depositing someone like Ellen in a mental institution was depressing and unsettling. Mulder found himself loathing Phil Adderly beyond words. That fucker didn’t know just how good he had it. He had a wife who loved and cared for him, who gave him a beautiful daughter, and he still had to fuck around. And not just with one woman either. Phil Adderly’s obvious attempts to obscure and cover evidence made the case pathetically easy to solve, at least the criminal part of it. It had reminded Mulder of why he’d wanted out of the Behavioral Science and Violent Crime units. It was too depressing to see what normal human beings were capable of doing to other normal human beings.

When Mulder had asked Phil if he had any idea who the father of the deceased Martha Crittendon’s baby was, he had felt nothing but fury for this asshole who spread his semen around town like it was nobody’s business. His wife had already given him a healthy baby girl, and there he went giving a bunch of other ladies his complimentary sperm samples. Mulder knew of Martha and Jenny Uphouse, but who knows just how many there had been over the years?

Ellen Adderly had worked hard to make her life perfect, to give Phil the perfect home, to give him a secure place away from the horrors of the job. She treated him like he was king of the castle, cooked elaborate meals, kept the home spotless, and ironed his damn shirts. And what did she get in return? An unthankful, disloyal husband, which sent her reeling towards some kind of a psychotic breakdown.

Mulder sighed as he got out of the car, grabbing his overnight duffel and some grocery bags from the trunk, and made his way into Scully’s apartment building. Upon arriving at her door, he pulled out his key ring and unlocked it, stepping inside. Some lights were on, there was a fire going in the fireplace and Mulder grinned as he looked at it. Had their last night together really been weeks ago? He set the grocery bags inside the refrigerator in her kitchen. He then wandered into Scully’s bedroom, dropping his duffel bag on the floor, and saw some clothes strewn across the comforter on her bed.

He stepped into the bathroom, and laid his eyes on Scully soaking in her claw-foot bathtub, steam rising from the hot water. “You warm yet?”

Her eyes opened, and her gaze settled on him. “Yes, you bastard.”

Mulder smirked. “Have you washed off the seamy underbelly yet?”

“Two hot showers and one bath since I left the stakeout behind, and I feel almost clean.”

“Clean,” he scoffed. “I wish I felt clean.”

Scully eyed him standing there, and licked her lips. “So are you gonna get in here with me, or what?”

He stared at the tub. “Bathtubs haven’t been too good to me lately.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “If I can get into a tub after everything with Donnie Pfaster, then you can climb in here with me after some monster housewife attacked you.”

Mulder laughed and started removing his tie. After discarding the rest of his clothes, he settled his bruised and aching body into the hot water, leaning back into Scully’s soft chest, her mouth kissing his temple and her legs wrapping around his hips. She then soaked a round, neutral-colored loofah sponge in the hot bath water, added some vanilla-scented body wash, and squeezed until soap suds formed. Scully then began to gently drag the sponge across Mulder’s arms, chest, and shoulders, before moving down to his stomach and legs as far as she could reach. He sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head back against her shoulder. Ellen Adderly’s words starting drifting to the front of his mind.

_“I get the feeling you're not used to anyone taking care of you.”_

It was true, Scully didn’t iron his shirts or do his laundry, and Mulder certainly didn’t expect her to. Occasionally she cooked, but she’d cook those same meals whether he was there or not. They didn’t live together, and it didn’t seem like that would change in the foreseeable future. Is that what it meant to be taken care of? Just to have someone to cook and keep a home clean for you? Mulder didn’t think so.

“Scully?”

“Hmm?” she responded in his ear. She had abandoned the sponge and was languidly running her fingers across his arms and chest.

“Do you think of me as your significant other?” Mulder asked.

The lazy movements of Scully’s hands against his skin stopped. “Where did that come from?”

He shrugged, and started to rub circles on her knee. “Ellen Adderly asked me if I had a, uh, significant other.”

“Oh.” Scully didn’t know where this conversation was going. “And… what did you say?”

“I said ‘not in the widely understood definition of that term,’” Mulder replied. “‘Significant other’ made me think of couples who go antique shopping, or who go to brunch at the country club.”

Scully started laughing. “Well, I think that if you take the term at its most basic, psychological definition you’ll find that it can be applied to more people than just those who frequent antique shops. In psychology, a significant other is anyone who has great importance to your life or well-being, any person who has a direct influence on your self-concept. That can be very different from the colloquial use of the term. It’s also vague and gender-neutral, so it can be used without giving away any real details regarding sexual orientation or relationship status.”

Mulder paused. “So, uh, what do you think of that term… when you think about… us?”

She ran her hands across his chest, hugging him against her. “I think that this is the most all-consuming, challenging, and complete relationship I’ve ever had. So I’d say that’s pretty significant.”

“What do you mean by ‘complete?’” he chuckled.

“Leave it to you to ignore the consuming and challenging parts,” Scully quipped. “Well, what do you think of the term ‘significant other’ when you think about us?”

Mulder sighed, thinking. “I suppose… considering the usage in psychology you mentioned… that when I think of myself and who I am, I also think about you. There couldn’t possibly be one without the other.”

“Complete,” she whispered into his ear, smiling.

“Do you mean to say you would be incomplete without me?” Mulder asked teasingly.

But Scully felt herself grow serious. “Yes.”

Mulder felt the same way. “Significant other,” he whispered.

“Partner,” Scully replied.

He sighed, smiling. “Yeah.”

She then ran her wet fingers through Mulder’s hair, massaging his scalp. He closed his eyes and groaned at the pleasurable sensation, feeling blood rush to his groin.

“We should do this more often,” Scully purred in his ear, and his cock hardened even more.

Mulder turned his head, his lips seeking hers. She captured his lips, and kissed him softly, passionately. Scully slowly ran the fingers of her right hand down Mulder’s chest and stomach, his skin slick against her hand, the warm water around them soothing. Her hand then gently wrapped around his thick shaft and Mulder gasped into Scully’s mouth.

“You like that, huh?” she whispered after breaking the kiss.

He closed his eyes and started panting. “Yes.”

As Scully began to stroke him, Mulder devoured her lips and fervently kissed her. Scully loved how he felt in her hand, his heaviness against her palm, soft like silk and yet hard as iron. She felt her vaginal muscles clench and a low moan escaped her throat. Mulder deepened the kiss, and attempted to turn his body to face hers, but Scully’s left hand pressed against his stomach, keeping him in place while her right hand started to stroke his hard cock faster.

Mulder pulled away from the kiss and leaned his head back against Scully’s shoulder, closing his eyes and panting. Her tongue lightly brushed the outside shell of his ear as she squeezed him tighter. Mulder’s hips arched in her hand, his hands gripped the sides of the bathtub, and he began to focus on his imminent release.

Scully ran her thumb over the slick, engorged head of his cock, twisting, before she resumed stroking his thick length. “I love how you feel in my hand, Mulder.”

He groaned. God, he loved it when she talked like that, but it only happened rarely. He hoped she’d start doing it during sex more often. She started to stroke faster and squeeze tighter.

“Scully…” Mulder breathed, gasping. “Fuck!”

Her tongue darted out to brush against his ear again, and his body tensed. Electric jolts of pleasure were rippling out across his groin to his spine, down his thighs, and up to the pit of his stomach.

“Oh, Mulder, I love watching you when you come,” Scully whispered.

His brain blanked, and Mulder then moaned her name, loudly reverberating against the bathroom walls, as his hips arched off the bottom of the bathtub, pumping his release in her hand. Scully then gradually slowed her hand’s movements around Mulder’s erection as he spent himself with small aftershocks, collapsing back against her, sending waves of bath water rolling throughout the tub.

“I can see why you love baths so much,” he mumbled, turning to nuzzle the side of her neck.

She chuckled. “But it’s time to get out now.”

Mulder opened his eyes and looked at her. “But we're not done. I've gotta take care of you.”

“Well, we can finish up elsewhere because the water is getting cold.”

They then stood, getting out of the tub, and Scully pulled the drain. Mulder grabbed the large mauve bath towel off the sink and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I bet we can warm up in the bedroom.”

“I’m sure we can,” Scully replied, smiling.

*****

The following morning, Scully awoke to the sounds of someone moving around her kitchen and the smell of coffee brewing. As she glanced into the empty space in the bed next to her, she knew that someone had to be Mulder. After throwing on her ivory silk pajamas, she walked into the kitchen to see him standing by her counter looking at a box of pancake mix.

“Mulder, what are you doing?”

He turned to look at her. “Oh! Well, I know you usually go to church with your mother on Sunday morning, but I was, uh, I was going to make you breakfast. I got stuff to make pancakes.”

She stared at him. “But you don’t cook.”

“It’s a box, Scully. I think I can follow directions.”

“Hmm,” she replied, skeptically. “How about we make breakfast together?”

Mulder thought he liked that idea much better, and nodded eagerly. She smirked at him, and joined him at the counter. After they mixed one cup of the Bisquick™ mix, ½ cup of milk, ½ tablespoon of sugar, one tablespoon of lemon juice, one teaspoon of baking powder, and an egg, they heated up Scully’s electric griddle, poured about ¼ cupfuls onto the griddle, and cooked a batch of pancakes. While the pancakes kept warm in the oven, they sliced up some strawberries Mulder had bought at the supermarket, setting them on the dining table along with the maple syrup and their mugs of coffee.

Scully and Mulder then dined together on a breakfast of delicious, light and fluffy pancakes.

“So, Mulder…,” Scully said after taking a sip of her coffee. “What made you decide to make me breakfast?”

He remembered the gourmet breakfast spread Ellen Adderly had laid out for her piece of shit husband, but he shrugged. “I just thought you deserved something nice after I deserted you to work the stakeout by yourself.”

“Well, I happened to do pretty good work by myself up there,” she replied, arching an eyebrow.

Mulder chuckled. “That’s true. You solved the... uh, crazy caper. But I bet you missed me terribly.”

“Oh definitely, that shithole motel room just wasn’t the same without you,” she quipped.

He snorted, taking a bite of his second pancake. They then sat there eating for the next few minutes in comfortable silence. More of Ellen Adderly’s words came forward in Mulder’s mind, after he’d replied to her ‘significant other’ question.

_“Well, the right woman will come along and change all that. Don't miss out on home and family, Mr. Mulder. With all the terrible things you must see in your work, well, it could be a refuge for you.”_

Mulder watched Scully pop a piece of bright red strawberry in her mouth, chewing contentedly, and he smiled to himself. He was sure that many young women dream of having the perfect life with the loving husband, the large house, and beautiful children. He knew that Scully once had such a dream life many years ago, but Ellen Adderly was proof that life very rarely hands you the perfectly packaged fairy tale.

There was no such thing as perfection, but one could find contentment in life. Mulder knew that he and Scully would never have children, it could be a very long time before either of them entertained the idea of living together under the same roof, and they’d most likely never have a conventional relationship, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have home or family. His family was Scully, and his home was wherever she was. His partnership with Scully had been his refuge for a very long time now. Mulder wasn’t really missing out, and unlike Phil Adderly, he knew exactly how good he had it and he wasn’t about to fuck it up for anything.

He watched Scully get up from the table and walk to the refrigerator, where she pulled out a quart of milk and then poured herself a small glass. As she opened the refrigerator door again to return the milk, she turned back to him.

“Do you want anything else?” Scully asked.

Mulder smiled at her, shaking his head slightly. “Nah. I have everything I need.”


	71. "I refuse to accept that."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully head to Winston-Salem, North Carolina to help out Skinner, with unexpected consequences.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of the episode "Brand X" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Steven Maeda & Greg Walker, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> Sidenote: The scene with Scully at Mulder's bedside is supposed to be emotional and touching, but I can't help cracking up laughing every time I watch it when I think of all of Duchovny's comebacks to her "How are you feeling?" line from the Season 7 gag reel and the dailies from this scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus - "Your Guardian Angel"
> 
> When I see your smile  
> Tears roll down my face  
> I can't replace  
> And now that I'm strong I have figured out  
> How this world turns cold and it breaks through my soul  
> And I know I'll find deep inside me I can be the one
> 
> I will never let you fall  
> I'll stand up with you forever  
> I'll be there for you through it all  
> Even if saving you sends me to heaven
> 
> It's okay, it's okay, it's okay  
> Seasons are changing  
> And waves are crashing  
> And stars are falling all for us  
> Days grow longer and nights grow shorter  
> I can show you I'll be the one
> 
> I will never let you fall  
> I'll stand up with you forever  
> I'll be there for you through it all  
> Even if saving you sends me to heaven
> 
> Cuz you're my, you're my, my, my true love, my whole heart  
> Please don't throw that away  
> Cuz I'm here for you  
> Please don't walk away and  
> Please tell me you'll stay
> 
> Woah... Stay... Woah...
> 
> Use me as you will  
> Pull my strings just for a thrill  
> And I know I'll be okay  
> Though my skies are turning gray
> 
> I will never let you fall  
> I'll stand up with you forever  
> I'll be there for you through it all  
> Even if saving you sends me to heaven

On Monday, May 1st, the cold and gray light of early morning was beginning to make its way through Scully’s bedroom window as Mulder was busy smothering her with long, passionate kisses. She sighed as his soft and warm lips made their way down her neck, across her collarbone. She ran her fingers through his hair while her other hand gently stroked the skin of his back and her thighs wrapped around his waist, her muscles clenching as blood rushed to her groin.

“You’re gonna be late,” Scully said, smirking.

“I don’t care,” replied Mulder, dipping his tongue in the hollow of her collarbone, causing her to shudder. “There are more important things than work.”

She snorted. “Since when? And when have you ever arrived at the office later than 7:30?” she asked.

“It’s been known to happen on occasion,” Mulder whispered, his lips caressing across her skin from the nape of her neck to behind her earlobe, his tongue probing the soft flesh behind it.

She moaned. Scully’s breasts were pressed into his chest, her nipples hardening against him, and all Mulder could think of was more. More of this. More pleasure. More time. More of Scully, and only of her. More of her lips, her hands, her legs, her neck, her breasts, her soft skin. More, more, more. A ball of hot, desirous need began to tighten in the pit of his stomach. And then his cell phone started ringing.

“Goddammit,” he groaned, lifting himself up and reaching for his phone on the bedside table. “Mulder.”

“Agent Mulder,” said Skinner. “I’m having a bit of a situation and I was wondering if you and Agent Scully would be able to assist me.”

He looked down at Scully’s questioning look and he mouthed ‘Skinner’ at her. She nodded.

“Uh, of course, sir. What can we do?”

Skinner sighed. “I’ve been on a witness protection stint for a high profile federal case against Morley Tobacco, and unfortunately my witness has wound up dead under, uh, strange circumstances. I need you and Scully to come down here to Winston-Salem, North Carolina. Call me back once you get a flight down here, and I’ll fill you in on more details.”

“We’ll be there as soon as possible,” Mulder replied, before hanging up and looking back at Scully. “Pack a bag, ‘cause we’re heading to the airport.”

"Where are we going?" Scully asked.

He sighed. "North Carolina. Skinner needs us to join him down there."

He then resumed nuzzling against her neck, softly kissing her skin. "I'm afraid this is gonna have to wait," he whispered.

She smiled. "That's okay. It'll give us something to look forward to when we get back."

Mulder grinned, and then rolled off the bed and headed towards the bathroom to jump in the shower while Scully got up and grabbed her overnight bag from the closet.

*****

On Wednesday morning, May 3rd, Scully was at the Forsyth County Morgue autopsying the second victim who had appeared to die in the same manner as the federal witness Skinner was in charge of protecting, Dr. Jim Scobie. While Scobie’s body hadn’t shown any signs of what could’ve possibly caused the damage to his lungs, throat, and mouth, she was shocked at what she’d found with the latest victim.

At 11:21 am, Skinner walked into the morgue and approached Scully, wincing down at the sight on the table. “What am I looking at?”

“Thomas Gastall's left lung and bronchus,” Scully replied, looking down at the open lungs filled with insect larvae.

“Well, I guess that explains where the beetles came from,” said Skinner.

Scully could hear footsteps approaching, and turned as Mulder entered the autopsy bay. He looked tired. “Hey, Mulder. Where have you been?”

“Talking to lawyers over at Justice,” he said. “Trying to get a look at Morley's files.”

“Well, take a look at this,” replied Scully, glancing down at the corpse.

Mulder looked down, feeling repulsed and swallowed back a gag, before walking away to sit against a counter. Scully had expected him to be a little more excited about her discovery.

“They're the larval stage of the tobacco beetle, Mulder, and somehow, they have ended up nesting in Thomas Gastall's lungs.”

“But what doesn't make any sense is why Scobie's lungs didn't show this same condition,” Skinner said.

Mulder felt his chest tightening, and started to cough.

“The larvae must pupate inside the lungs and then once they mature into beetles exit the body en masse,” Scully replied.

“Well, that explains the condition of the face and throat,” responded Skinner.

He coughed again, and Scully turned away from her boss to focus on him.

“Only, how do they get into the lungs to begin with?” Skinner asked.

He put his hand over his mouth and coughed violently. He felt something come up, and he looked down at his hand. A sense of panic started to rise in his gut.

“Mulder?” Scully looked at him, concerned. She walked over to him and he turned his hand to face her. It was covered with blood. She felt her stomach bottom out as Mulder looked at her, fear etched across his features.

"Scully?" It was said in a panicked whisper that also said 'Oh, my God' and 'Help me' at the same time.

He didn’t have much time to give this turn of events much thought because the tickle deep in his chest that had caused the slight hacking was now turning into a full-blown burning cough, and Mulder found himself doubled over. Skinner ran over to him, grabbing him by the shoulders to steady him as Scully  whipped out her cell phone and dialed 911.

As she spoke to the dispatcher, her voice urgent and tense, she cursed the fact that out of all the times when it was most needed for the morgue to be in a lower floor of the local hospital, the Forsyth County Morgue happened to be in the county building and the closest hospital was two miles away in Ashford. Mulder could’ve been on a stretcher in the emergency room by the time the ambulance arrived.

Scully urged Mulder to lie down, but he only gave her a hard look in return. There was no way in hell he was going to lie down on one of the morgue’s steel gurneys while he was still living. Instead, Mulder leaned heavily against Skinner every time a coughing fit erupted. The taste of blood in the back of his throat was making him nauseous and Scully, seeing the look come over his face, rushed to grab a small trash can and held it up as he doubled over and purged his stomach into the can just as the paramedics were rushing into the autopsy bay.

“He’s hemorrhaging,” said one female EMT to her male partner.

“No, the blood is in his lungs,” Scully corrected her. “He’s been infected with tobacco beetle larvae. He needs to be put on oxygen right away.”

The EMTs stared at her. The man looked down at the open chest of Thomas Gastall on the steel table and cringed. “Like this guy?”

Scully nodded. “Exactly like that guy.”

“Holy shit, Pleschette,” he said to his partner. “Come on, let’s get this guy on the stretcher and we’ll start the O2. What else, Doc?”

All of Scully’s medical training came forward, the logical and rational part of her brain suppressing the emotional in an effort to push away her fears for Mulder. “Call in to the hospital and have a pulmonary specialist waiting for us. He’ll need a full series of chest X-rays, ready to go as soon as he arrives. We can’t afford to waste any time.”

“Yes, doctor,” Pleschette answered as she assisted her partner with getting Mulder on the stretcher.

But as soon as he lay down, Mulder felt his chest constrict and panic flooded his brain, he jerked against the hands of the EMTs, fighting to sit up. “I…,” he coughed, blood flying out across his suit. “Can’t…,” he continued to cough up blood. “Lie down.”

Scully’s eyes widened. “We need to keep him sitting up. There’s fluid building up in his lungs.”

Mulder looked at her, feeling a sense of horror knowing this ‘fluid’ was his own blood and he was going to choke on it. The oxygen came over his face, and for once in his entire life he welcomed the claustrophobic plastic mask. His suit jacket was removed and then he held out his left arm, grabbing onto Scully’s hand, as the EMTs inserted the I.V. needle.

*****

The ride to the hospital was a bumpy and uncomfortable one, but at least it was short. Scully held tight onto Mulder’s hand, their fingers entwined. He continued to cough, spraying blood inside the oxygen mask, and Pleschette would then momentarily remove the mask to wipe it clean. Mulder watched Scully worriedly chew on her bottom lip each time and he’d squeeze her hand.

As the ambulance turned a street corner, quickly approaching the hospital, Mulder suddenly saw his surroundings start to fade and he felt like he was floating away. And then Scully’s sharp voice forced his eyes back open.

“Mulder, don’t you dare go to sleep! Not until we get to the hospital. You have to stay with me. Do you understand? Don’t go to sleep.”

He nodded, and put forth every effort to keep his eyes open. Mulder knew that if Scully was that insistent, it was important, and perhaps his whole life depended on keeping his eyes open. So he chanted inside his head ‘Don’t go to sleep’ over and over again, believing, perhaps irrationally, that if he closed his eyes and fell asleep in the ambulance he’d never be able to open them again. Mulder stared into Scully’s face, using all his strength to keep himself from succumbing to exhaustion.

The ambulance stopped in front of the emergency room doors, and Scully flew out of the ambulance ahead of them, Mulder guessed to seek out the pulmonary specialist and his medical team. Three young nurses greeted Mulder as the EMTs transferred him out of the ambulance, but he was too sick to enjoy being the center of all this lovely female attention and it didn’t take long for him to remember why he hated hospitals so much.

As soon as the nurses had Mulder inside the Emergency Department, they seemed to only have one goal in mind: to remove every single article of his clothing. Hands were all over him, unbuckling his belt and pushing his suit pants down his legs, unbuttoning his dress shirt and taking it off his shoulders and arms. He didn’t even know these women’s names, and soon his socks, shoes, and boxer briefs were stripped as well. Mulder felt thankful they at least allowed a blanket to be draped across his lap before his boxers came off. Instead of trying to get his white undershirt around the I.V., a pair of scissors came out of nowhere and it too was swiftly removed. He was then dressed in a hospital gown, the strings of which were tied around his neck and back. The nurses were all talking quickly and to each other, but none of them had actually addressed him yet. God, where was Scully?

Just as the nurses had Mulder sitting down on a hospital bed, he laid his eyes on his partner walking into the room. He wanted to call out to her, but found he couldn’t speak and tried not to panic.

“Are the X-rays ready to go?” Scully asked the blonde nurse standing closest to him.

Mulder felt slightly hurt that she had barely acknowledged his presence in the room and was speaking to the nursing staff instead.

“The orderly is on his way down,” the nurse replied. “He’ll be here any minute.”

Scully nodded and then walked over to Mulder’s bedside, taking his hand in hers. Mulder squeezed it tight, and she let out a deep, shaky breath. As they stared at each other, he wished he could speak but then realized he had no idea what he’d say if he could. Maybe it was best speech was prohibited. He knew Scully could speak just fine, but it seemed that even she couldn’t find words to say. A dense cloud of fear hung between them. Also, he realized Skinner was standing in the room. Mulder had no idea when he had gotten there, but he wished Skinner would leave so he could wrap his arms around Scully like he wanted to.

The orderly walked in to escort Mulder to the Radiology Department to have his X-rays done, with Scully accompanying them. As much as Mulder hated getting X-rays, hated submitting himself to low-level radiation poisoning, he believed it was a necessary evil in this case. Once they’d entered the Department of Radiology and Imaging, the orderly instructed Mulder that he’d need to get out of the wheelchair and lie down in order to get a clear picture of his chest. Seconds later he was lying flat on his back, and in terrible pain. A choking, suffocating burn ripped through his chest as he struggled to breathe. Mulder could just picture those little worms crawling around his lungs, sucking up anything good, like his tissue and blood, developing hard exoskeletons complete with pincers so they could ream their way through his esophagus and out of his mouth. Mulder started to feel overwhelmed with panic. God, why was Scully standing on the other side of the room?

Mulder wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep awake. The pain was excruciating and he wanted to pass out, but Scully hadn’t told him he could close his eyes yet. What seemed liked hours later, the orderly removed Mulder from the table and helped him back into the wheelchair. Mulder thought they were going back to the Emergency Room, but they got onto the elevator and rode up several floors until the doors opened up to a large sign telling him they were entering the ICU.

Skinner met them at the elevator, and they made their way to a private room, Mulder noticing that Scully maintained a respectable distance behind him. They entered the room, where the orderly and a couple nurses started to assist Mulder out of the wheelchair so as to get him up on the hospital bed. All the while, he stared at Scully standing way over on the other side of the room, her eyes wide. He could tell her mind was racing, her rigorous scientific brain going to work on the situation at hand. But Mulder didn’t give a damn that they were in a room filled with hospital staff, and not to mention Skinner. He wanted Scully right next to him, he wanted to feel her arms around him, he just wanted to close his eyes and bury his face in her breasts. Mulder was certain he was dying, that this was it. And goddammit, he didn’t want to die with her staring at him from the other side of the room.

As he was being thrust onto the hospital bed, Mulder managed to get enough air in his lungs to be able to speak one word. It didn’t take long for him to decide which word that would be.

“Scully!”

Mulder immediately started coughing, and he guessed she’d seen his 'panic face' because she rushed over to his bedside and took his hand, entwining their fingers.

“We’re going to let you rest now, Mulder. They’re going to give you something to sleep.”

He started to shake his head vigorously. “No good!” he coughed out.

She sighed, squeezed his hand, and lowered her voice to a whisper while turning her body in front of Mulder until she blocked Skinner from his view. “Mulder, I know you’re scared, but it’s going to be okay. Dr. Abraham is the pulmonary specialist here, and he’s going to perform a procedure that’ll require you to go under general anesthesia. They’re going to insert a small tube into your lungs that will act like a vacuum cleaner to get rid of the larvae before they pupate.”

Scully took her other hand and ran it over his forehead, stroking gently as her fingers brushed his hair back. In years past she had done this with the excuse of ‘checking for head trauma’ but now Mulder knew that she'd probably just wanted any excuse to touch him. God, how many years they’d wasted tiptoeing around the obvious.

“You?” was all Mulder could get out before another brief coughing spell took hold.

“Mulder, I’m not a surgeon. Dr. Abraham is going to do it.”

He shook his head, feeling panicked again. He knew Scully was a pathologist, but he also knew she could do pretty much anything she set her mind to. She could certainly be a surgeon. She was a damn good doctor, and she’s who he wanted in the operating room.

“You…,” he whispered hoarsely. “Be… there?”

Scully smiled sadly, and nodded. “Of course. Would I be anywhere else?”

Mulder’s sense of panic and fear started to dissipate a little bit.

“The nurse is going to give you some Diazepam so you can relax,” Scully said. “I’m going to go discuss your tolerance levels with the anesthesiologist, and then I’ll be right back. You better not run off on me.”

He stared at her as she winked at him, and then she was gone. Mulder wasn’t sure whether Diazepam was going to do the trick. The idea of a tube going down his throat, despite Scully calling it a ‘small’ one, which Mulder was all too familiar with the fact that most medical professionals’ calculations of size were very different from his own, was causing him a certain amount of anxiety. He wondered if Diazepam was enough, and started to wonder if it was possible to get that Demerol shit.

Apparently, the Diazepam hit was a strong one as Mulder suddenly felt it pulling him under. But the words ‘Don’t go to sleep’ in Scully’s voice kept running through his head over and over again. He didn’t want to fall asleep before she came back. He might not ever open his eyes again, and he didn’t want the last thing he ever sees to be a stale hospital room.

But then Scully was there, sitting beside him and looking down at him. One of her hands was grasping his, while her other hand stroked his forehead and brushed his hair back.

“It’s okay, Mulder. You can go to sleep now. I’ll be right here the whole time, and I’ll be here when you wake up. Everything’s going to be all right. Just close your eyes.”

As Mulder looked up into her beautiful face, her blue eyes filled with worry, the sound of her voice a soothing balm for his fears, a lullaby urging him to sleep, in that moment he wished with all his might that he could’ve given her a baby. Scully would’ve been such a good mother. And then everything went black.

Mulder felt himself drifting between sleep and wakefulness, but he didn’t want to open his eyes. There was a burning pain in his throat. Suddenly he felt someone gently take his hand and rub his fingers. He knew it was Scully. Mulder then allowed himself to wake up, and smiled weakly at her. He was alive. He could open his eyes and look at her again. He looked at her holding his hand, and then looked at her eyes. Their shade of blue was darker than normal, and he could see fear behind them.

“Mmm. It must be bad.” His voice was raspy and hoarse.

Scully gave him a small smile. “How do you feel?”

“Like a dust buster attacked me,” he replied, before coughing.

“We're looking for someone who may be able to help you. A Morley test subject by the name of Darryl Weaver.”

Ugh, that guy. “Mr. ‘E pluribus’…”

She smiled. “Yeah. Mr. Weaver seems to have some kind of tolerance or immunity, and we're hoping that once we find him we'll be able to figure out how to treat you.”

Suddenly Mulder couldn’t breathe, and he started gasping. No air was entering his lungs and he felt like he was drowning, except there was no water to be found. He felt terrified, but nothing scared him more than the panic and fear in Scully’s voice as she yelled for the doctor. Then everything went black again.

*****

At 10:20 pm on Wednesday, May 3rd, Scully was standing outside the window of Mulder’s hospital room, watching a nurse tend to him as he slept.

“Dr. Scully?” said Dr. Abraham as he approached her, handing her Mulder’s chart. “We've got him stabilized on ECMO for the moment but we're not going to be able to maintain him on it for long. Of course, you see why.”

Scully looked over the X-rays and saw that Mulder’s lungs were filled with larvae, blocking his airways and preventing the flow of oxygen into his bloodstream. “There's more now than there were six hours ago.”

Dr. Abraham nodded. “They're beginning to block the flow of blood. Our best bet is to go back in there. I think this time, we have to crack the chest.”

“No. No, I... He's too weak for thoracic surgery. He… he'd die on the table.” This can’t be happening.

“I don't know what our other options are,” Dr. Abraham replied.

Scully felt her throat constrict, and her voice cracked. “I'd say for the time being, we just wait.”

Dr. Abraham sighed. “That'll definitely kill him. Sooner or later.”

He walked away, and Scully turned to look at Mulder through the window again. From the moment she saw Mulder’s blood splattered on the palm of his hand in that autopsy bay, she completely forgot how irritated she’d been earlier that morning to find that he had already gone off somewhere without her, without telling her where or what he was doing. Ice had enveloped her heart. She felt pure terror, and absolutely horrified at what was happening. But she disengaged her feelings, suppressed those emotions, and got down to business. She barked orders at EMTs, doctors, and nurses. She supported Mulder when he needed her there with him, but all the while keeping her emotions in check, and always maintaining her professional demeanor.

The deep-suctioning technique, as repulsive as it was, worked well, but for every larva they had removed a dozen eggs had remained. Dr. Abraham had told her that his breathing would improve, but only temporarily. And then there was a beetle, inside Mulder’s oxygen mask. Pure panic set in. Scully didn’t know what to do. She could only hope Skinner would find this Darryl Weaver person, and a cure could be found to save Mulder.

With Skinner gone and Mulder’s hospital room now devoid of medical staff, Scully entered the darkened room and sat by his bedside. She pushed aside Dr. Scully and Special Agent Scully, and finally looked down at her partner with the eyes of the woman who loved him. With her professional and clinical detachment now buried, her emotions threatened to swallow her up as she took in Mulder’s rapid deterioration. It was like a physical blow. His skin was now much paler than its usual golden bronze, the shadows under his eyes looked like bruises, and pain was etched in the fine lines around his mouth and across his forehead. But worst of all, he lay there on the hospital bed limp and weak. He wasn’t protesting that he was fine and she was overreacting. He wasn’t complaining about hospitals, I.V.’s, needles, oxygen masks, or any of the other things he was always whining about when confined to a hospital bed.

Scully reached out and took his hand, rubbing the pad of her thumb over his knuckles. Mulder had such beautiful hands. They were large and strong, and his thumbs could almost touch when his hands wrapped around her waist. His fingers were long and elegant, and only slightly rough. As the thought of losing him started to suffocate her and tears began to threaten, Mulder turned his head to look at her.

“What’s up, Doc?” he hoarsely whispered.

She knew he was scared, she could see it in the green eyes staring back at her. And so he deflected with humor, making light of the situation. He may try to hide his ‘panic face’ from her in a variety of ways, but he was never very good at it.

Scully reached out to stroke his forehead, and brush his hair back.

“I wanna hear you say it,” Mulder whispered, giving her a small smile.

“What?” she asked.

He gazed at her. “You know what. Tell me.”

She sighed, and stroked his face, pausing briefly before whispering. “I love you."

Mulder nodded, giving her a small smile. “It’s nice to hear it when you’re not having an orgasm.”

“Okay,” Scully breathed, giving him a sarcastic look, rolling her eyes, and suppressing a grin.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but was overcome by a coughing fit. Scully leapt up from her seat, stroking his brow now starting to bead with sweat. She rushed into the bathroom to dampen a washcloth with cold water, and returned to sooth Mulder’s face. Each coughing spell took more and more out of him, and he was growing weaker. Scully felt helpless as she watched him struggle to gain control of his breathing.

Finally his breathing slowed, but it was labored, and she lowered herself back down in the seat at Mulder’s bedside.

“I’m tired, Scully,” he managed get out, his voice raspy.

She felt her throat constrict, and her hand was once again brushing back his hair. “I know, Mulder.”

Scully continued to stroke his forehead until he fell back asleep, her eyes frequently darting from his face to his monitor, checking his vitals. She hated being reduced to a helpless observer of Mulder’s deterioration. When Scully ran off to Africa in search of something, anything, for an answer to what was happening to Mulder, for a cure, she lay awake every night paralyzed with worry. Had Mulder gotten sicker? Would he still be alive when she returned? Would Mulder understand where she had gone, and why? Would he know that she hadn’t abandoned him? Was flying thousands of miles away from him the right decision? Would she live to regret it to her dying day? Then, and now, she could truly appreciate the agony Mulder had endured when her cancer had reached its end stage.

Mulder's fingers tightened around her hand and he coughed, opening his eyes. “You still here?”

“Where else would I be?” Scully whispered.

He nodded, a small smile spreading over his face, and then he closed his eyes again.

She watched him breathe as he lay still, asleep. Just in the last hour his breathing had become more harsh, more labored. The more he struggled, the more she felt like dying. She breathed deeply, wishing she could do it for him. It was absolutely exhausting to be helpless. She was physically and emotionally exhausted. How much longer could this go on? Why does one, or both, of them always wind up in a hospital fighting for their life? Scully was deeply committed to Mulder, and to the X-Files. What started out as his personal quest had become something for them to share. The fact that a deep love had grown between them was something wholly unexpected, and the greatest gift either of them could’ve ever asked for. But as she helplessly watched her partner dying right in front of her, she knew that this love was also a curse. Their love was strong and true and pure, and it deserved nothing less than a lifetime spent together. But the work gave them frequent reminders that this would likely never happen. At some point, one of them would be ripped from the other, one of them would be forced to live a life alone.

But was this truly their fate? Is this what all her life’s choices had led her to? To sit here and watch Mulder succumb to some fucking bugs hatching in his lungs? Was this really even happening right now? How was this possible? She felt angry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to weep. And then her cell phone started ringing.

She prayed to God it was Skinner with some good news. “Scully.”

It was indeed Skinner. “We’ve got Weaver and we’re on our way to the medical center. He’s got a bullet wound to the shoulder and he’ll need treatment. We’ll be there in less than 10 minutes.”

Thank you, Jesus! “Yes, sir. We’ll be ready.”

After hanging up her cell phone, she looked down at Mulder and saw his eyes open slightly, moss green irises with flecks of gold, devotion, trust, and tender love gazing back at her. “Don’t you dare leave me now, Mulder. You have to hold on. Do you hear me? Skinner’s on his way with Darryl Weaver. You’re going to make it. Do you understand?”

Mulder could only nod, and Scully really had no idea how much of that he understood, but she thought she saw a look of determination come over his face.

*****

Just before 3:00 am on Thursday, May 4th, Scully stood at one of the steel basins outside the operating room scrubbing her hands with sterilizing soap, rinsing away Mulder’s blood and the crushed shells of dead tobacco beetles. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t get the image of beetles pouring out of Mulder in an effort to get away from the nicotine taking hold in his system. And they were now all dead. Every last bug, larvae, and egg. Her nicotine idea worked. It killed every last one of them. But it almost killed Mulder, too.

Scully stared at her reflection in the mirror, recalling the moment he almost stopped breathing and another code blue was called. Mulder was slipping away, and his heart stopped. Words could never express what she felt in that moment she saw the flat line on his monitor. She thought her heart would stop beating as well. After Dr. Abraham took the defibrillator to Mulder’s chest twice, his heart restarted and was able to maintain a stable rhythm. His breathing became labored, but it was steady. Mulder was alive, and right now Dr. Abraham was back at the deep suction technique, removing all the dead larvae and eggs from Mulder’s lung tissue. But he’d nearly died on that operating table.

She stifled a sob, and fought back the lump growing in her throat, fought back the tears threatening to fill her eyes and brim over. Scully pushed back her emotions, buried them deep, working hard to maintain her professional exterior as she re-entered the operating room to observe the final suction procedure.

As dawn broke and the sun began to slowly rise, Scully sat next to Mulder’s hospital bed watching him sleep, holding his hand. He had to use an oxygen nasal cannula, but his breathing was exponentially better than it had been since this whole ordeal began. He would need a couple weeks of medication and breathing treatments to repair the damage, but he was expected to make a full recovery.

Mulder felt something pulling him out of the comfortable darkness, felt the pain lacerating his throat and chest. He didn’t want to wake up to the pain, he wanted to go back to sleep. But he felt something soft and warm holding his hand. Scully. He could force himself to succumb to the darkness, drift back to sleep, or he could let himself wake up and look at her face.

Scully felt her hand squeeze and her eyes widened a little as Mulder slowly turned his head to look at her. From the moment he’d coughed blood all over the palm of his hand over 12 hours ago, she’d managed to maintain a professional manner. She’d reined in her feelings, and allowed her practical rationalism and strict medical proficiency to take hold while she dealt with the situation.

But the moment Mulder woke, turned his head, and gazed over at her, a small smile spreading over his face, Scully’s tightly wound control finally broke. The fear that had gripped her heart was melting away, leaking from the corners of her eyes. Her lower lip quivered and she began to cry as Mulder’s face filled with love and tenderness. He couldn’t speak, but he pulled his hand from hers and raised it up to the back of her head, gently pulling her down until she laid her face against his chest and wept as he stroked her hair.

Mulder looked up to see Skinner approach the window of his hospital room. Skinner started to move towards the door, but Mulder gave him a hard look, shaking his head, and Skinner froze. He knew that the moment Skinner walked in there, Scully would leave his chest and stand somewhere away from him, maintain a professional distance, and she’d quickly dry her eyes and suppress her emotions while their boss stood in the room. Mulder thought that if Skinner knew what was good for him he’d keep the fuck away right now, and he stared hard at Skinner until he gave a slight nod and walked away from the window.

Soon Scully lifted her head from Mulder’s chest, not allowing herself to indulge in tears for very long, and looked at him. “I was so afraid of losing you,” she sniffled.

He nodded sadly and moved his head up towards her a little, and she leaned over to press her lips to his, giving him a brief kiss, before sitting up and wiping the tears from her face.

“Scully,” he tried to speak, but his voice was harsh and scratchy.

“Shh, Mulder. Don’t talk.”

He shook his head, he needed to say it. He knew what she did for him. Mulder swallowed, and took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

Scully smiled tenderly at him, and stroked his face. They sat there in silence for some time, gazing at one another until his eyelids grew heavy and he felt the darkness begin to pull him under. But he fought to stay awake and look at Scully.

“Go back to sleep,” she whispered. “I’m going to head over to the motel. I’m in desperate need of a hot shower and a change of clothes. But I’ll be back here when you wake up.”

Mulder nodded, and closed his eyes.

*****

On Saturday morning, May 6th, Mulder opened his eyes in the back of the taxi cab and found himself sitting outside Scully’s apartment building in Georgetown. He turned and watched her lean over and pay the driver, and they then exited the cab. After getting their duffel bags from the trunk, they made their way inside the building to Scully’s apartment. This would be Mulder’s home for the next week while he recuperated so Scully could play doctor and ensure that he took all his medication and used the nebulizer as often as he was supposed to. Mulder knew that Scully knew he was a bad patient, and probably wouldn’t do half of what he was supposed to do if left to his own devices.

Breathing treatments, antibiotics, and vitamins now took up most of Mulder’s day. He couldn’t speak and was reduced to a hoarse whisper, and sometimes that was too much for him. For the first couple days he spent the entire time in bed, but not doing any of the activities that would normally have induced him to stay in bed that long. Sex was off limits, but not for lack of desire. He’d need healthy lungs filled with air for that, as he’d quickly learned that kissing alone would send him into a coughing spell. So now Scully’s lips were off limits, too. But Mulder did the next best thing: he lay there daydreaming of Scully’s lips and hands and legs and breasts and her soft, hot, wet, tight cunt. Goddammit, he felt miserable.

On Monday evening, Mulder awoke on the couch to a darkened apartment. He walked into the bedroom and bathroom, glanced into the kitchen, but Scully was nowhere to be found. He quickly called her cell phone, but it went straight to voicemail. He then called Mrs. Scully.

“I’m sorry, who is this?” she asked, sounding confused.

“Mrs. Scully, it’s Fox Mulder,” he managed to get out hoarsely.

“Oh, my goodness, Fox. You sound horrible!”

He nodded into his cell phone. “Have you seen or heard from Scully today?”

“No, Fox, I haven’t spoken to Dana since Saturday when she got back from North Carolina. What happened to you down there?”

“Well, I got an infection in my lungs, but I’m all right now, Mrs. Scully. I’m getting better.”

“What kind of an infection? Would you like me to make you some soup? I can whip up a big batch and take it over to you?”

Mulder started to reply, but a coughing fit took over, and finally he was able to squawk some words out. “I really have to go now, Mrs. Scully. Thanks.”

He quickly hung up the phone and sat on the couch, wondering where Scully was and helplessly worrying. Mulder didn’t know what he was worried about, he was sure she was fine. But he didn’t like waking up to find she was gone. He knew it was childish, but he wanted her there whenever he woke up. Mulder got up off the couch and wandered into the kitchen, walking over to the refrigerator. There was a note attached to the door with a magnet.

“Mulder – we ran out of a few things. Gone to the store. Be back soon. I love you, S.”

He grabbed the small note from the door, running his thumb over the words she’d only spoken a very few amount of times since that night he’d returned from England. More often than not, she instead told him in a hundred different unspoken ways throughout the day how much she loved him. Mulder knew Scully was not overly demonstrative, and even he'd spoken the words very seldom over the past few weeks. They didn’t need to, really. They knew how deep their feelings ran. The words didn’t need to be spoken regularly, or often, as if they needed to be reminded of how they felt. Most of their personal communication went unspoken, just like it had always been. But to see the words written down in Scully’s handwriting, so natural, so casual, caused a lump to grow in Mulder’s throat and tears pricked his eyes.

At this moment Scully walked in through the door, carrying grocery bags into the kitchen. She saw Mulder standing there, his ‘panic face’ written all over him.

“Mulder, what’s the matter?”

He quickly swallowed, his voice hoarse. “I woke up, and you were gone.”

Scully sighed, smiling. “Didn’t you get my note?”

Mulder waved the note in his hand. “Now, yeah.”

He then folded the note and shoved it inside his pocket, before helping Scully put away the groceries.

Over the course of the week, Mulder eventually graduated from Jell-O, ice cream, and mashed potatoes to more substantial food. Mrs. Scully did indeed bring over a large pot of homemade chicken noodle soup, and she didn’t seem at all surprised to find her daughter and her daughter’s co-worker hanging around the kitchen in their pajamas. Mulder also took his medicine and stuck the nebulizer in his mouth faithfully, exactly when and how often he was supposed to. But all week long he found himself craving a cigarette. He’d taken up smoking when at Oxford, but that was only socially whenever he went out drinking with Phoebe and her friends. By the time he graduated from the FBI Academy, social smoking had become a regular daily habit. When Diana left him he decided to quit, wanting to change as much as possible about his life. He’d spent a miserable two months breaking the habit, and Mulder had been thankful to once again call himself a nonsmoker by the time his 30th birthday rolled around. That was almost nine years ago, and he now suddenly found himself wanting a cigarette. Badly.

But smoking was now more than just a nasty, unhealthy habit. Smoking reminded Mulder of that black-lunged son of a bitch. To smoke now would be morally abhorrent, it would be a betrayal of himself, of everything he stood for, a betrayal of Scully. He knew she wouldn’t tolerate it for one second, and Mulder had enough self-preservation to stop himself from running out to the store and bringing a pack of cigarettes into her apartment. But his body’s cravings were now engaging in an intense battle with his mental fortitude, something he was managing to keep from Scully’s knowledge.

On Friday, May 12th, the doctor he saw at Georgetown Memorial Hospital cleared Mulder to go back to work as long as he remained sitting down at his desk in the office for the next week. Having been cleared for work, Mulder happily spent the weekend making Scully moan and come as often as possible. This not only satisfied his pent-up desire, but it kept his mouth busy and his cigarette cravings beaten back.

But unfortunately, on Monday morning, the 15th, Mulder couldn’t stop himself from picking up a pack of cigarettes on his way to FBI headquarters after having gone home to his own apartment in Alexandria to shower and dress for work. He walked into his basement office, and tossed the pack inside his desk, unable to give in and open it. The inner battle between his mind and his body was still raging.


	72. "Well, you know, sometimes truth can be stranger than fiction."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully get invited to attend the Hollywood screening of _The Lazarus Bowl. ___
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of the episode "Brand X" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Steven Maeda & Greg Walker. The dialog and premise of the episode "Hollywood A.D." does not belong to me either, it was written by that magnificent bastard, David Duchovny. They belong to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Placebo – “Loud Like Love”
> 
> Love on an atom, love on a cloud  
> To see the birth of all that isn't now  
> Can you imagine a love that is so proud?  
> It never has to question why or how  
> Total abandon, the love in my dreams  
> When I wake up I'm soaking in my sheets
> 
> Breathe, breathe  
> Believe, believe, believe, believe
> 
> For all of our youth  
> We have craved them  
> Their beauty and their truth
> 
> Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe  
> Believe, believe, believe, believe  
> Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe  
> Believe, believe  
> That we are loud like
> 
> Love on an atom, love on a cloud  
> To see the birth of all that isn't now  
> Can you imagine a love that is so proud?  
> It never has to question why or how
> 
> For all of our youth  
> We have craved them  
> Their beauty and their truth  
> So we name them  
> And somehow they pull us through  
> We have craved them  
> For all of our youth
> 
> Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe  
> Believe, believe, believe, believe
> 
> We are loud like love  
> We are loud like love  
> We are loud like love  
> We are loud like love...

Just before 9:00 am on Monday morning, May 15th, Scully walked into the basement office to find no one sitting at Mulder’s desk. But as she approached it, she turned to see Mulder sitting in what he once dubbed ‘her area’ in the back. He was sitting at the table which held the computer she used, her wall-mounted X-ray light box illuminated behind his head.

“Hey. Good to be back?”

Mulder turned to face her before speaking, his voice still raspy. “Beats the alternative.”

She stepped closer to him. “Well, you'll be interested to know that Morley Tobacco has subpoenaed all of our files on the case. They seem extremely interested in your recovery.”

“What about Darryl Weaver?” he asked.

“He's, uh, well enough to have been moved to the hospital ward at Raleigh Correctional.”

“It was the nicotine itself that was keeping him alive?” asked Mulder.

Scully started to explain. “Well, his fingertips were stained yellow with it. He was a four-pack-a-day smoker, far heavier than any of the focus group members who died. You know, nicotine is extremely poisonous. It's actually one of the oldest known insecticides.”

Mulder smiled. “It's good for killing tobacco beetles.”

She nodded. “Well, once we loaded your system up with enough of it, it acted as a sort of chemotherapy. Except it almost stopped your breathing at the same time.”

“That's not all it did,” Mulder replied, getting up from the table and walking over to his desk. He then opened the drawer and held up an unopened pack of Morley cigarettes. “I bought these on the way to work.”

Scully stared at him, her voice ripe with shocked disapproval. “You're not going to start smoking.”

“Well, they say the addiction is stronger than heroin,” he responded, smelling the cigarette pack.

She couldn’t believe he was serious. “Mulder…”

He hesitated, pausing, and then dropped the pack into the trashcan.

Scully nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Well, Skinner's waiting for us in his office.”

“I'll be right up,” Mulder rasped.

She looked at him a moment, feeling a slight sense of suspicion, then nodded and left the office. Mulder was by her side before the elevator doors opened, and they stepped on together. Once Scully pushed the ‘4’ button, the elevator started to ascend through the building. On the first floor, some agents and administrative staff entered the elevator. Two male agents in their mid to late 20’s elbowed one another upon sight of Mulder and Scully.

“Cowboy up!” one of them called out to Mulder, and they both started laughing.

Scully gave Mulder a confused look, and he shook his head at her, shrugging his shoulders. The agents departed the elevator once it stopped on the second floor. As more agents and other staff walked on or off the elevator as it stopped on the third floor, more shouts of ‘Cowboy up!’ were thrown Mulder’s way. She thought that sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place where the phrase came from. Scully looked up at Mulder again and saw him grimacing, and shaking his head as he tilted to stare at the ceiling. On the fourth floor, the doors opened again and they stepped off the elevator.

As they walked down the hallway towards Skinner’s office, Agents Cole and Brewer were heading their way, walking towards them. A huge grin erupted on Sam Cole’s face as he caught sight of Mulder and Scully.

“Cowboy up!” Sam laughed, approaching them. “Man, that was awesome! I can’t believe you two were on _Cops!”_

Scully groaned. She couldn’t believe it. “That really aired on television?”

Sam nodded, smiling. “Yeah, on Saturday night. It was hilarious.”

Mulder sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“Aww, come on, Mulder,” Sam said. “It wasn’t all that bad. You didn’t come off too crazy. That was probably one of the best episodes of _Cops_ I’ve ever seen.”

Agent Brewer crossed her arms, giving her partner an impatient stare. “Sam, we have to be at the Fairfax County Police Department in 30 minutes.”

Sam turned quickly to look at her. “Oh, right, right. Anyways, it was nice running into you two.” Agents Cole and Brewer then continued on their way down the hallway, Sam calling out one last “Cowboy up,” laughing as he walked away.

Five minutes later, Mulder and Scully were seated in front of Skinner’s desk as he finished signing several documents before handing them over to his secretary, Kimberly.

“How are you feeling, Agent Mulder?” Skinner asked.

“I feel a lot better than I sound,” he rasped.

Skinner nodded, and then sighed. “I want to thank you and Agent Scully for assisting me with that case. Of course, I had no idea something like that could happen.”

“I don’t think anyone could have imagined that, sir,” Scully replied, re-crossing her legs and running her hand over her black skirt.

Skinner sighed again, and gave her a slight nod of the head. They then went on to discuss the federal case involving Morley Tobacco, their genetically-altered tobacco plants which caused this whole fiasco, and Darryl Weaver. Forty-five minutes later, as the discussion was coming to a close, Skinner pulled out two airline tickets from his top drawer and placed them on the edge of his desk facing Mulder and Scully.

“Got a phone call from my old friend Wayne Federman,” Skinner said. “I’m sure you remember him.”

Mulder groaned. Scully sighed, nodding. Almost 18 months ago, when Mulder and Scully had finally been freed of Kersh and were back working the X-Files under Skinner, they’d worked a case involving a Catholic priest, Cardinal O’Fallon, and a forger named Micah Hoffman. Mulder and Scully had had to put up with Federman, this Hollywood ‘writer-slash-producer,’ following them around while they worked the case. Like most of their cases, it wasn’t exactly solved completely.

They’d also ended up with receiving a suspension from work, which ended up being more like a vacation as they went out to California to watch the movie being filmed. That experience certainly had been interesting and Mulder had thoroughly enjoyed himself, despite being of the opinion that the filmmaking process seemed a bit ridiculous. Being put up in that expensive, swanky hotel had been nice, though.

One of Scully’s fondest memories of working that case had been spending some time in the basement office with Mulder’s friend from the University of Maryland, Chuck Burks. She was fascinated by Chuck’s laser and sonic equipment that he used to study the clay bowl found in the church crypt. When she'd put on the headphones and listened to the ethereal oscillating tone emitting from the bowl, she was amazed. As she’d started to make her way out of the office, leaving Chuck to work on deciphering the different sounds vibrating from the bowl, he’d turned to Scully and said _“I can see why Mulder digs you.”_ Even now, sitting in front of Skinner’s desk, the memory still made her smile.

“The screening of the film Wayne wrote, _The Lazarus Bowl_ , is being held this Friday night in Los Angeles,” Skinner continued. “He’s sent two complimentary plane tickets for the both of you, so you can attend. He wants you to call his assistant to arrange your accommodations while you’re out there, also complimentary.” Skinner then placed a business card on top of the tickets. “Pretty good timing, I’d say, as I think the two of you could use a break after what happened down there in North Carolina.”

Mulder and Scully stared at Skinner. An excited smile broke out over Scully’s face as she turned to look at Mulder, who was reaching for the plane tickets and business card. He noticed the seats were First Class. After being excused from Skinner’s office, they made their way down to the basement. Mulder sat down at his desk, thankful the trash had been taken away along with the pack of cigarettes, while Scully took the chair facing him. He then got on the phone.

“Angst Farm Films, this is Jessica. How may I direct your call?”

“Uh, yeah, I’d like to speak with Wayne Federman’s assistant,” Mulder said hoarsely, looking back down at the business card. “Uh, Kevin Cooper.”

“Sure, please hold,” the receptionist said.

After about 30 seconds, the line picked up. “Kevin Cooper.”

Mulder cleared his throat, his voice still raspy, and then thrust the phone at Scully. She grabbed the receiver. “Um, hi, Mr. Cooper. This is Special Agent Dana Scully, with the FBI, calling from Washington.”

“Oh, my goodness, Agent Scully! Yes, I’ve been expecting your call. Did you get the plane tickets we sent?”

“Yes, yes we did. Thank you.”

“Okay, great. We need to put you and Agent Mulder in a hotel out here. Don’t worry about that either, it’s on the studio’s dime. I believe last year we put you up in the Beverly Ernesto Hotel, but unfortunately that's all booked up this weekend. So, we're going to book you into The Ritz-Carlton. Will that be all right?"

Scully smiled. “Yes, I'm sure that'll be just fine.”

“Great. Will you still need two rooms?”

She looked at Mulder, and smirked. “No. We’ll be staying in the same room.”

“Hmm, okay, let’s see here… Uh… how does a junior suite sound? For the whole weekend?”

Scully gazed at Mulder, smiling wide. “It sounds perfect.”

“Great! We look forward to seeing you at the screening. Your tickets and other information will be waiting for you inside the suite.”

“Okay, and thank you again.” She hung up the receiver, grinning at her partner.

Mulder leaned back in his office chair, entwining his hands behind his head. “California, here we come.”

*****

On Friday morning, May 19th, Scully stepped out of the shower and walked over to the bathroom scale on the floor against the wall, stepping on. She heaved a sigh when she saw she’d gained two pounds since she’d last weighed herself a month ago. She knew she’d felt abdominal bloating all week, and she supposed there was the proof. The previous evening she’d snapped at Mulder over how he was loading up her dishwasher, and he’d muttered “PMS” under his breath as he’d left the kitchen. She’d glared at his departing back, but maybe he’d been right.

After dressing into a black pantsuit and pale yellow button down blouse, she walked into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee and found Mulder standing over the stove. As he stirred the scrambled eggs, Scully couldn’t help but grimace as she felt her gag reflex flare up. The smell and just the idea of eggs turned her stomach.

Mulder turned to look at her, glad his voice was now back to normal and he didn’t have that hoarse rasp anymore. “Hey, Scully. You want some eggs?”

Still grimacing, she shook her head. “I’ll just stick to coffee, thanks.”

“Come on,” he replied, smiling. “You love eggs.”

Scully poured herself a mug and added cream as she watched him scoop out some of the eggs onto a plate, adding salt and pepper. Her gag reflex still flaring, she quickly left the kitchen to sit in the living room and watch the news while she drank her coffee. Mulder quickly ate the eggs while standing in the kitchen, and then returned to the bedroom where he changed into a pair of brown Dockers and navy blue button down shirt, rolling up the sleeves to his elbows. He then grabbed his and Scully’s duffel bags along with the garment bag containing her dress and his tuxedo, and carried them out to set them next to her front door.

At 9:30 am, the taxi they’d called for pulled up in front of Scully’s apartment building and they made their way to Washington Dulles International Airport. While sitting at their gate, waiting to board their flight, Mulder watched Scully eat a 2-ounce bag of salt and vinegar potato chips.

“You’re still on that kick, huh?” he asked, cringing. “You were eating those all week at work. I doubt there’s any left in the vending machine.”

She shrugged, chewing contentedly. “Two weeks, actually. You just weren’t in the office last week. I can’t help it. I’ve been craving salt.”

Mulder shook his head. “Well, you better brush your teeth before your mouth comes anywhere near me.”

“How about I just forget about any such ideas all weekend long?” Scully replied dryly, shooting him a sardonic eyebrow.

He sighed, staring at her. She was definitely PMS-ing. Her hormones had been all over the place for the past week. One night she’d be all over him, the next night she wouldn’t want him to touch her. The other night he'd returned to her apartment from his run and found her sitting on her couch, crying over the end to _Steel Magnolias_ , and was shocked to find Scully in tears over a movie. He'd never seen that before. He figured it had to be PMS. Mulder then went back to reading today’s _New York Times_ he’d picked up in one of the airport shops.

Not long after this, Mulder and Scully boarded United flight 1170, nonstop to Los Angeles, getting into their First Class seats. She sat next to the window, with Mulder on her left. As Scully watched him reading the newspaper, gazing into his profile, she thought of the junior suite they'd have for the weekend and felt her libido awaken. She brought her hand up to his forearm, lightly brushing her fingertips up and down his skin. Mulder turned to look at her, taking in the slight flush to Scully’s face, her tongue darting out to lick her lips, and her dilating pupils.

“I can’t wait ‘til we get to the hotel,” she whispered.

Mulder smirked, nodding. “Care to join the Mile High Club, Scully?”

Her facial expression then turned serious. “No.”

“You mean you don’t want to fuck in a public bathroom? I’m shocked.” He laughed, and returned to the paper.

Scully rolled her eyes, grinning, and snaked her arm around Mulder’s, crooking their elbows and resting her hand over his forearm. She then leaned her head against his shoulder, and tried to rest for the remainder of the flight.

At 2:00 pm local time, their plane landed at Los Angeles International Airport and as they made their way past baggage claim to the Arrivals doors, they caught sight of a middle-aged man with graying blond hair in a suit holding up a sign that read “MULDER and SCULLY.” They glanced at each other, smirking, and then headed over to the man with the sign.

“Hi there,” he greeted them, holding out his hand for them to shake. “Rob Morgan. I’ll be your driver for tonight.”

Mulder and Scully gave him a surprised look, and then handed over their luggage. They then followed him outside the doors to the black limo parked on the curb. Rob opened the back door for them, Mulder and Scully climbing inside the limo, before closing the door behind them and placing their luggage in the trunk. After Rob got into the driver’s seat, he pushed the button to bring down the partition. Mulder and Scully watched it go down, and soon the driver could be seen behind the steering wheel.

“I’ve been told you’re staying at The Ritz-Carlton,” Rob said.

“Yes, that’s correct,” Scully replied, still surprised to find herself sitting in the back seat of a limo.

Rob nodded. “Okay. I’ll have you there in about 20 minutes. Enjoy the ride.”

The partition was then raised, Mulder and Scully settling back into the seat and watching the city outside the windows. As Scully languidly ran her hand up and down Mulder’s thigh, he felt impatient for the 20 minutes to fly by as quickly as possible.

*****

After arriving at The Ritz-Carlton and Rob unloaded their luggage from the trunk, handing the bags off to a bellhop, he informed them that he would be back at 5:00 pm to take them to the screening. Once Mulder and Scully checked in at the front desk and received the keys to their room, they made their way to the 24th floor and entered the suite where they’d be staying until Sunday.

The suite contained a welcome foyer with a glossy white armoire, refreshment center with coffee maker and honor bar, large King bed, an office alcove in the bedroom area with a new flat-panel TV, panoramic views of the city, mountains, and ocean, luxury bathroom with walk-in shower, separate bathtub, and plush bathrobes.

After taking her toiletry bag into the bathroom and setting it down on the sink, Scully remembered what Mulder quipped at the airport and rolled her eyes, but still took out her toothbrush and toothpaste, quickly brushing her teeth. She walked back out to the bedroom to find Mulder hanging the garment bag up in the closet, and started removing her black suit jacket.

“Care to join me in the shower?” Scully asked.

Mulder turned to look at her unbuttoning her short-sleeved pale yellow blouse. “Please take my gun and shoot me in the head if I ever say ‘no’ to that question.”

She grinned, and in seconds Mulder had crossed the room and was helping her with the blouse. As Scully’s fingers came up to his chest, unbuttoning his navy blue shirt, Mulder’s lips were on hers, fervently kissing her. Their remaining articles of clothing were quickly removed as they made their way to the luxury bathroom.

Mulder turned on the water and when it reached a comfortable temperature, he pulled Scully closer and lifted her in his arms. While they’d managed to work around their height difference in the bedroom fairly quickly and this no longer seemed to be a real factor anymore, they’d yet to try a shower and Mulder saw that this could be tricky.

He carried Scully into the shower, passionately kissing her until she was shaking with need, and then he let her down. Her clit throbbed and ached, wetness poured out from her hot center. Desiring him more than ever, Scully raised her head and gripped Mulder to her body, the hot water flowing over them and steam rising around them as his hard cock prodded her belly. He groaned and captured her lips with his, his tongue stroking the softness inside her mouth. Their bodies were warm, wet, and pressed against each other as their hearts raced, their desire quickly turning into a raging fire.

Mulder then lathered Scully with soap, gliding his hands over her shoulders, arms, breasts, and her slightly rounded abdomen, over her ass, down her legs. The feeling of the soap under Mulder’s hands made Scully’s body writhe in pleasure that was so intense, she was surprised at the heightened sensations. After taking the shampoo to her hair, Mulder moved Scully under the water stream to rinse the soap off her body as she washed her hair.

As she applied conditioner, his mouth started to move down her body, and as he greedily suckled a taut, pink nipple, she thought her knees might give out. Mulder’s lips continued moving farther down her body, his tongue dipping into her navel, until he was kneeling in front of her and his fingers were spreading her wet, swollen folds. Having rinsed the conditioner out, Scully’s hands went to Mulder’s hair as his mouth enclosed around her engorged clit. His index and middle fingers thrust into her cunt, stroking the soft flesh inside until he found the spongy pad in her front wall. Within moments, Mulder tasted Scully’s orgasm as she moaned and pulsated around him.

Mulder then quickly stood up, his cock aching painfully with need, and lifted Scully into his arms, holding her close as the hot water poured over their bodies. He allowed her a couple minutes to come down from her high, and then stepped back to brace himself against the wall of the shower. Mulder let Scully slide down his body, and then grabbing hold of her ass, he lowered her onto his erection. They both moaned in pleasure, and Scully clung to him as he growled and kissed her neck. She moved with him and Mulder thrust fast, her muscles contracting around every hard inch of him.

Scully squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the sweet tension coiling tight at her center, and as soon as she heard Mulder groaning and swearing explicit words of passion, the tension broke and she was crying out in ecstasy. Scully’s cries and clenching muscles brought Mulder to his own climax, and his loud moans reverberated against the shower walls as he filled her with his hot seed. Scully draped herself around Mulder’s shoulders, kissing his neck and caressing him. Her giggling soon followed, and he then lowered her to stand on the shower floor. They finished washing up, grinning at each other the entire time.

*****

Later on, Mulder walked out of the bathroom dressed in his tuxedo to see Scully standing in her knee-length, figure-hugging sleeveless black dress, black heels, and with a black band pulling her hair back. As she turned to look at him, he thought she seemed to be glowing.

“You look so beautiful,” he said, gazing at her.

“Thank you,” she replied, her eyes twinkling at him. “So do you.”

Mulder chuckled, shaking his head, and Scully smiled.

Just before 5:00 pm, they left their hotel room and took the elevator down to the lobby. After they were greeted by their driver, Rob, they got into the limo and headed towards the Darryl Zanuck Theater on the 20th Century Fox lot in Hollywood. Upon arrival, they were shocked at all the people milling about. Women in fancy dresses and men in tuxedos walked around while photographers and reporters with video cameras talked to them.

Mulder and Scully stared at each other. “How about we skip those pictures and press people?” he asked her emphatically.

“Sounds good to me,” she replied, nodding.

As they started to walk away from the limo, he grabbed onto her hand, and they quickly walked down the red carpet as actors paused to have their picture taken.

"None of these adoring fans and photographers are screaming for us, Scully," Mulder said with phony sadness.

"Do you want me to scream for you, Mulder?" she asked, arching a seductive eyebrow at him.

He stared at her, his eyes widening slightly, and he squeezed her hand as he felt blood rush to his groin. And then a familiar voice called out to them.

“Agent Mulder! Agent Scully!”

They froze, and turned to see Wayne Federman standing with Skinner, also in a tuxedo, next to Gary Shandling and Téa Leoni. Mulder inwardly groaned, and Scully sighed. They then walked over to the group standing in front of some photographers, where Federman became insistent that they get some pictures of Mulder and Scully along with their actor counterparts. After a few camera flashes, Mulder grabbed Scully’s hand and they walked inside the theater.

Throughout the film, Mulder and Scully exchanged pointed, sarcastic looks and eyerolls at the ridiculousness of _The Lazarus Bowl_. She grew increasingly uncomfortable, and he grew increasingly annoyed, at the tone of suggestiveness in all the scenes between the ‘Scully’ on the screen and Richard Gere, who was playing ‘Skinner.’ And then suddenly they found themselves staring at the ‘Mulder’ and ‘Scully’ on the big screen, making out inside a coffin. It seemed to go on forever.

Scully stared at the screen in horror, before glancing over at the look of shock on her partner’s face. Mulder was in disbelief. He wanted to strangle Wayne Federman. This movie in no way, shape, or form gave any credence to the X-Files, and it certainly portrayed his partnership with Scully as something pathetic and trite. This movie didn’t even come close to portraying the bond he and Scully had, not that Mulder had really expected the film to do so. At first he couldn’t believe Skinner was actually enjoying this, but as the movie went on the more he could believe it.

Mulder turned to Scully, but he didn’t even know what to say and he dropped his head, sighing in defeat. And then he watched the onscreen ‘Scully’ tell the ‘Mulder’ that she didn’t even love him back. She was in love with ‘Skinner.’ What the fuck?

“That's it, Scully, I can't take it anymore,” Mulder said loudly after he stood up from his seat.

“Shh, Mulder, sit down,” Scully replied. She didn’t want to watch this shitty movie either, but felt that they should at least show their gratitude for the invitation, and not to mention the hotel suite and limo, by remaining in their seats until the movie was over.

She then watched helplessly as he walked away up the aisle. She turned her head to see Skinner had been watching them. He shook his head, and Scully shrugged weakly. She then watched this young starlet-looking girl kiss Skinner on the cheek. Oh, brother.

After the movie came to its ridiculous, over-the-top conclusion, with the onscreen ‘Mulder’ confessing to the ‘Scully’ that they were much better off as friends and then she made out with Richard Gere as the credits rolled, Scully quickly made her way out of the theater and got her jacket from the coat-check room. As she turned around, she found herself face to face with the real Skinner.

“The movie was great, wasn’t it?” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

Scully replied with some kind of non-committal noise, nodding her head.

“Well, I want you and Agent Mulder to enjoy yourselves tonight,” Skinner said, opening his wallet and pulling out an FBI-issued credit card. “Take this and have some fun.”

“Wow, thank you, sir,” Scully said, taking the card. This was totally unexpected.

“You’re staying in The Ritz also, correct? What room? That way I can get the card back from you in the morning.”

Scully nodded. “I’m staying in room 2442.” She then heard the sound of her beeper going off in her jacket pocket, pulling it out to see the number was from headquarters back in D.C. Skinner nodded and walked away as Scully turned her cell phone on and called the Bureau to answer her page.

Later, once she’d ascertained that Mulder was nowhere inside the Darryl Zanuck Theater, Scully started walking around the 20th Century Fox studio lot looking for him. She eventually found him sitting on a fake grassy hill of a graveyard movie set. He was holding a plastic ‘Lazarus Bowl’ of popcorn, eating rather morosely. Scully smirked, turning on one of the big oscillating fans, and pointed it towards Mulder. He looked up at her, and then she turned the fan away from him.

“Been looking all over for you,” she said, walking over to him.

“They got it so wrong, Scully,” said Mulder sadly. He still couldn’t get over how the movie portrayed their partnership. He still wanted to throttle Federman for writing his love for Scully as one-sided.

She sighed and sat down next to him, taking some of his popcorn. “I got a page from the Washington Bureau. Micah Hoffman was murdered tonight. Murdered in his own home by Cardinal O'Fallon, who then hanged himself. A murder-suicide.”

“It's Jesus and Judas, Scully.”

“Wow. It's all over now.”

She thought of Hoffman's last words to her and Mulder: _"I know you think I've gone insane, but anyone who has seen the truth is seen to be insane. You know that so well, Fox. And you, Dana... since you used your faith like a knife to cut out my heart, it is with you that I leave my heart for safekeeping."_ Scully wondered what had transpired in the last 16 months to suddenly drive O’Fallon to murder Hoffman now. Maybe it was the knowledge that this god-awful movie was being released.

Mulder shook his head. “No, no, it's just beginning. Hoffman and O'Fallon were these complicated, flawed, beautiful people and now they'll just be remembered as jokes because of this movie. The character based on O'Fallon is listed in the credits as ‘Cigarette-Smoking Pontiff.’ How silly is that?”

Scully nodded, slightly amused. “Pretty silly.”

“Yeah, what about us? How are we going to be remembered now 'cause of this movie?”

“Well, hopefully the movie will tank.” The last thing she needed was to receive perplexed messages on her answering machine from family members and friends about this damn movie, much like the messages she’d received all week concerning her appearance on _Cops._ She’d felt mortified.

“What about all the dead people who are forever silent and can't tell their stories anymore?” Mulder asked. “They're all going to have to rely on Hollywood to show the future how we lived and it'll all become... oversimplified and trivialized and Cigarette-Smoking Pontificized and become as plastic and meaningless as this stupid plastic Lazarus Bowl.”

Scully felt amused and thought Mulder was over-thinking this way too much. “I think the dead are beyond caring what people think about them. Hopefully we can adopt the same attitude.” Suppressing a laugh, she smiled at him. “You do know that there aren't real dead people out there, right? That this is a movie set?”

“The dead are everywhere, Scully.”

“Well, we're alive. And we're relatively young. And Skinner was so tickled by the movie…”

Mulder shot her the side-eye. “I bet he was.”

Scully chose to ignore that comment. “That he has given us a Bureau credit card to use for the evening.”

She held up the credit card and started giggling. Mulder smiled at her.

“Come on,” she said, wrapping her hand around his bicep.

After standing up, and Scully still hanging on to Mulder’s arm, they ran down the steep slope of the hill to a path and started walking toward the exit.

Scully thought she had a good idea of what might’ve annoyed him so much about the movie. “Mulder, I have something to confess.”

“What's that?” he asked.

“I'm in love with Associate Producer Walter Skinner.”

They both laughed, and Mulder dumped the half-eaten bowl of popcorn on top of a small statue's head.

“Oh… me, too,” he said.

Scully reached to hold Mulder’s hand, and he held hers in his palm. They then walked out past the moonlit backdrop of the movie set.

*****

Mulder was still holding onto Scully’s hand as they walked up to their limo parked in front of the theater, only letting go to get into the back seat of the car as Rob opened the door for them. Mulder slid into the back seat next to Scully, and she pulled out the credit card again.

“So, Mulder, where are we gonna spend it?” she asked, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

“You hungry, Scully?”

She nodded vigorously. “I’m starving.”

He smiled, and turned to the driver. “Hey, Rob. We want to get some dinner. Somewhere special.”

“I know just the place, sir.” The driver grinned at them, and then raised the partition.

Scully leaned into Mulder, wrapping her arm around his waist. “You look really good in that tux.”

He smirked, feeling slightly embarrassed. He threw his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. Scully truly looked beautiful tonight. She was always beautiful, but he thought she looked especially stunning. He smiled down at the glow emanating from her face and then bent his head to press his lips to hers, both sighing contentedly.

Fifteen minutes later, they were driving down Hollywood Boulevard and then came to a stop outside the back door to The Musso & Frank Grill. The driver hopped out and walked around to open the car door, helping Scully out of the limo. After Mulder stepped out and onto the curb, Rob nodded and said “I’ll be parked in the lot back here, whenever you’re ready to go. You two kids have fun.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Mulder chuckled, before grabbing onto Scully’s hand, entwining their fingers, and walking towards the restaurant door.

Inside the restaurant, they were greeted with décor and ambiance that seemed to have been taken right from the golden age of Hollywood: the red booths, the long mahogany bar. After checking her jacket, Mulder and Scully were able to be seated in a private corner table, and soon after a waiter appeared. He was dressed in black pants and a red jacket with black lapel, along with a black bowtie over his white button down dress shirt, and his hair was as white as his shirt and the rims of his glasses as black as his suit.

“Hi, my name is Louie and I’ll be your server,” he smiled, winking at Mulder and Scully. “It’s my job to make you feel like Hollywood royalty tonight, even if you’re not.”

Scully liked him immediately. There was something very grandfatherly about him.

“So, what can I get you to drink?” Louie asked.

Just as Mulder was about to speak, Scully gave the waiter a sweet smile and said, “We’ll take your most expensive bottle of champagne, the colder the better.”

“You got it,” Louie replied, and walked away.

“I can’t wait until Skinner sees this bill,” Mulder grinned.

Scully chuckled, nodding her head and picking up her menu. “Are you going to get the most expensive item?”

“Oh, you bet your ass I am,” he replied. She laughed.

A few moments later, Louie returned with the champagne and uncorked the bottle expertly, before pouring a little into a crystal flute and handing it to Scully to sample. “It’s wonderful,” she told him. Louie then poured her glass full and did the same for Mulder.

“You don’t have tofurkey on the menu, do you?” he asked Louie.

Scully snorted, as the waiter looked at Mulder in confusion.

“I have no idea what that is, sir,” Louie replied.

“That’s a good thing,” Mulder said. “I like this place already.”

The waiter then took their orders, Scully getting the broiled lobster tail and Mulder ordering the filet mignon, before walking away.

She shook her head at her partner. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

He grinned at her, sliding his left hand over the table to play with her fingers.

After Mulder’s appetizer of French onion soup and Scully’s $20 salad of romaine lettuce, avocado, and artichoke hearts, as well as more champagne, had been consumed, they were feeling pretty warm and fuzzy by the time their entrées got to the table. Throughout their meal, Scully’s right foot had left its shoe behind on the floor and planted itself at Mulder’s calf. By the end of their dinner, they’d drunk the entire bottle of champagne and were now enjoying some hot coffee.

“You still in love with Skinner?” asked Mulder.

“Are you?” Scully replied, smirking.

As they gazed at one another while sipping their coffee, Mulder brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles, before turning her hand and pressing his lips to her palm. Scully sighed.

“That damn movie got it so wrong,” he whispered.

They locked eyes again, holding an intense gaze, and then Scully said softly, “Let’s get out of here.”

*****

After paying the check with the Bureau credit card, they retrieved Scully’s jacket and made their way out the back door and to the parking lot. A 10-minute ride in the limo got them parked in front of La Brava, a vintage Prohibition-themed speakeasy bar. Once they exited the limo, the doorman out front let Mulder and Scully enter, and then they walked up a flight of stairs to a tiny room with a desk and a closet. The hostess behind the desk took Scully’s jacket and then opened the closet doors to the dimly-lit La Brava. As they walked through the doors, it seemed to Mulder and Scully that they’d stepped into Havana, Cuba, complete with the smell of rum and cigars, as well as a live band and sexy dancers.

Once they’d climbed another set of stairs to the second floor of La Brava and used Skinner’s Bureau credit card to order another expensive bottle of champagne, they stood by a small circular table in the corner, which was situated next to the railing and overlooked the floor below with the live Cuban band and dancers. A server brought over their champagne bottle in a silver ice bucket and two glass flutes, setting them down on the table.

Mulder and Scully spent the next hour drinking champagne and watching the band. As she wrapped her arms around his waist and he lowered his head to capture her lips, kissing her passionately, he almost wished Skinner and Federman would walk by and see them at it. It would serve those bastards right.

“You still in love with Skinner?” Mulder whispered.

“Maybe, but I think I could be convinced otherwise,” Scully replied, her blue eyes growing darker as she gazed up at him.

He brought his lips down to lightly brush against hers. “I think I want to spend the rest of the night convincing you.”

Not long after this, Mulder and Scully were once again seated in the back seat of the limo.

“Where to now?” asked the driver. “How about some dessert?”

“Dessert is back at the hotel, Rob,” Scully replied.

Rob nodded, and raised the partition between them.

“I’m in the mood for something sweet,” Scully whispered, her hand slipping around Mulder’s waist.

He turned his face towards her, and their breath mingled. Scully gazed at his mouth as he raised his hand to trace the black headband in her hair. He’d never seen her in something so… girlish.

“I really like this,” Mulder whispered, as his fingers moved over the headband through her silky hair to the soft skin on the back of her neck. He then nuzzled the side of her face and she shut her eyes.

“Mulder…,” she breathed.

As his nose reached the corner of her mouth, he whispered, “You’re so soft, Scully.” Mulder then lowered his mouth to the hollow of her throat, and she stared at one of the veins pulsing in his neck. Scully then pressed her lips to it, and he moaned softly as his fingers began to stroke the back of her neck. As the driver took a sharp turn, Scully’s body slid into Mulder’s and his arms enveloped her, massaging her back as she suckled his neck.

“You still in love with Skinner?” he whispered.

“What do you think?” she replied.

A few minutes later they arrived at their hotel, and they made their way up to the 24th floor and inside their suite. The city of L.A. shone through the window, bathing the bedroom area in soft, dim light. Mulder slowly unzipped Scully’s black dress, and she let it fall to the floor by the bed. He gazed at her black lace bra, the black thong and garter holding up her thigh-high nylons. She undid his bowtie and unbuttoned his tuxedo shirt, sliding it off his shoulders and down his arms after tossing aside his jacket. Scully’s hands then went to the tuxedo pants, and soon those also fell to the floor beside the bed as his hands ran slowly behind her back and unfastened her bra.

His gaze slowly traveled over her, and she couldn’t keep from studying him as intently as he was her. Mulder’s body was magnificent, radiating energy and vitality. Gone was any sign that he’d been at death’s door just a few short weeks ago.

Scully got up on the bed, scooting backwards until her head hit a pillow, and she removed the black headband and set it on top of the side table. Mulder soon followed and hovered over her. They could feel the heat between them, alive and pulsating. His hands were then on her, stroking and squeezing and caressing her soft flesh. Mulder ran kisses from her mouth, down her neck, and across her shoulder. His hands kneaded her thighs, and caressed her calves as she lifted her legs around his waist.

Mulder then slid down her body until he was resting at her feet, and Scully propped herself up on her elbows to look at him. He reached up to her bare thigh and unfastened the garter, rolling the stocking down her leg. He then did the same to her other leg. Mulder began caressing her ankles with the tips of his fingers, applying more pressure as he moved up her calves. Scully moaned in appreciation.

His hands then moved up to her thighs, his mouth following closely behind, and his tongue laved over her bare flesh in sensual patterns. Mulder continued this sweet torture to her other thigh until Scully was whimpering uncontrollably. Hot, wet desire was pooling at her center and her clit throbbed maddeningly.

Scully arched towards him and pulled Mulder’s lips to hers, kissing him passionately. He then pulled away, and kissed along her ear and down her throat until he reached her breasts, giving each one his rapt attention as he fondled, licked, and sucked her pink nipples until she was writhing underneath him.

Mulder grinned against her soft, slightly rounded belly and began making figures with his tongue. Soon Scully realized he was writing words but she could only make out one, and that one word was all she really needed to know.

Her blood was pounding in her ears as Mulder hooked his thumbs into the black thong at her hips, and slid it down her legs.

“Yes…,” Scully panted, her back arching off the mattress in anticipation. “Oh, yes…”

He took one leg in his hands and trailed kisses from her ankle to the delicate skin behind her knee. Mulder then continued to her thigh, kissing and sucking at her soft flesh. Scully shivered at the warm, wet contact his mouth made against her skin and spread her legs, allowing him access. He grunted his appreciation as the scent of her arousal filled his nostrils, making his head spin.

Mulder poised himself between her legs, his tongue sweeping through her wet slit as her hands clutched at the comforter on each side of her. Scully could hear and feel Mulder groan his delight as his tongue continued to stroke through her swollen folds, circling her entrance and thrusting inside. Scully moaned as his tongue found the spot she most wanted him to be, flicking her engorged bundle of nerves and circling it with his tongue.

“Delicious,” he whispered against her.

Scully felt the sweet tension coiling, the surge of hot need in the pit of her stomach down to her thighs. She sensed her walls tighten as Mulder’s fingers thrust inside her over and over again. With each thrust of his hand and stroke of his tongue against her clit, the pleasurable sensations grew stronger and throbbed as the tension coiled tighter towards release. As Mulder’s lips enclosed around her clit, sucking hard and grazing his teeth against her, she screamed out his name and her hips surged against him as she rode out her orgasm.

“I told you I’d scream for you,” whispered Scully.

He chuckled and then trailed kisses from her throbbing center up her abdomen, over the swell of her breasts, across her collarbone, up her neck, before landing at his destination. Mulder lowered his head to capture Scully’s lips with his, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulling him down to her.

“Are you still in love with Skinner?” he whispered, a feral look in his eyes.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head.

Mulder gazed at her intensely. “Who are you in love with?”

Scully returned the intense gaze. “You.”

He growled, lowering his head to nip at her neck, and grabbing the thick base of his cock, he thrust inside her to the hilt. The tight, wet heat of her cunt welcomed him, her muscles clenching around him. Scully raised her hips, bending her knees higher and changing the angle of his penetration, and she cried out as he came down with thrust, after deep thrust. She was on the verge of another intense orgasm.

“Mulder…,” she whimpered. “Oh, my God, Mulder…”

All he could do was groan her name in reply as he thrust harder, faster, deeper, feeling her inner walls tightening around him. As Scully started moaning and crying out loudly, Mulder’s brain blanked and he squeezed his eyes shut at the intense pressure that suddenly gripped his hard cock.

“I fucking love you,” Mulder groaned into Scully’s ear, before a harsh, animalistic and guttural cry erupted from his throat, and his body shuddered. The intense heat and stimulation from Scully’s orgasm turned the electric jolts shooting across his groin into a tidal wave of pleasure, and he was coming hard, his release pulsing inside her.

Exhausted. Ravished. They bonelessly laid on top of the mattress side by side, breathing heavily. Scully’s giggling soon followed and Mulder watched her, smiling. Their truth was so much better than fiction and he felt a surge of protectiveness, suddenly feeling glad the movie got it all wrong, believing that it didn’t belong to people on the outside to know the truths that lay between them.

*****

The following morning, the jarring sound of a telephone ringing woke Mulder from a deep sleep. He groaned and reached for the phone on the bedside table, noticing the time on the digital clock read 7:53 am.

“Hello?” he said groggily.

“Agent Mulder?” It was Skinner, and he sounded slightly surprised. “I must’ve called the wrong room. I thought Scully was staying in room 2442.”

Mulder sighed. “She is. Hold on.”

He then poked Scully, and she groaned as she took the receiver from him. “Hello?”

Skinner cleared his throat. “Um… Agent Scully. My flight leaves for Washington in a few hours, but I’ll be having breakfast here with Wayne Federman before I head over to the airport. I need to get that credit card back from you this morning before I leave.”

“Tell Skinman my flashlight is bigger,” Mulder grumbled.

Scully hastily covered the mouthpiece of the receiver, and elbowed him before replying. “Uh, yes, sir. Just stop by my room on your way out and I’ll give you the card.”

Thirty minutes later, there was a knock on their suite door. Mulder and Scully stared at each other.

“Who wants to get out of bed and give him the card?” he asked.

Scully groaned and pulled the covers over her head. She’d had way too much champagne the night before.

“I guess that means I’m gonna do it,” Mulder quipped, before getting out of bed. He then grabbed a pair of heather gray pajama bottoms out of his duffel bag and the Bureau credit card from the pocket of Scully’s jacket, and made his way to the hotel room door as Skinner knocked again.

Mulder opened the door, running a hand through his hair. Skinner and Federman stood there, staring at him. Scully jumped out of bed, knowing her boss would need the credit card receipts and went to retrieve them.

“Uh… you’ve got the card?” Skinner asked, looking over Mulder.

He nodded, handing Skinner the credit card. Scully then walked up behind him, and he turned to face her as she handed the receipts to Skinner. She was only wearing his black t-shirt she’d grabbed from his duffel bag.

“Thanks, we had a lot of fun,” she said, before turning around and walking away from the door to head back to bed.

Mulder turned back to face the two men standing in the hallway and they stared at each other. He then smirked as he closed the door on a silent Skinner and a speechless Federman.


	73. "He always liked what he saw."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully enjoy the rest of their weekend in Los Angeles.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.
> 
> Sidenote: Just to let you know, ahead of the next chapter, that the episode "Fight Club" does not exist in this story. I don't think anyone will really mind too much. At least I hope not...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Placebo – “Purify”
> 
> Spatial awareness  
> So much confusion  
> And it's so difficult to harness  
> But then I look at you  
> Nimble and righteous  
> And then I look at the floor  
> We made a fine mess
> 
> My kiss  
> Can you feel it yet  
> In the back of your legs  
> And on the nape of your neck
> 
> Are you a temple  
> Are you a temptress  
> There's too much choice  
> The possibilities are endless  
> So wash away my sins  
> Give me catharsis  
> Re-magnetize my moral compass
> 
> My kiss  
> Can you feel it yet  
> In the back of your legs  
> And on the nape of your neck  
> Your touch  
> I cannot regret  
> I love the shape of your mouth  
> And the back of your head
> 
> You are so my kind  
> Erotic and divine  
> I gotta testify  
> To how you purify
> 
> To me you're more than a human  
> You are more complex  
> You're like a fallen angel  
> Who uses God as a hex
> 
> My kiss  
> Can you feel it yet  
> In the back of your legs  
> And on the nape of your neck  
> Your touch  
> Well, I cannot regret  
> I love the shape of your mouth  
> And the back of your head
> 
> You are so my kind  
> Erotic and divine  
> I gotta testify  
> To how you purify

It was nearly 10:30 am when Scully awoke to a wonderful smell and saw Mulder, still dressed in those gray pajama bottoms, leaning over a room service cart and pouring hot coffee into two cups.

“Mulder, you’re a saint.”

He looked over at her and chuckled. “Well, good morning.”

After pouring some cream into her cup and stirring, he brought it over to her as she sat up in bed, smoothing out the black t-shirt she wore and running her fingers through her messy hair.

“Thanks,” Scully said, taking the cup and breathing in the aroma.

Mulder then went back over to the cart, spreading butter and strawberry jam over the wheat toast, and carried the small plate over to Scully.

“I can’t remember the last time I had breakfast in bed,” she said, before taking a bite of her toast.

He nodded, smiling, and drank some coffee. “So, Scully, what do you wanna do today?”

She sighed, sipping her coffee and thinking. “Getting out in the sun sounds nice. Would you like to go to the beach?”

Mulder suddenly had visions of Scully in a bathing suit, and rubbing sunscreen over her soft, milky skin. “Sounds good to me.”

After showering and getting dressed, they went down to the lobby of the hotel, walked out the entrance doors and stepped into a taxi cab. Upon arriving at the Santa Monica Pier, Mulder and Scully walked into The Sand & Surf Shop, where they purchased a beach bag, SPF 30 sunscreen, an oversized beach blanket, towels, and a large beach umbrella. Another stop inside a convenience store got them a bag of Doritos and two 1-liter bottles of water.

Once they’d left the pier, they reached Santa Monica Beach in no time. It was two miles of prime California coastline, and on a Saturday around noon it was filled with beachgoers. Especially on a day that was hot and sunny, with not a cloud in the sky, and a strong breeze to offset the heat. After finding a good spot fairly close to the shoreline that wasn’t too overly crowded, but only after walking quite a bit, Scully unrolled the beach blanket, with zigzag stripes of gray, white, pink, and yellow, as Mulder unfurled the large red umbrella and stabbed it into the sand at one end of the blanket.

Scully settled underneath the umbrella, wanting to protect her fair skin from the harmful UV rays, kicked off her sandals, and removed her black shorts, revealing the cobalt blue bikini underneath her long-sleeved sheer white kaftan cover-up. Mulder kicked off his sandals as well, removed his charcoal gray Palomar Observatory t-shirt, and sat down next to her, edging himself away from the umbrella so he could sit fully in the sun. Scully sat up, grabbed the sunscreen out of the tan beach bag, and scooched over to sit on her knees behind Mulder.

She squeezed the slippery and cool cream onto her hand, smelling the coconut and aloe vera, before rubbing her palms together and taking her hands to Mulder’s shoulder. He closed his eyes and sighed in satisfaction. Scully’s hands moved the sunscreen across his upper back, gently kneading his flesh, and over to his other shoulder. After taking some more of the white cream from the tube, she applied the balm down to his lower back, massaging until the sunscreen had soaked into his skin.

As Scully made her way out from behind Mulder, he laid down and let her work the sunscreen over the rest of his body, remaining supine and at her mercy. He watched her from behind his black sunglasses, gazing at the blue lycra that draped low on her hips and covered her breasts, thin strings tying behind her back and around her neck. Scully straddled his pelvis, and after sliding his sunglasses up to rest on top of his head, gently began to apply the sunscreen to his face and neck. Mulder moved his hands up to her hips, caressing her curves while she smiled down at him.

“Woman, shouldn’t you be feeding me some grapes or something?”

Scully laughed. “There’s Doritos in the beach bag. But if you think I’m going to feed them to you, I might have to get you checked out for heat stroke.”

Mulder chuckled. Scully then began to smooth the sunscreen over his chest, down his stomach. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips as she traced Mulder’s navel and the coarse hair of his happy trail which disappeared underneath the elastic waistband of his trunks, black with a wide white stripe running over the swell of his ass and across the crotch. Scully thought he looked like a surfer, his skin golden and unshaved, only covered by shorts that reached almost to his knees, his hands entwined behind his head, legs spread on the blanket, enjoying the cooling spray coming off the Pacific Ocean.

Mulder kept his eyes closed behind his sunglasses, enjoying the feel of Scully’s massaging fingers while he baked in the sun, listening to the slight scrape of her nails over his skin. It felt so good. He didn’t want to keep his eyes open; he was satisfied just to feel and hear her move over him. Mulder let out a contented sigh. Her small, soft hands spread the fragrant balm over his arms, kneading and stretching his muscles until they were raised above his head and Scully held his wrists to the blanket.

He opened one eye to peek up at her, suddenly aware of how trapped he was with her straddling him and restraining his wrists. “Scully?”

She grinned at him, and then leaned over to briefly press her lips to his as her hands moved up to entwine their fingers, before pulling away and letting go of his hands. Mulder felt somewhat surprised at the simultaneous gesture of tenderness and dominance, and smirked at her. Scully wasn’t one to express her feelings so openly, seeing as how they were surrounded by other people on this beach. She'd expressed them pretty openly at La Brava the night before, but there'd been a considerable amount of champagne involved. What had gotten into her lately? He chalked it up to just another puzzle piece to the mystery that was Dana Scully, one that he was enjoying immensely.

After lifting herself off his hips, she squeezed the tube of sunscreen into her hand, rubbing her palms together, and Scully brought her hands to Mulder’s thigh, hairy and hard to the touch. Her hands worked over his muscle definition, and her mind drifted to when they would return to the hotel room later. She kneaded his legs with the sunscreen languidly, taking her time. Scully rarely was able to give Mulder’s body this kind of attention, although she often wanted to. But 90% of the time, their sex was almost entirely focused on her body. Not that that was such a bad thing, but Scully often wished that she could devote just as much time to Mulder’s body as he did to hers. She liked him this way, lying on his back and allowing her to take her time with him, without interrupting and rolling her over to gratify his oral fixation, not that that was a bad thing either. She highly enjoyed Mulder’s oral fixation.

Once Scully had applied the sunscreen to his feet and toes, she moved back over to sit underneath the umbrella and took the sunscreen to her own legs, arms, and face after momentarily removing her long cover-up, even though she had no plans to leave the protection of the umbrella any time soon. She pulled her copy of Jose Chung’s _The Lonely Buddha_ that she was currently re-reading from the beach bag, and sat cross-legged while Mulder dozed lazily in the sun.

*****

After a short while, a group of people planted themselves in the sand not far behind Mulder and Scully, and their voices started carrying. They soon heard a conversation by this group that caught their attention.

“You’ve got to read this review of that _Lazarus Bowl_ movie,” spoke a young, musical female voice. “It’s fucking hilarious.”

“Is it bad?” asked a silvery female voice in reply. “Richard Gere is in it. I might want to see it.”

“The review is scathing, actually. It basically says the movie takes an urban legend and turns it into fodder for sexually maladjusted adolescents, which is basically the main character in a nutshell. The… uh… I think he’s an FBI agent. It’s in here somewhere… oh yeah, Special Agent Mulder. Gary Shandling plays him.”

Mulder and Scully locked eyes, and she burst out laughing.

“I am not a sexually maladjusted adolescent, Scully,” he said, staring at her. She just kept on laughing, wiping the tears that were leaking from the corners of her eyes.

“I’m gonna kill Wayne Federman,” said Mulder, who continued to grumble.

“So what’s your favorite urban legend about L.A.?” asked a baritone male voice.

“Long Beach’s Midgetville,” replied the silvery female voice. “That’s one that will never die.”

The group laughed, and Mulder glanced over at his partner. “Was that real, Scully?”

She snorted. “No, Mulder. La Linda is a real place, but the houses are normal-sized, regular houses and the munchkins from _The Wizard of Oz_ never lived there.”

He grinned and then sat up on the blanket, reaching for the bag of Doritos.

The group behind Mulder and Scully continued their discussion. “The Queen Mary being haunted. Gravity Hill in Altadena. Oh, yeah, the satanic cult in the Whittier Hills. Turnbull Canyon.”

“What’s the myth about Turnbull Canyon?” asked the young, musical female voice.

“It’s great for hiking,” someone replied, chuckling.

“The Manson Family members were hiding out there.”

“No, that Church of Satan huckster, Anton LaVey, owned a house up there with a vortex door to hell and he’d call up evil spirits into the world.”

“The KKK and neo-Nazis would meet up there.”

“The KKK was in California? I thought that shit was just in Mississippi and those places.”

“The KKK was everywhere.”

Mulder and Scully sat there staring at each other with wide-eyed amusement, as they listened to this conversation and snacked on the Doritos.

“I’ve got an interesting urban legend about Los Angeles, Scully.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she replied, grinning at him and taking a drink from her water bottle.

The group behind them started laughing loudly. “Come on, any other myths and legends?”

The baritone voice replied. “Yeah, I’ve got a good one. ‘Take Fountain, it’s faster.’”

His companions chuckled.

“That’s some bullshit right there.”

“No, Bette Davis said it about the fastest way to get to Hollywood. It was probably true then. It’s not anymore.”

“Nah, Fountain is faster than SM or Melrose.”

“Get real. It’s only faster between Highland and La Cienega. If you’re beyond those streets, you should be on Sunset or Santa Monica.”

“Highland-Fountain is such a bottleneck that getting on Fountain at all is not even worth it.”

“Okay, maybe Sunset. But SM is only a good choice if you’re driving from 2:00 to 6:00 am.”

“Please. East of La Brea, taking Delongpre is definitely the way to go at any and all hours even if it is farther from the 101. Whatever you do, stay the fuck away from Santa Monica Boulevard.”

The group all grunted their agreement.

Mulder and Scully couldn’t help laughing over this turn to the group’s conversation, shaking their heads. They’d overheard similar conversations while at The Musso & Frank Grill, in the lobby of The Ritz-Carlton, and even when at the 20th Century Fox studio lot for the movie premiere.

“Why do people who live in California always end up talking about traffic?” Mulder asked, laughing.

“I don’t know,” Scully replied, still giggling. “Probably because they spend most of their day just trying to get somewhere. So, Mulder, what’s your urban legend about L.A.?”

“The Lizard People,” he replied seriously.

Scully stared at him. “The Lizard People?”

Mulder nodded. “They’re an advanced, super-race of humans, related to the Mayans allegedly.”

“‘Allegedly’ being the key word here,” she quipped.

He smirked. “Anyways, they fled a cataclysmic meteor shower and created an underground city about 5,000 years ago in the tunnels underneath the city of Los Angeles as well as other communities on the Pacific Coast. They used their technological and intellectual advancement to create mysterious chemicals that allowed them to dig a network of almost 300 tunnels with vast chambers large enough to hold 1,000 families.”

“And how would they survive down there in these mysterious lost catacombs underneath the city?” Scully asked amusedly. “What about food? And water?”

“Well, I’m sure they could find a way, Scully. Plus, I’ll have you know that these Lizard People are said to be the natural-born enemies to the gray aliens, and may well serve to be mankind’s last line of defense when the aliens invade.”

Scully giggled. “Please tell me you don’t believe this.”

Mulder grinned, nodding. “I’m just saying it’s an entertaining urban legend. I’ve never come across any information regarding reptilian beings existing anywhere.”

“Oh, thank God,” she breathed. “Because if you were going to have us spend the rest of the weekend searching for these underground tunnels, you would’ve been searching alone.”

“Nope, I’m on vacation,” he replied, and laid back down on the blanket, closing his eyes.

Scully smiled; glad that Mulder’s obsession with work wasn’t so much of an obsession anymore these days.

*****

When Mulder opened his eyes some time later and looked over to his right, he saw that Scully wasn’t under the umbrella. He sat up on his elbows, looking around, but he couldn’t see her anywhere. About 10 minutes later, he saw a petite redheaded figure in a long white beach dress type thing (he had no other way to describe it), with that blue bikini underneath, and black sunglasses walking towards him. In one hand she was carrying a silver beer bucket with four Coronas, complete with lime wedges, and in the other hand was a red basket whose contents were covered up with red and white checkered paper liner.

As Mulder watched her walk towards him, winding her way around groups of people lying on the beach, he realized that any and all traces of the professional Scully had been left behind in Washington. Sometimes he forgot just how familiar she was with California, just how comfortable she was in this kind of atmosphere. As a teenager, she’d spent entire summers just lying around on the beach and doing not much else.

“Hey, you’re awake,” she said as she approached the beach blanket.

He smiled, nodding his head. She kicked off her sandals and stepped onto the blanket, setting the ice bucket and basket down underneath the umbrella.

“What have you got there?” Mulder asked.

“A late lunch, or an early dinner,” replied Scully. “Why don’t you come over here under the umbrella for a while? I don’t want you to get burned.”

He sat up and moved over to sit under the umbrella next to her. She pulled her gold card from her bikini top and returned it to her wallet that was underneath the towels in the beach bag. Mulder raised his eyebrows at her, smirking.

“No pockets,” she responded, shrugging her shoulders slightly.

Scully then took one of the ice cold Coronas, pushed the lime wedge down through the neck of the bottle, raised the bottle to her mouth, and took an appreciative sip. After setting it down between her crossed legs, she grabbed another bottle and handed it to Mulder. He took it from her, and leaned over to capture her lips with his. He could taste the slightly bitter flavor of the beer and the tartness of the lime as he stroked his tongue along the satiny lining of her bottom lip.

Mulder then pulled away, pushed the lime wedge down into his own bottle, and drank. “This tastes so good.”

Scully nodded, humming in agreement. Mulder watched her, feeling enchanted by this side of Scully that he never really got to see much of before. Their weekend in San Diego a few months ago was fun, but they’d never really taken a few days to themselves just to have fun before then. As she pushed her sunglasses up to rest on top of her head and took another sip of her beer, Mulder realized, not for the first time and probably not the last, that Scully really was a young woman. Despite their closeness in age, he’d always felt so much older than her. Their lives over the past seven years, their work, had aged them. Mulder wasn’t yet 40, but he’d often felt so much older than that. He thought that Scully most likely felt the same, felt much older than her 36 years.

As Mulder unwrapped the checkered paper from around the basket contents, he was greeted by a surprise. Inside the basket were two big, juicy cheeseburgers and a pile of fries between them.

“Cheeseburgers, Scully? When was the last time you ate a burger?”

She shrugged. “It sounded really good.”

He smiled at her, and watched her grab one of the cheeseburgers, holding onto its paper lining while folding it down to take a bite. Apparently a happy Scully was a hungry Scully.

“Oh, my God, this is so good,” she groaned.

Mulder chuckled, and grabbed his own burger from the basket. They took their time eating, discussing the strange events surrounding Cardinal Augustine O’Fallon and Micah Hoffman, discussing the movie and its absurdness. Every time Mulder cringed and griped over various scenes from _The Lazarus Bowl_ , Scully would just laugh.

About an hour later, after they’d finished eating and he’d thoroughly enjoyed Scully reapplying the sunscreen to his body, Mulder was once again lying in the sun with his head using a towel for a pillow. He glanced over at his partner, finding her still sitting cross-legged under the umbrella and reading a book. He looked out at the ocean, at the beachgoers happily being tossed about by the waves, and then looked back at Scully.

“You wanna go in the water?” asked Mulder.

“No, not really,” Scully replied. “I don’t think I want to get wet.”

He sighed. At this moment, a couple young women who looked to be in their late teens or early 20’s and a male companion walked by in front of Mulder and Scully’s beach blanket.

“Can you believe that scene where the FBI dude was crying like a little bitch because Téa Leoni would rather fuck Richard Gere?” said one of the women.

“That was hysterical,” replied the young man with them. “What a pussy. I mean, he's an FBI agent. Man up.”

And then they were gone, and out of earshot. Scully slowly turned to look at Mulder, and he was staring after the departing young people, clenching his jaw.

“I’m gonna kick Federman’s ass,” he griped.

She bit her bottom lip, suppressing a laugh. “You know, Mulder. It’s okay for manly men to cry over an emotional situation.”

“Whoever said that I was manly man, Scully?” he quipped.

After a long moment of phony deliberation, she replied, nodding her head seriously. “You’re right. No one.”

Scully then started giggling, and Mulder lunged for her. She shrieked in protest as he tackled her and started tickling her sides mercilessly. Still laughing, she tried desperately to get away from him and his hands.

“Mulder!” she screeched, and finally wrenched herself free of his grasp by wiggling out of her white cover-up.

But he grabbed her again, laughing over Scully’s reaction that was so very different from her usual dignified exterior, picked her up, and started carrying her to the water.

“Don’t you dare, Mulder!” she yelled, kicking and trying to break free from his grip. “This isn’t funny anymore!”

He kept on laughing as he waded into the water up to his waist, and he tried to lower her as a tease, but she had her arms and legs wrapped so tightly around him that Mulder thought he’d need a crowbar to pry her off of him.

“Scully, you’re choking me,” he said, laughing as he tried to pull her arms off his neck.

“I don’t want to go in the water, Mulder!”

He was still shaking with laughter. “But you’re dressed for it. How about I just dunk the both of us while you hang onto me?”

“I will never speak to you again if you…”

But at that moment, a huge wave rolled up behind them, and crashed into them, knocking Mulder off balance. He tried to gain his equilibrium, but Scully was squirming and all he could get out was “Oh, shi…” before the roaring noise of the wave took them under the water.

The salty ocean water was a stinging shock to Mulder’s system, and he nearly inhaled with a gasp. Scully had immediately let go of him, kicking herself away. Just to be on the safe side, Mulder allowed some distance to grow between them before he surfaced, gasping for air.

“You fucking bastard!”

Mulder turned to look at Scully, standing chest-deep in the water, her hair plastered against her head, water trickling down her face. “Yeah, that would be me.”

He couldn’t help it, and immediately started laughing. He was still trying to get air in his lungs, so he choked, and then laughed some more.

“I’m going to kill you, Mulder!” she yelled, wringing out her hair and wiping the water from her face.

“Come on, Scully. It was an accident!” Mulder then rubbed the sting out of his eyes from the salt water and tried to spit the salty taste from his mouth.

She glared at him in outrage. “An accident? You dragged me out here!”

Scully then launched herself at Mulder, and he immediately started backpedalling his arms. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” But he was still laughing, and she pushed him hard as another wave hit and he was back underneath the water.

When he surfaced, spluttering and wiping the salt water from his eyes, he saw Scully was moving away from him and heading back to shore. Mulder caught up with her as her feet touched sand, and he ran ahead of her to their blanket, knowing she was right behind him, where he took both towels hostage.

“Dammit, Mulder, give me my towel,” Scully groaned.

“Only if you promise not to do me bodily harm,” he replied seriously.

She paused, as if contemplating this. “I can’t believe you, Mulder! I didn’t want to get wet!”

He sighed, a grin spreading across his face. “And why not?”

“Because! I just… didn’t feel like it.”

“Scully, lighten up. So you got dunked in the ocean. We’re at the beach for fuck’s sake. You’ll get over it.”

She heaved a frustrated sigh. “Mulder, if you don’t give me my towel, right now…” She felt so angry that the threat trailed off into nothing.

He smirked at her. “You felt like you’d lost control of the situation, right? Suddenly everything was up to me, to decide what would or wouldn’t happen, and then we fell because nature doesn’t give a damn about what humans think they can control. You hated the loss of control, right? That’s what’s bothering you.”

“Are you psychoanalyzing me, Mulder?” asked Scully, suppressing a grin. "You don't really like to lose control of situations either."

“But you seem to have a much harder time with it than I do."

Scully arched an eyebrow at him. "Is that so?"

"You’re not really mad at me, are you?” He then stepped forward and wrapped a large towel around Scully’s shoulders, rubbing her arms.

She could no longer suppress her grin, and she smirked as she leaned into Mulder’s body and sighed. “I guess not. But you’re gonna make it up to me later. Payback is a bitch.”

Mulder lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers as his arms wrapped around her back. “Oh, I'm planning on it.”

*****

At just past 6:00 pm, Mulder and Scully left the beach and made their way back to The Ritz-Carlton and their suite. Mulder had felt amused that Scully had said to leave the umbrella on the beach for someone else as it’s not like they would need it in D.C. After he showered and put on the larger bathrobe, he lounged on his side of the King bed and watched the television while Scully took her time in the bathroom.

Once she stepped out of the shower and dried off, Scully looked through her duffel bag and pulled out the navy blue silk camisole and the matching thong that she’d purchased before the trip, smiling to herself. After dressing, she pulled on the plush, white robe and walked out of the bathroom. Upon sight of Mulder on the bed, she chewed her bottom lip and felt butterflies fill her stomach.

He looked over at her and smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she replied softly.

Scully walked over to the bed and then climbed up, sitting on Mulder’s thighs. She took the TV remote from his hand, hit the power button to shut the television off, and placed the remote on the bedside table next to the telephone. He smirked, and his hands went to untie her robe, but she pushed his hands away.

“Nope. No touching.”

Mulder snorted. “What do you mean?”

“I told you that you were going to make it up to me.”

He looked at her, feeling somewhat confused, and Scully untied his own robe, pushing it apart. Her hands went to his chest, running her fingers through his small patch of coarse hair and down his stomach to his navel. Mulder’s breathing quickened and his pupils dilated. Scully then moved his bathrobe off his shoulders, and he lifted himself up a little so she could pry the robe free, tossing it to the floor. His hands once again went to her robe, but she pushed them away and shook her head.

“Lie down,” Scully whispered. “And no touching. This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

“Touching you _is_ about me,” Mulder deadpanned.

She snorted. “I mean it. No touching. If you don’t listen, I’ll have to restrain you.”

Mulder chuckled. “Fine, no touching.”

“You promise?” she asked, arching her eyebrow at him.

“I promise,” he replied, nodding his head seriously.

Scully lifted herself slightly off his thighs so Mulder could scoot down into more of a lying position, with his head and shoulders propped up on a couple pillows. After sitting back down on his thighs, she then started to undo the tie to her robe. He had expected her to be naked underneath like he had been, and his eyes widened at the shiny material that clung to her body. It had the appearance of a tank top, but this wasn’t something she’d wear around her apartment on a hot summer day. This thing in front of him was lingerie.

Mulder stared at her, conscious of the fact that his eyes were wide and his mouth had fallen open. Thin spaghetti straps ran over her shoulders and the hem of the blue top ended somewhere around her navel. His eyes traveled south, and he became positive that a thong of the same shiny, silky material covered her center. A flow of blood and heat rushed to his groin, and his hips arched up slightly. Scully smirked at him. But when he started to lift his hands up off the bed, she shot him a warning look, and his hands fell back down to the mattress.

She lowered her face to his and kissed the top of his head, raising her body upward and allowing her silk-covered breasts to touch his face. Mulder started to reach for them with his mouth, but she pulled away. He groaned in frustration and stared at her. She was fucking teasing him. Scully grinned and moved to kiss his forehead, before lowering to kiss his eyelids, then his cheek, rubbing her face against his five o’clock shadow, down to his ear, circling the shell with her tongue before taking his earlobe into her mouth. Mulder, closing his eyes, felt goose bumps rising all over his body, the hair on his arms and legs standing straight up. Scully moved down to his neck, kissing and flicking her tongue toward his throat, kissing and tasting the skin there before moving down to his chest, not touching Mulder with anything other than her lips and tongue. Scully’s hands supported her weight on the mattress just above his body, pressing into the bed on either side of him, keeping her knees to the side of his legs. Sliding her lower body down, she kissed his left nipple, slowly sliding her tongue over its tip, then moving around the edge in circles before placing her lips around it, gently sucking it into her mouth.

Mulder sucked in his breath as sharp electric jolts shot down toward his groin. While holding his nipple in her mouth, Scully rolled her tongue across the tip as it wrinkled to her touch. She then moved her mouth to the right nipple, finding it already swollen in anticipation, like the goose pimpled flesh over the rest of Mulder’s body. She again dragged her tongue over the top of it, before taking the nipple into her mouth. This time she sucked firmly on it, and Mulder moaned, his hips arching off the mattress.

Mulder’s body tensed as he knew where Scully was heading and his pulse quickened. But he still fought to keep his hands lying flat on the bed. He wanted to pull her mouth to his, touch her, roll her under him and… Mulder wanted to be in control. He remembered what she’d said to him on the beach earlier and wondered if she was testing his ability to give up control of the situation. With each kiss from Scully’s lips, each stroke of her tongue, he felt his insides begin to shake with excitement. The feeling was so intense, her lips and tongue the only things touching him; it was almost like a butterfly’s wings flicking across his body. And then she laid down between his legs. After giving his nipple a parting kiss, Scully moved down Mulder’s abdomen to his navel, circling it with her tongue and darting into it, before leaving to move lower down the trail of hair that led south from his belly button.

Scully’s body shared Mulder’s responses, the needs he felt drove her, filled her with an aching desperation as heat curled in the pit of her stomach. She could feel his body tense under her, hear his breathing deepen. She nibbled and licked, and suckled to her heart’s content, smiling at the contented sighs and moans coming from Mulder’s throat in a steady stream. She could feel his thighs flexing, shifting further apart, as she felt his hardening cock begin to prod her belly insistently. Scully dragged her tongue along the silky line of hair leading down from his navel, ignoring the blind surge of Mulder’s hips and his jutting erection.

She swiped her tongue lower, moving down around his pelvis to his thigh, ignoring her own rampant desire in an effort to make him suffer. It was payback, after all. Mulder’s legs moved further apart in encouragement, and she had to fight back a chuckle. Scully could see his balls now, drawn up tight against the thick base of his cock, and smiled. When she delicately licked the tightly drawn skin, she thought he’d come off the bed. Mulder arched so hard off the mattress that she’d struggled to keep her mouth on him and not get tossed to the floor next to his long-forgotten bathrobe. He collapsed back on the bed with a groan, his hands moving towards her, and then quickly returned to lie on the mattress, clenching into tight fists.

“I’m gonna come if you keep that up,” Mulder panted.

“What do you think I’m down here for?” Scully quipped.

He watched her tongue lick from the base of his cock to the head, his mouth hanging open and panting.

Scully continued to slowly lick along his shaft. “You feel so good, Mulder,” she said quietly. “So hard.”

He groaned, his eyes rolling backwards. He wanted her to keep talking like that, but he also wanted her mouth to be too busy to do any talking. She smirked, knowing how much Mulder loved her voice.

Scully, lying on her stomach between his legs, took both hands to his cock, pulling her fingernails up his rock hard shaft on either side before stopping at the swollen head. She put her thumbs on each side of his slit, stretching gently, and then leaned down to stroke her tongue over the pre-cum dripping there. Mulder groaned, twisting the sheets in his fists. His heels pressed into the mattress and he arched his hips, lifting her again.

Again she licked him, and then slid one hand down to the base of his cock, her fingers molding tightly around him and squeezing, while she glided her other hand under his balls to hold them. Scully closed her eyes, opened her lips, and swallowed the engorged head of Mulder’s cock.

“Scully!” he cried out.

Her lips were warm and wet and tight around him as she filled her mouth with him. The strong constriction of her lips, the flat rub of her tongue along the underside of his sensitive head, the firm pressure on his balls, and her hand squeezing tight as she stroked his shaft was more than he could stand.

The exact pressure, rhythm, everything Mulder needed was clear to Scully. She knew his overwhelming sense of fulfillment as he looked down at her. She knew exactly when to increase the speed and strength of her hands and mouth. His thick length strained her mouth over him, and the taste and feel of him triggered a consuming response within her body. Scully wanted nothing more than to give as much pleasure to Mulder as possible. Her body strained with it, sucking harder, pumping faster, as wet heat fired up between her own legs.

It didn’t take long before all the sexual energy of a fully-aroused man on the brink of orgasm was slammed into Scully’s mouth as Mulder’s hips bucked against her and his hands flew to tangle in her hair. She took him with a ravenous appetite, and she thought her eyes would roll up back into her head as liquid fire shot through her body. Opening wider, Scully took him down her throat and moaned. He bucked and came so hard Mulder thought he was seeing stars as his cock jerked and pulsed in her mouth. Scully’s throat worked as she took his hot release, and that made his orgasm so powerful, tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. As he lay limp and drained beneath her, Scully used her tongue and hot mouth to milk him of every last drop, using swirling licks and gentle suction to draw out Mulder’s pleasure.

“That was fucking amazing,” he breathed, his chest heaving.

Mulder opened his eyes and looked at Scully as she sat up on her knees. The intense gaze she gave him made the blood in veins grow molten. He gave her a look of feral determination. They weren’t finished. Far from it.

“It’s my turn now,” he said, staring at her with a burning gaze.

Scully licked her lips and Mulder reached for her, pulling her up towards him and rolling her to lie on her back, his body partially covering hers. With one hand cupping her face and the other holding him up along with his forearm, his mouth captured hers and her lips parted, an invitation for his tongue, which delved inside and began to caress the tender flesh thoroughly.

Finally they broke the kiss to breath, both panting harshly, Mulder’s forehead resting on Scully’s, gazing into her eyes. When his hand moved from her face to the silk material of her camisole, he made a pleased humming sound.

“Did you wear this for me?” he whispered.

She nodded, smiling.

Mulder moved his hand up to caress and squeeze her breast through the camisole. The feel of the material against her skin and the warmth of his hand through the silk was a teasing torment to her, and she started to squirm while her breathing rapidly became shallower.

“Ohh, Scully, I like this,” he said huskily, still fondling her breast through the silky material. “A lot.”

She let her head fall back against the mattress, her damp red hair fanning out. This move thrust her silk-clad breasts forward and accentuated her throat, her gold cross lying against it. Mulder gazed down at her, and traced his forefinger along one thin strap over her shoulder, across the neckline of the camisole, before moving to trace the strap over her other shoulder. He made that humming sound again, and then lowered his head. He languidly kissed Scully’s neck with slow, darting licks of his tongue, before moving down to her breasts. Mulder sucked her nipple into his mouth through the silk, and she moaned. His hand found her other nipple and played it through the soft material. Scully’s hips automatically lifted towards him, rocking against him.

“Beautiful, beautiful,” he murmured against her breast, before reclaiming her erect nipple and torturing it with his lips and teeth until Scully was writhing uncontrollably, her stomach muscles fluttering in reaction and anticipation.

Mulder then lifted himself up, gazing intently down at her, before sweeping his eyes over her body from head to toe. “Roll over onto your stomach.”

Scully swallowed. Oh, God. Hot and heavy desire pooled in her belly, and she forgot to breathe. She then came up on her elbows, and rolled over until she was lying flat on her stomach, the weight of her upper body balancing on her forearms.

He let out a soft groaning sound, and then a guttural “Scully” ushered forth from his throat.

A sense of power surged through her body, and she smiled to herself. She looked over her shoulder at Mulder, her pulse stuttering and then leaping, blood surging through her veins. He gazed at her intensely, his eyes running over her body as it laid there suggestively before him, wantonly available to him. Her milky, ivory skin was in stark contrast to the dark blue shade of the camisole and thong that she wore. He could hear her shallow breathing, her center was wet and the small patch of silky material there was clearly soaked through.

Mulder sat on his knees between her legs, and his hands came down to stroke the skin well above the backs of her knees. The feel of his thumbs so high up on her inner thighs, so close to her wetness, sent a quivering tremor through Scully’s body.

“God, Scully,” he groaned huskily. “You have the most incredible ass.”

He then moved his hands up her thighs, until they were palming the very body part he’d just vocalized his appreciation of.

“I have a confession to make,” Mulder said in a low voice. “Over the years, I used to purposely walk behind you, just so I could watch your ass, watch it move from side to side as you walked.”

The sound of Mulder’s voice made Scully’s insides melt, the low and intimate tone that emphasized his arousal and his words of approval sent more blood rushing to her groin, and she pressed down into the mattress in an attempt to relieve the ache at her center.

Mulder’s hands moved up to the thin waistband of Scully’s thong, and she lifted her hips to assist him in its removal, but he made no such attempts. He then moved back a bit and placed both hands on the mattress on either side of Scully, and lowered his mouth to the back of her left thigh, darting out his tongue. She sighed and rocked her hips as Mulder’s lips and tongue moved up her thigh to the soft flesh of her ass.

His hands moved again and his thumbs rubbed along the thin strip of material that ran up the center to connect to the waistband of the thong. As his hands came back down the thin strip, his knuckles brushed against her wet, silk-covered center. Scully bucked, her teeth biting her lower lip, and she parted her legs even further. She desperately wanted Mulder to touch the burning ache, the throbbing heat that was just inches away from his fingers.

Mulder smirked down at her, and instead of touching her like he knew she wanted him to, he grabbed the waistband of the thong and began to tug at it, pulling it upwards to slide between her swollen, drenched folds, creating a friction against her hardened clit.

Scully closed her eyes and moaned, the sound ending in his name. “Mmmmmulder…”

She began to move with his upward motions, rocking her hips against them. He then stopped pulling on the thong, and moved his hands to apply pressure to her ass, pressing her down and grinding her pelvis into the mattress. She thrilled at the much-needed friction against her aching clit, and writhed on the bed.

He groaned at the sight and felt his body responding to her a second time, his cock beginning to harden. Scully heard him huskily groan her name, and then his body was covering hers. His weight settled over her, planting his hands on either side of her arms, his chest against her back. Scully then felt Mulder lift himself up slightly and press against her ass, stroking his cock with his hand, and she started panting. He then lowered himself once again, his upper body braced on his forearms and his hands next to hers. Then he began to rock his pelvis against her, his hard cock rubbing up and down the crease between her ass, over the silk of the thong.

Scully lifted her hips, and used all the strength she had in her thighs to push back against Mulder’s body. He hissed her name, but kept himself aligned along her backside, pressing into her as she rocked against him. Mulder’s thighs cradled Scully’s, and his hard cock pushed insistently up and down from her ass to her wet, thong-covered center. Her hands clenched the sheets in front of her and her hips squirmed as Mulder moved his cock between her legs along her slick, hot center. Scully tilted her hips and rocked back towards him, hard. He groaned, and jerked his hips at her.

“God, Mulder,” Scully whispered. “I want…” Her train of thought trailed off as the friction of his cock against her sensitive flesh made her mind go blank.

His teeth nipped at her neck. “What do you want, Scully?”

Mulder moved one hand to cup and squeeze her breast through the camisole, his hips continuing to thrust his cock back and forth between her thighs teasingly.

“I want… you inside me!” she cried out, arching her back and rocking her hips against him.

“You want it just like this?” he asked in a low voice, his hand now rolling her nipple between his fingers. “With me staring at your perfect ass while I slide my cock in and out of your tight cunt?”

Scully groaned at Mulder’s words, her blood pounded in her ears, and she bucked against him hard, her inner muscles clenching as if he was already filling her with his hard, thick length. “Yes,” she hissed. “Jesus, Mulder, fuck me. Fuck me hard. Do it now. Please.”

He grunted, his hips bucking. Mulder then quickly lifted Scully slightly until she was on her knees, her forearms still flat on the mattress. He took his hand and pulled the thong away from her very wet center, holding it to the side.

“Spread your legs a little wider,” Mulder said, sounding almost desperate, as his cock prodded her entrance.

Scully quickly shifted her knees further apart with the same urgency as his demand, and was immediately rewarded by Mulder’s cock thrusting easily and deeply inside her cunt, to the hilt, stretching and filling her. The muscles of her inner walls clenched around him in pure pleasure.

“Oh, my God, Mulder…” Her eyes squeezed shut and her fingers once again gripped the sheets in front of her.

“Christ, Scully,” he groaned, both hands on her hips. “I… can feel your cunt… gripping me… like a tight, hot glove. It feels… so fucking good.”

Mulder was quivering, fighting the urge to thrust hard. He steadied his breathing, letting the sensations surrounding his buried cock wash over him. He took long, deep breaths in an effort to calm himself, and then his hands moved to Scully’s cheeks, palming and squeezing them as he began to slowly thrust in and out of her.

“God, Scully, your ass. It’s so beautiful. How I love your ass.”

He was driving her crazy, and she started to rock her hips back against him. She knew Mulder was staring down at their joined bodies in fascination, watching his hands knead her ass, watching his cock disappear inside of her and then reappear slick and wet with her juices. Scully’s muscles clenched around him as this image filled her mind, and he groaned.

“Mulder,” Scully breathed. “Please…”

At the sound of her pleading, and his own body aching for release, he began to slam his groin into her ass, thrusting hard and fast.

“Oh, God, yes… yes, just like that,” Scully whimpered, her muscles clenching around him.

“Ahh… that feels incredible,” Mulder groaned.

He then slid his right hand underneath her belly, under the front of the silky thong, down between her legs. Two of his fingers swiftly found her clit, and started circling. Pleasure burned like fire through her core with a vengeance. Every single nerve ending in her body became enflamed, and her thighs started trembling. Mulder swirled his fingers faster and faster against her throbbing, engorged clit. Soon the trembling moved from her thighs throughout her entire body, and her orgasm began to build, coiling tighter and tighter at her center, and soon she was whimpering Mulder’s name with each thrust of his hard cock.

Mulder’s mouth descended, and he nipped where her neck met her shoulder. Scully moaned, and bucked against him. He chuckled, and then that became a strangled moan as he felt her inner muscles squeeze him.

“Oh, God, Scully, do that again,” he groaned in her ear. “Squeeze my cock with your hot, tight cunt.”

She gasped his name, her insides fluttering at his words, and she began to actively clench her muscles around him.

“Jesus! Just like that, Scully. Don’t stop.”

Mulder’s hips picked up the pace, thrusting faster, as his fingers worked harder and harder against Scully’s clit, alternating between circling and pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. She was so close, and begged him not to stop.

“You like that, huh?” he spoke low in her ear. He sounded arrogant, smug, pleased with himself, and aroused as hell. Scully’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and she groaned.

The movement of Mulder’s fingers sped up, rubbing in hard, fast circles around her clit. Scully’s hips began to buck, and the coiling tension burst, her orgasm forcefully overtaking her as wave after wave of pleasure surged through her body. She screamed and wailed Mulder’s name, her body twitching wildly, legs shaking and almost collapsing, her inner walls clamping down like a vice on his cock.

Mulder stopped his thrusts and gentled his fingers against her clit, allowing her to ride out her orgasm. He murmured in her ear, “Scully, that feels so good.” He groaned, nuzzling against her neck. When her spasms slowed, he lifted himself from her, coming up on his knees, and moved his hands to grasp her hips. He started to thrust in hard, and Scully rose up, straightening her arms and planting her palms on the mattress. She began to thrust backwards to meet Mulder, clenching her inner muscles around him.

That was all Mulder could stand. “Fuck! Scully!”

His hands tightened their grip on her hips, and he moaned loudly as his hips jerked, and then he was coming, moaning with each hot spurt, filling her core with his seed. Scully relaxed her muscles and stilled her hips, slowing to a gentle rocking. Her heart pounded and her breathing came in heavy pants, to match Mulder. Her body still trembled with orgasmic after-shocks and from her exertions. Mulder rested his face against her silk-covered back, his hands sliding from her hips to wrap around her body and press her against him in a tight hug. “Scully…”, Mulder sighed contentedly.

They both collapsed on the bed, and Mulder wrapped his arms around her as they spooned. His mouth nibbled at her neck and shoulder, and his voice purred in her ear.

*****

The early Sunday morning California sun cast a warm glow across the bedroom area of the hotel suite. Mulder had been awake for about 30 minutes, and was watching Scully sleep. Devoid of any makeup on her face, he could see the freckles in her skin and the mole she always covered up. He wondered why she did that. He couldn’t think of any reason why it would need to be covered. Small red abrasions marred the soft skin of her cheek, and Mulder remembered her rubbing her face against his five o’clock shadow the night before. Scully’s hair was spread out on the pillow, a mass of wavy curls as she didn’t bother to do anything with it after her shower, and Mulder twisted one red curl around his finger.

Something was different about her, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. It was true that she’d been different ever since he’d returned from England and she’d regaled him with her tale of what had happened to her in that Buddhist temple. But something else was different. She was glowing, she was happy, and other than that scare they’d had involving some tobacco beetles, she was mostly stress-free these days. The time they’d spent there in California, away from work and the stresses of everyday life, had enhanced Scully’s natural beauty and reminded him of just how young she still was. There was a fresh, youthful glow emanating from her face.

Mulder watched her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks, and then she blinked until she was peering at him with sleepy blue eyes. Scully then slid closer to him and rested her face against his chest.

“Good morning,” she whispered.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to him. He could feel her body relax against him, and she soon fell back asleep. At that moment, a feeling of complete and utter peace came over Mulder. He knew that they’d be returning to Washington later that day, and once again would be thrown back into the stress and chaos of the X-Files. Maybe for the first time since he could even remember, he didn’t feel all that anxious to get back to work. At that moment, he was holding his entire world in his arms and he vowed to remember this feeling. They were young, and happy, and in love.


	74. "I'd wish that I could live my life moment by moment, enjoying it for what it is instead of... instead of worrying about what it isn't."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon returning from Los Angeles, Mulder and Scully work a bizarre case in Missouri, which ends up giving Mulder the power to make three wishes.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of the episode "Je Souhaite" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Vince Gilligan, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> Sidenote #1: Sorry for the slightly delayed update. Some news distracted me and I took to Twitter like a bat out of hell, something I hadn't spent too much time with since starting this story. So... The X-Files might be coming back?! HELL TO THE YES.
> 
> Sidenote #2: The next chapter will be the very last chapter devoted to the events surrounding Season 7. I feel simultaneously heartbroken and excited. I'm also procrastinating the shit out of writing it, mainly because it's upsetting me as if I was that 18 year old girl re-living Mulder's abduction all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kate Nash – “My Best Friend Is You”
> 
> You are my best friend  
> You are my best friend  
> You are my best friend
> 
> You are the most clever, most stupid, most whatever  
> You are the most honourable soldier, super hero, pretty as a cat  
> You have integrity that I cannot conceive  
> You are opinionated, you are my belief  
> You are so good, you are so bad  
> You have experienced things I never have
> 
> You take me, you take me  
> You take me somewhere I have never been  
> You take me, you take me  
> You take me somewhere I have never been

On Sunday, May 21st, Mulder and Scully departed Los Angeles on the 11:50 am nonstop flight back to Washington, D.C., arriving at 7:35 pm local time. After an affectionate goodbye at the Dulles International Airport, they both returned home to their respective apartments. Upon arriving back home in Alexandria, Mulder fed his fish and gathered up his dirty laundry, before heading out to the Laundromat. He then spent the rest of the evening happily watching ESPN sports highlights. The Knicks were advancing in the NBA playoffs, and life was good.

But when Mulder got into bed at 11:00 pm, he found he couldn’t sleep without Scully beside him. Strange silence filled the apartment, and he missed the sound of her breathing next to him, the sound of her rolling over to lay on her other side. He missed the feeling of her arm wrapped around him, her hand curling against his chest and her leg draping over his hips. He wanted her hair in his face, the sound of her snoring in his ear, her tiny warm body pressed up against his. He also didn’t like not knowing if Scully was safe and sound, something he had little doubt of when she laid right next to him. Mulder thought about calling to check up on her, but the clock told him it was after midnight and she was most likely sleeping. At 1:00, he finally admitted defeat and retreated to his leather couch, turning on the television and keeping the volume low, where he soon after was able to fall asleep.

The jarring sound of his alarm coming from the bedroom woke Mulder at 6:00 am. Once again, he was vividly reminded of being alone. He thought he enjoyed mornings with Scully most of all. From the start of their transition to a physical relationship, he didn’t think they ever really worried too much about their appearances at the break of dawn. They’d known each other too long, had seen each other in every state imaginable, and so things like messy hair and drool weren’t even an afterthought.

When the alarm would sound, Mulder, the early riser, would always climb dutifully out of bed and head for the shower. Scully was the exact opposite. She’d hit the snooze button over and over again, while burying her head underneath the covers, waiting until the last possible minute to get out of bed. She’d then finally make her way to the bathroom, her hair very tousled and her pajamas very wrinkled, if she happened to be wearing any. The best mornings were when a growing erection shifted his priorities around, and postponed his extradition from the bed. After a short while he’d see her reappear from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, smelling like soap and vanilla, and looking a bit more respectable. This would be the point when Mulder, already dressed and ready to leave for the office, would hand her a mug of hot coffee and kiss her before he left, treasuring the knowledge that he would be seeing her again just a little while later.

As he showered and got ready for work, Mulder felt determined to not spend another night alone. If it was possible to live together and still be FBI partners, he’d do it in a heartbeat. He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, toothbrush in hand, as this thought came to him. Ever since he partnered up with Scully, he’d come to the gradual realization that he no longer felt alone, and yet at times he had behaved as though he still was. The shifting dynamic of their partnership had made him realize that he didn’t just feel like he wasn’t alone anymore, he truly wasn’t alone in every possible sense. Scully was usually by his side, day and night, and since her experience in that Buddhist temple, she had made it clear to him that she was fully committed to the X-Files. As Mulder stared at his reflection, a smile spread across his face as he realized he was no longer afraid, no longer felt any doubt or worry. He felt whole, and loved. Scully wasn’t going to leave him. Ever. It felt so damn good. Now if only the world around them was a safer place, if only their work wasn’t so dangerous, yet he still felt contentment flowing from his very soul.

At 7:32 am on Monday, Mulder walked into his basement office at FBI headquarters and went into the back, where he made some coffee before heading over to sit at his desk and check his voicemail. There was nothing promising there, and he got onto the computer to check his email. There was one from his friend Agent Danny Valladeo, which stated something slightly unsettling. Danny had heard through the FBI grapevine that the Director was none too happy about Mulder and Scully's recent appearance on _Cops_ as well as how _The Lazarus Bowl_ turned out, and word had it that he was going to come down hard. Even the Deputy Director seemed nervous. Danny warned Mulder to watch his back. Mulder didn't know what exactly to make of this and then suddenly, at just past 9:00, there was a knock at the office door and he called out for the person to enter. When he caught sight of the man opening the door, Mulder’s eyes bulged and his mouth fell open.

*****

Scully entered the basement office at 9:22 am, speaking before she even had the door fully open, a smile on her face that had stayed there from the moment she’d woken up two hours earlier. “Morning!”

Mulder nodded at her in a sort of warning way, to let her know they weren’t alone in the office. “Morning.”

Realizing that she’d perhaps disturbed her partner’s meeting with someone, something she hadn’t expected, she silently mouthed "Who's that?" to Mulder as she walked over to the desk.

“Special Agent Dana Scully, this is, uh, this is Jay Gilmore,” Mulder hurriedly introduced her.

As she turned to look at him and hold out her hand, she then stifled a scream, “How...!” But she recovered quickly from the sight of Gilmore’s face. His ‘mouth’ consisted of raw flesh held together by stitches. She had to force a pleasant smile.

“...nice to meet you,” finished Scully.

Mulder could barely conceal a laugh at her shock over this man’s face. He knew that Scully wasn’t so easily shocked. As she crossed around the desk to stand beside him, Mulder brought her up on the details of the case and held out the case file to her. Scully took the file and perched on the edge of the filing cabinet. While Gilmore explained his condition and his suspicions of whom or what could’ve caused this to happen to him, she found it hard to pay much attention. Scully thought this whole thing was ridiculous and a waste of their time, but she refused to let it bring down her good mood. She questioned Gilmore, and when she glanced briefly over at Mulder, to see he had been watching her, she immediately noticed how good he looked. The dress shirt he wore made his tan stand out, a remnant of their recent trip to California.

Scully had missed him the night before, and had found it difficult to fall asleep in an empty bed. It wasn’t as though Scully now hated to sleep alone, she just hated to sleep without Mulder next to her. There was a time when this feeling caused great annoyance to Scully, when she’d berate herself for seeming so needy and clingy, and the feeling of missing him at night would scare her and cause her to want to detach herself. She no longer felt that way. Now it just felt strange and uncomfortable not sleeping with Mulder. It was strange not feeling their bodies touch during the night, not feeling him move around in his sleep, not hearing his voice mumbling incoherently, not feeling his hand reflexively fly out to grasp her thighs, as if wanting to reassure himself she was still there. It was strange not waking up in the morning to him clinging to her, his hand cupping her breast, and to his lazy, sleepy kisses. Waking up next to Mulder always made Scully feel needed, always erased whatever bad thing happened the day before.

Later, after they boarded the 12:30 pm nonstop flight to St. Louis, Missouri, Scully sat in the window seat, occasionally glancing to her left to look over at Mulder. She was thinking of California and how good he had looked lying in the sun on the beach, of how good he looked all the time, of how deeply fulfilling their sexual intimacy had been lately, really ever since that night he’d returned from England and she finally let go of whatever had been holding her back from loving him the way she had wanted to. All her reasons seemed silly to her now.

Mulder felt her eyes on him and glanced over, but her head was once again facing downward, reading over the case file again. He still noticed the affectionate, dreamy look on Scully’s face. He grinned, and quickly lowered his head to plant a kiss on the corner of her mouth.

Scully jumped, and scowled at him. “We’re working, Mulder.”

“I missed you last night, and this morning,” he whispered in her ear, a hint of suggestiveness in his tone.

Scully blushed and fought back a smile, before resolutely returning her attention to the file in her lap. But she suddenly felt acutely aware of the heat coming off Mulder’s body to her left, and it made her tingle all over. In an attempt to focus on the work at hand, she pulled out her small black spiral notebook from her jacket pocket, and started jotting down possible medical reasons for Mr. Gilmore’s condition. Several minutes later, Mulder turned back to look at her.

“Can I borrow your notebook for a second?” Mulder asked. “Mine’s somewhere in my bag, and I don’t feel like getting up and taking it out of the overhead bin.”

She sighed, trying not to roll her eyes, and handed her notebook to him. A few seconds later, the notebook was returned to her, and Scully flipped to the page she’d been working on and continued to brainstorm through known medical conditions that could be related to Gilmore’s unfortunate circumstance.

About 30 minutes later, she felt the pressure change in her ears and Mulder handed her a stick of gum, which she gladly accepted. The pilot announced their impending descent into St. Louis, and Scully returned the notebook to her pocket. After landing, they collected their duffel bags from the overhead bin, made their way off the plane and to the Lariat car rental counter.

After retrieving the rental car from the parking lot and throwing their bags in the trunk, they started to make their way out of the airport and turned onto Lambert International Boulevard. Thankfully, it was only about a 10 minute drive to the suburb of Olivette.

“What’s the address again, for this Anson Stokes guy?” asked Mulder.

Scully took out the notebook from her jacket, and flipped through the pages she’d most recently written on. She noticed Mulder’s scrawl on one of the pages, standing out amongst her own precise handwriting, and felt a twinge of annoyance. She expected some theory he had about the case or some obscure fact he’d pulled from the recesses of his mind, and her eyes quickly scanned over the words. Scully paused and stared at what he wrote, feeling surprised: ‘I hate sleeping without your body next to mine.’ Her mouth fell open slightly as she read the words again, emotion clutching at her heart.

“Scully? You got the address?” he asked, turning the car to merge onto highway I-170 South.

“Oh, yeah,” she replied, startled out of her reverie, and flipped the page. “Mark Twain Trailer Court. Dielman Road. It’s right off Olive Boulevard. You’ll see an exit for it coming up soon. Exit 3.”

She then closed the notebook and returned it to her pocket, glancing over at Mulder, who was lost in thought with one hand on the steering wheel and the other rubbing back and forth across his mouth, the words _I love you_ drifting through her mind.

*****

At 6:30 pm, Scully stood waiting in the autopsy bay inside the morgue at St. Louis University Hospital with a pained look etched across her face. She and Mulder had bantered comfortably all day, both maintaining their lingering good moods from their weekend spent in Los Angeles, and she’d felt impatient to get back to D.C. She still believed this case was a complete waste of her time, and had wanted to catch the evening flight back to Washington. But after receiving a phone call from the St. Louis FBI field office about an invisible corpse, Mulder seemed positive the body would turn out to belong to this Anson Stokes character. Scully had no idea how Mulder had come to that conclusion, and he hadn’t seemed inclined to elaborate at the time.

After waiting another several minutes, two morgue attendants wheeled an empty-looking stainless steel gurney into the room. They both looked very uncomfortable.

“Can we go now?” one of them asked Scully.

“Mm-hmm,” she replied, staring at the gurney.

The two men quickly left, and Scully looked skeptically at the neck prop on the gurney. She leaned closer and carefully reached out with a finger. It made contact with something. Scully stared as her hand followed the line of what she guessed must be a shoulder. How was this possible? Without standing up, she turned quickly and ran to the desk in the corner of the room, finding a jar of yellow powder and a brush. She dipped the brush into the powder and tapped it where a face would be. The powder began to define a closed eye. She tapped the brush again and continued to cover the face with the yellow power. An excited grin spread across her face as she gazed down at the invisible corpse in amazement.

Scully quickly pulled out her cell phone and pressed speed dial 1, but unfortunately she only got the voicemail. “Oh, my God, Mulder. You won’t believe this. The body really is invisible. Really! Get over here!” After hanging up the phone, she realized she’d been giggling as she said the words but she didn’t care.

An hour later, Mulder walked into the autopsy bay and saw the invisible corpse of Anson Stokes with his own eyes, due to Scully’s helpful yellow powder. Mulder couldn’t help teasing her as she stood there, dabbing more powder onto the body with a silly grin plastered on her face. Her excitement over this discovery delighted Mulder, as it was rare to see her with the kind of work-related enthusiasm that usually belonged to him.

He walked around the steel gurney, looking intently at the shoulder of the body. “I think you missed a spot here. I can see straight through to his ass.”

Scully walked over and completed the task, dabbing more powder at the spot Mulder had pointed out.

“This is Anson Stokes, huh?” he asked.

“It is,” she replied. “His dental records are a match. He was found about half a mile from his house. He was probably hit by a car or a truck or… something.”

Mulder nodded. “And he's invisible.”

She smiled excitedly. “Yes, he is.”

He then proceeded to tell her a story about Henry Flanken, the man from the photo they’d found in the storage unit, using words like ‘chronic morbid tumescence’ and ‘extreme priapic condition.’ Scully had no idea how such a story related to Anson Stokes.

“Well, I think our mystery woman is the link,” Mulder said. “About whom I can find no information whatsoever. I think she's responsible for all of this.”

“But how?” asked Scully.

He shook his head slightly. “I… I don't know. But… we need to talk to her.”

She glanced down at the corpse. “Uh, I think that I should stay here with the body. I mean, I… you know, I don't think it's a good idea to leave him unguarded. You know, this is truly amazing.”

Mulder smiled at her, understanding her excitement. “Okay.”

He walked through the doors, and Scully happily smiled down at the body. This could change everything. Hard, solid evidence of something that was truly a scientific discovery was right in front of her.

As Mulder started to walk away down the corridor, his mind on Scully and her excited smile and the yellow powder on her scrubs and face, he suddenly felt mischievous and quickly turned around to walk back to the autopsy bay. He opened the doors and Scully spun around to face him with a look of surprise. Mulder walked over determinedly, quickly filling up her personal space, and bent his head, kissing her briefly.

Scully gasped, and stepped back from him. “Mulder! That was completely inappropriate. We are in the morgue. We’re on Bureau time.”

Even as she stood there chastising him, she felt her face redden as she blushed, and she fought back a grin as she saw the yellow powder on Mulder’s nose.

“I know, I know!” he replied, rising up his arms in surrender and walking backwards toward the doors. “I couldn’t help it. You just look so damn cute.”

She arched an eyebrow at Mulder, giving him a steely glare as he left. Scully then started giggling, quickly walking through the doors and calling after him down the hallway. “Mulder, you bastard! I’m gonna get you for that!”

He turned to look back at her as he walked, waggling his eyebrows, before turning the corner, and he was no longer in view.

*****

After spending the night at the Wayside Airport Motel, Scully spent her Tuesday morning at the airport, where she welcomed the research team from Harvard Medical, and then at the St. Louis University Hospital morgue, where she promptly humiliated herself. The invisible body of Anson Stokes was gone. This would’ve been her one shining moment, a discovery that would’ve made her a household name in the field of pathology and maybe even beyond that, a discovery that even her family members would’ve been proud of.

Scully pulled out her cell phone and pressed speed dial 1, only reaching the voicemail. “Mulder, the body is gone. Disappeared. You better get over here.”

Just before noon, Mulder entered the morgue to find a severely morose Scully, wearing her black skirt and green sweater, standing and leaning back against the wall in the autopsy bay which had once held Anson Stokes. She cringed with embarrassment as she related the story of the Harvard Medical team and the missing body.

“I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me, Mulder.”

He sighed, working hard to suppress his laughter. He then performed a search through the morgue, mainly for Scully’s sake, but he knew the body wasn’t anywhere inside. Mulder looked inside an empty locker, the one that had held Anson Stokes’ corpse.

“Oh, I should just shoot myself,” Scully said despondently, holding up her face with her hands as she sat with elbows on the table. “Oh… I was so happy. I was so excited. What was I thinking? An invisible man?”

“You saw it,” replied Mulder. “It was real.”

She couldn’t believe she’d entertained the notion that she could actually be able to hold onto substantial scientific evidence of the paranormal. “I don't know what I saw, Mulder. I do know that having that kind of proof in my hands it was just too good to be true.”

He knew this hadn’t been the result of someone stealing their evidence, in some effort to thwart their work. “I don't think that's why the body disappeared.”

“Why did the body disappear?” asked Scully.

“I think it was the result of a wish being granted,” Mulder replied.

What was he talking about? “A wish? Whose wish?” she asked.

“Well, who would want Anson Stokes back? I mean, really, really back.”

Scully could really only think of one person. “His brother, Leslie.”

Twenty minutes later, they were once again parking their rental car at the Mark Twain Trailer Court. As they approached the trailer belonging to the Stokes brothers, it suddenly exploded violently. Mulder and Scully fell to the ground as debris from the explosion rained down around them. A rolled up rug then hit the ground, and a muffled “Ow” could be heard as it landed behind them. They stared at the rug, and then back to the destroyed trailer.

“Are you all right?” Mulder asked Scully.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she replied as he helped her get up off the ground.

He then walked over and unrolled the rug, the mysterious dark-haired woman appearing inside it wearing sunglasses. Scully stared at her, and then at Mulder.

“Ma’am, do you happen to know how the trailer exploded?” Scully asked the woman.

“I’m surprised it hadn’t exploded long before now, seeing as how those idiots didn’t have two brain cells to rub together,” the woman responded, standing up.

At the sound of approaching fire trucks and emergency personnel, Mulder took the woman into the trailer park’s management office while Scully remained behind on the scene to speak with the emergency responders. After arriving, they quickly put out the fire and discovered the two deceased bodies of the Stokes brothers, and of course Anson Stokes was no longer invisible. Scully heaved a frustrated sigh, and walked over to the management office. Upon entering, she was forced to listen to a ludicrous story featuring life in 15th century France and an ‘Ifrit’ giving this dark-haired woman three wishes.

“My third… I pondered for a great while,” the woman said, continuing with her story. “I didn't want to waste it. So, finally, feeling very intelligent I spoke up and I said ‘Je souhaite un grand pouvoir et une longue vie.’ I wish for great power and long life.”

“And thus became a jinni yourself,” Mulder concluded.

“Gave me the mark of the jinn,” she said, and pointed at the jewel in the corner of her eye. “Right there. It's forever. Sort of like a prison tattoo.”

Scully rubbed her temples. She’d had about all she could stand from this case, and wanted to leave immediately.

“I should've been more specific,” said the woman. “So, am I under arrest?”

“I can't think of anything we have to hold you on,” Scully replied, before looking at Mulder. “And, not surprisingly we don't have any evidence of any of this, so, uh… I think she's free to go.”

“No, I'm not,” the woman said to Scully. “He unrolled me.”

Both women looked at Mulder, his face slowly registering elation as he realized what that meant. “I get three wishes.”

Scully sighed, raising a dubious eyebrow in her partner’s direction. “You can’t seriously believe this, Mulder.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but the woman spoke up before he could say anything in response. “Whether you believe me or not, I can’t go anywhere until he makes his wishes.”

“Then I guess we better get three tickets for a flight back to Washington,” Mulder said, his voice showing a hint of excitement. “I don’t suppose you have any photo I.D. on you? I guess it wouldn’t be too difficult for you to get your hands on one.”

The woman smirked at him. “Shall I go by this ‘Jenn’ name you’ve given me?”

“Well, that’s just great.” Scully glared at Mulder, and silently walked out of the office and back to their rental car. She sat in the passenger seat, frustrated and angry. Her knees and elbows were killing her from falling when the Stokes’ trailer exploded. Anson Stokes was no longer invisible. And now Mulder was supposedly the new master of this jinni woman. Great. That’s just… fucking great.

After spending the rest of the day filling out the necessary paperwork with the local police department concerning the Stokes brothers, as well as another trip to the hospital morgue to collect the paperwork on the examination of Anson Stokes, Mulder, Scully, and Jenn made their way to the airport the following morning and boarded the 6:05 nonstop flight back to Washington. The flight back to D.C. was tense, with Mulder inhabiting the middle seat between Scully and Jenn. He tried to engage the jinni in conversation about who she was and what her life had entailed, but soon Scully’s scoffs and sighs put an end to his attempts to speak to the jinni in front of her.

They arrived at Dulles airport at just past 9:00 am on Wednesday, and as they walked out the Arrivals doors, Mulder turned to Jenn. “I can put you up in a motel nearby until I figure out what to do about this whole ‘three wishes’ thing.”

“Oh, no, I have to stay with you,” Jenn said.

Mulder swallowed and turned to look at Scully, an uncomfortable look spreading across his face.

Her eyes widened. “She’s… going to stay with you… in your apartment?”

“Uh…,” he said, his eyes darting between Scully and Jenn, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

“That’s just the way it is,” replied Jenn, shrugging her shoulders. “Listen, I don’t make the rules.”

Scully shot her an icy stare, turned one more shocked and hardened look at Mulder, and walked away from them, getting into a taxi and heading back home to Georgetown. She had a bad feeling about this Jenn woman, and her bad feelings usually turned out to be right.

*****

Just before 7:00 pm that Wednesday evening, May 24th, Scully arrived at Mulder’s apartment in Alexandria and knocked on the door. He’d called her up and asked her to come over for popcorn and a movie. She no longer felt irritated by the Jenn woman, or all that upset over her miraculous scientific discovery gone in a cloud of yellow dust.

The apartment door opened, and Mulder stood there in a black t-shirt and blue jeans. “I don’t think you have to knock anymore, Scully. Just come in.”

“But the door’s locked, Mulder,” she said as she walked over the threshold.

“You have a key,” he replied, chuckling as he closed and locked the door behind her.

Scully smiled and then followed Mulder into the kitchen, where he was making popcorn. Scully noticed the stick of butter melting on the stovetop, and cringed at the smell. “Don’t put any butter on it.”

He turned to look at her. “What do you mean? You always want butter on your popcorn.”

She scrunched up her face, feeling her gag reflex flare up. “I know, but… no butter this time.”

“All right,” Mulder sighed, and turned off the burner. He then grabbed the popcorn bowl while Scully grabbed the beers out of the refrigerator.

They walked into the living room, where Mulder put a videotape in his VCR. The screen displayed the FBI warning as he picked up the bowl of popcorn and crossed the room to sit beside Scully on the couch.

“I can't believe you don't want butter on your popcorn. Uggh. It's un-American.”

Scully picked up the VHS case. Good grief. She’d been forced to watch this movie before, on several occasions, but fortunately she hadn’t seen it in about 10 years. “ _Caddyshack_ , Mulder?”

“It's a classic American movie,” he replied.

She slumped back against the couch and opened her Shiner Bock beer, feeling at least thankful that he hadn’t yet tried to get her to watch a selection from his more sordid video collection. “That's what every guy says. It's a guy movie.”

He grinned, remembering her emotional display not that long ago. “Okay, when you invite me over to your place we can watch _Steel Magnolias_.”

Scully, inwardly stewing a little over his movie suggestion and wondering if he was ever going to let her live that down, tossed her beer cap across the room, and with a ‘clink’ it landed in the small trash can. Mulder opened his beer and tossed his cap in the same direction. She giggled into her beer as the cap missed the can and fell with a thud to the floor. This was what she needed. The past few days had been a trial of her patience, and she was glad to finally get back to their regular life.

“So, uh… what's the occasion?” Scully asked, knowing they usually spent most of their time at her apartment.

“I don't know,” Mulder replied. “Just felt like the thing to do. Cheers.”

Scully reached over to tap her bottle with his. “Cheers.”

After taking a sip of his beer, he thought about the events of the day and his last wish. “I don't know if you noticed but, um, I never made the world a happier place.”

“Well, I'm fairly happy,” she said. “That's something.”

They looked at each other, and smiled. Mulder felt happy, too.

As the previews ended and the screen announced the feature presentation was about to start, Scully wanted to know what happened with Jenn. “So what was your final wish, anyway?”

Mulder looked at her for a long moment, remembering the wishes he’d wanted to make and the conclusion he’d drawn which threw those ideas out the window. He’d contemplated numerous impossible desires, most of which had somehow revolved around Scully. He’d wished for world peace, and at the heart of that wish was his desire for her to always be safe from harm, so that he could never lose her. Of course, that wish then became fucked up and he did lose her for about an hour, along with the rest of mankind. And then it came down to one final wish. He wanted to keep her safe. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted her to have the chance to be a mother, he wanted to wish away her infertility. Of course, as this would be his final wish, it was irreversible and the jinni could do any number of fucked up things. He wanted to wish that he and Scully would never be parted, for all eternity, but Jenn would probably have just merged them into conjoined twins or something like that fused dime and penny in his desk drawer. So as Mulder had contemplated his deepest heart’s desire, he found that the one thing he wanted most of all he already had and she was right, it was too dangerous to wish for anything else.

Jenn had influenced him to long for the simpler things, to appreciate everything he had instead feeling guilty or unhappy about the things he didn’t, to be content with his life instead of wishing it was different. Jenn wanted to sit in a café and watch the world go by. He just wanted to sit on his couch with his best friend, and watch her drink some beer and eat some popcorn. Mulder smiled happily at Scully and took another swig of his beer as the Kenny Loggins movie theme started, which seemed to fit in perfectly with his mood.

Scully eyed her partner appreciatively as he pointed to the television screen to indicate the movie was starting, and she supposed her curiosity could wait for a later time. The movie was just as she remembered it. Golf, booze, drugs, and lots of sex. Golfing, teen angst, a gopher, and naked baby oil massages. Throughout the movie, Mulder would glance over at Scully with a sly grin and waggle his eyebrows while she just rolled her eyes.

After two beers each and the entire bowl of bland popcorn consumed, they sat there waiting for the credits to roll. Suddenly one of the characters made a joyful announcement to the whole cast as they gathered on a verandah as well as the viewing audience as he tossed a glance behind his shoulder.

“We’re all gonna get laid!”

Mulder glanced over at Scully with another grin, and she smirked at him as that gopher danced to its heart’s content to the Kenny Loggins theme while the credits rolled on the TV screen. She soon started giggling at her sheer disbelief at how utterly ridiculous that movie was.

“What’s so funny?” Mulder asked, smiling at her.

“That move is so dumb!” And she kept on laughing.

He gazed at her and gently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She looked over at him and smiled, a dimple appearing in her cheek, and leaned her body closer to his. When she slowly ran the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip, Mulder threw his arms around her and pulled her into his lap, her legs straddling his hips. Scully’s hands rested against his chest, and she leaned forward to kiss him. Her lips were warm and soft and lusciously pouty, and Mulder’s stomach filled with pleasant butterflies.

Scully’s hand slid up his chest to his face, touching and caressing, as she moved her lips slowly over Mulder’s. Lips and tongues met in languid caresses and strokes. The sound of the slow movement of their clothing against the leather and their hushed whispering filled their ears. The warmth and scent of their bodies flushed against each other filled their other senses. It was slow and sensual. It was delicious. It was magic. And it wasn’t enough. Mulder stood up, Scully’s arms and legs wrapping tightly around him, and he walked them into his bedroom.

Once they were lying on the bed and stripped of their clothes, they made love as if they were re-learning each other’s bodies, even though they had only spent the last three nights apart. It was slow and sensual, filled with warmth, tenderness, and love, and incredibly intense. Finally, the slow and sensual grew into that lustful, hungry need to finish.

Mulder needed more and he groaned as he squirmed beneath Scully. “Faster,” he whimpered. “Go faster.”

“Mmm, not yet,” Scully breathed, and he realized that she was going to do the same to him as he’d been doing to her. She was going to draw it out, and torture him.

She trailed kisses over his face, his brows, eyelids, cheeks. Mulder’s mouth sought hers and he groaned against her lips, “God, Scully, I want to...”

“I know,” she whispered against his mouth.

Mulder desperately arched his hips up beneath her. “Scully… I can’t… Please, I need… God, faster… Please… now, now…”

She smirked down at him, a glint of mischief in her eyes, and he couldn’t take it anymore. His arms wrapped around her and he quickly rolled them back over to their original position. He surged to life over her. He was holding her, and he was buried deep inside. He thrust hard and fast, and sobbed her name in relief, as he felt the heat of his release begin to build up.

The pressure of Scully’s legs around his ribs made Mulder groan, and he looked down at what was happening between them, dark brown tangled with auburn, hard met softness, disappearing into depths that were hot and wet and tight around him. Scully tilted her pelvis, allowing more of her inviting depth to swallow him, and he met the resistance at the apex of his stroke, her cervix. If only he could pour out his life onto it and give her what she wanted, what he wanted. If only he could’ve wished her infertility away, if only a miracle was actually possible.

The thought sent Mulder’s stomach into even tighter knots and Scully moaned as he thrust hard against her cervix, the coiling tension at her center about to burst. He had brought her to the brink many times since they began, only to stop and slow down again before she could come, emotions and bodies building towards a powerful crescendo, which was now finally overtaking them as they both rode out their shared orgasm, loud moans and cries filling his bedroom.

They laid trembling and sweating and clinging to each other, softly kissing as their bodies quivered with aftershocks. Mulder gazed down at her affectionately and Scully returned his gaze, reaching up to gently stroke the side of his face. The words _I love you_ rolled about silently within their thoughts, as if they were waves of the sea.

“You are so beautiful, Scully,” he whispered.

She snorted, smiling. “Are you ever going to tell me what your third wish was?”

Mulder avoided having to answer by asking her a question instead. “What would you have wished for?”

“Nothing,” Scully replied without hesitation.

He stared at her, his eyes widening. “Nothing?”

“I don’t want to think about anything I could possibly want, but can’t ever have,” she whispered. “I want to enjoy my life as it is. I don’t want to wish it away for something different. I have no regrets. Besides, I already have everything I need.”

He smiled down at her, but felt slightly puzzled by her answer. Mulder had a fleeting notion of telling Scully she was fucking crazy, that she deserved so much more than what she had right now. But he said nothing, and moved to lie on the bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to him, nuzzling her face and neck. She smelled good. They smelled good, like sweat and sex, his own smell mixed with her scent, sweet and pungent and undeniably female. He inhaled deeply as he held her close, not wanting her to roll away from him to sleep, and whispered, “Don’t move. Let’s stay just like this.”

As they slowly drifted off to sleep with arms and legs entangled, they felt content and secure with the feelings of intimacy and warmth between them, and the look in each other’s eyes. The look where they silently promised each other that they were here to stay, and they weren’t going anywhere. The look where they promised each other forever.


	75. "I knew there was a reason to live."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully return to Bellefleur, Oregon to investigate alien abductions during an official evaluation into the X-Files by the Bureau, leading to an unexpected decision by Mulder and unexpected news for Scully.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of the episode "Requiem" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> Sidenote: As a heads up, the chapters dealing with Season 8 (and Season 9, for that matter) will not be an entire-season-episode-by-episode chronicle like the Season 7 chapters were. As this story is mainly dealing with the progression of Mulder and Scully's relationship, there won't be a lot of chapters centered around their separation. So, while 75 chapters got us to this point, there won't be nearly that many chapters dealing with Seasons 8 and 9 and beyond. At least I don't think it's likely. So, for as heartbroken and tearstained as I am after writing this, I'm gonna cheer up because Mulder will be back with us before we know it. Unfortunately, he's gonna act like a real dick when he gets back. So prepare yourselves...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Green Day – “Last Night On Earth”
> 
> I text a postcard, sent to you  
> Did it go through?  
> Sending all my love to you  
> You are the moonlight of my life  
> Every night  
> Giving all my love to you
> 
> My beating heart belongs to you  
> I walked for miles 'til I found you  
> I'm here to honor you  
> If I lose everything in the fire  
> I'm sending all my love to you
> 
> With every breath that I am worth  
> Here on Earth  
> I'm sending all my love to you  
> So if you dare to second guess  
> You can rest  
> Assured that all my love's for you
> 
> My beating heart belongs to you  
> I walked for miles 'til I found you  
> I'm here to honor you  
> If I lose everything in the fire  
> I'm sending all my love to you
> 
> My beating heart belongs to you  
> I walked for miles 'til I found you  
> I'm here to honor you  
> If I lose everything in the fire  
> Did I ever make it through?

Mulder and Scully were woken up on Thursday morning, May 25th, to the jarring sound of the 6:00 alarm on his bedside table. He reached over and shut it off, before turning back to wrap his arms around her and pull her closer to him. Scully sighed and nuzzled against his neck.

“Good morning,” whispered Mulder.

“I don’t wanna get up,” she groaned.

He chuckled, and then Scully started to pull away, before sitting up in bed. Mulder stared up at her strong back, his eyes roaming from her shoulders down to the small dimples above her ass.

“I suppose I should get dressed and go home,” she sighed.

Mulder’s hand reached out to caress Scully’s naked back. “I was thinking, uh, maybe you should leave some clothes here.”

She turned to look at him, a small smile slowly spreading across her face.

“I can make room in my closet,” Mulder continued, grinning as she started to move towards him. “I mean, I’ve got clothes at your place. It only makes sense that you leave some here, too.”

Scully nodded, smiling as she slid her body over his, lying on top of him, the glint in her eyes filled with amusement and happiness. All too soon, reality rushed in around them again. Desperate to hang on to the moments of bliss, Scully clung to Mulder as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her to his chest. She inexplicably felt tears begin to prick her eyes, and felt slightly annoyed at her heightened emotions of late, inwardly groaning at her PMS.

After showering and getting dressed, Mulder and Scully left his apartment together, before heading their separate ways, Mulder to FBI headquarters and Scully back home to Georgetown to get ready for work.

As Mulder approached his basement office at 7:45 am, he found the door open and Assistant Director Skinner waiting just inside the doorway. As he peered into his office, he also saw two men in suits emptying his filing cabinets and placing his X-files into the white cardboard storage boxes that were on a wheeled metal cart. He stepped inside his office with a knotted stomach.

“Agent Mulder,” Skinner said as he turned to face him.

“What the hell’s going on?” he asked.

Skinner gave him a long look before clearing his throat. “Your department is being audited.”

He watched the agents taking more of his files out of the cabinets. “Under whose orders?”

“The Director,” replied Skinner.

Mulder sighed. “What’s this about?”

One of the agents turned around to face him, acknowledging his presence in the office for the first time. The agent looked to be in his late 30’s or early 40’s, was balding, and wore glasses. “Special Agent Chesty Short. The Director has instructed the accounting department to perform a cost/benefit evaluation of the X-Files, Agent Mulder.”

As he turned to look at Skinner, locking eyes, Mulder felt his heart sinking into his stomach. Was this what Danny had warned him about?

“How long is this gonna take?” asked Mulder.

“We’re hoping to have our numbers crunched by the end of the morning,” Agent Short replied. “The Director wants this completed right away. We’ll also be meeting with you and Agent Scully during the evaluation process, which could take several days once we turn our report in to the Director. Do you happen to know when you expect Agent Scully to arrive?”

Mulder sighed again, and gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I’m sure she’ll be here by 9:00.”

Agent Short nodded, and went back to removing files from the cabinets. Ten minutes later, the agents from the accounting department and the files were gone.

“What’s really going on here, sir?” Mulder asked, walking over to stand behind his desk.

Skinner shoved his hands in his pockets. “The Director feels that more attention needs to be paid to what you do down here, especially now that the recent surge of media attention around you has increased public awareness of your work at the FBI.”

He sat down at his desk and sighed, shaking his head. He had a bad feeling about this. “What kind of chance do I have of keeping the X-Files open?”

“I can’t say,” replied Skinner. “But if I were you, I’d give some serious thought to any long-term plans you might have that don’t involve staying down here in the basement.”

Mulder stared after Skinner as he departed the office. Despite his uneasiness over what was happening, he found he wasn’t filled with the same kind of anger or despair as he’d endured in the past when the X-Files had been taken away from him. The first time he’d been removed from the X-Files, his partnership with Scully dissolved, and he was forced to transcribe wire taps six years ago, he’d felt lost and hopeless. When OPR took the X-Files away from him and he’d suddenly found himself working under Kersh, he hadn’t been filled with the same kind of despair because despite the Bureau’s threats to do so, he and Scully hadn’t been separated. Sure he was bitterly angry over it, their assignment was boring, mind-numbing routine, and his work had come almost to a standstill, but he still had Scully and so it wasn’t so terrible. It could’ve been worse.

But as Mulder sat at his desk, he realized that if the X-Files were indeed taken away from him after this evaluation by the Director, there would be no getting them back; that this would be the end. He also realized, with some surprise, that this wouldn’t be the end of the world. It was bound to end sometime, sooner or later, and it had only been a matter of when. Mulder thought back to his work over the past year, and again admitted to himself that he hadn’t accomplished very much since recovering from his illness last summer. He’d worked some interesting cases but as far as making progressive steps forward, not much had been attained.

*****

Scully heaved a sigh as she walked into the basement office at 9:06 am, approaching Mulder’s desk and sitting down in the chair facing him. He looked her over, noticing she seemed bothered by something.

“You all right?” Mulder asked tentatively. He wondered if she’d found out about the audit.

“I’m fine,” Scully brusquely replied, crossing her arms in front of her. She’d stepped on the scale that morning to find she’d gained another pound, and she’d spent the rest of her morning grumbling over it.

He looked at her. “Come on, what is it?”

She sighed, and shrugged her shoulders. “It’s nothing, really. I’ve put on some weight, and I’m just irritated by it.”

Mulder stared at her, believing this subject matter was dangerous territory. “Well, it’s not noticeable.”

“To me it is,” Scully replied tersely, looking down at her lap.

He immediately wanted to change the subject. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard about the official evaluation our department is getting?”

She looked up to stare at him. “What? What kind of an evaluation?”

“The Director has requested a financial evaluation into the X-Files, to determine whether the benefits outweigh the costs,” replied Mulder. “And they took our files… to evaluate them.”

Scully’s eyes widened slightly. “You’re not worried, are you?”

Mulder found he could answer honestly, no matter what the outcome, and shook his head. “No, I’m not.”

She smiled, and nodded. At that moment the phone rang, and after locking eyes with Scully, he reached to press the speaker phone button.

“Mulder.”

“Agent Mulder, this is Chesty Short. I need you to meet with me in my office at 11:00. I assume you know where the Accounting Department is.”

“I’ll be there,” he replied, looking at Scully, before hanging up the phone.

At 10:45 am, Mulder shut off the computer and stood up from his desk, looking over at Scully sitting at her table in the back, typing on her computer.

“I hope we get those files back soon,” she said, without looking over at him. “Quarterly is next Friday.”

Mulder groaned. He had forgotten. After grabbing his suit jacket from the back of his office chair, he walked over to lean against the glass partition. “Do you wanna have lunch in the park today?”

Scully looked up at him and smiled, feeling pleasantly surprised. “Sure.”

He nodded, and then left the office. Mulder took the elevator to the second floor and made his way past the human resources office, to the accounting department. He then approached Agent Short’s desk and sat down in the chair beside it. The desk was piled with X-file cases and receipts.

“Thanks for coming,” Agent Short greeted him. “We’re just about finished with calculating the expenses your department has incurred for the past year and I have to say, things aren’t looking very good.”

Mulder sighed. Agent Short proceeded to discuss the cost of airline travel, motel rooms, and the gas and meal expenses put on their FBI-issued credit card. He then took a manila file folder containing their car rental receipts, and started to add them up on his tape machine calculator.

“Lariat car rentals. Totals…” Agent Short looked at the total and whistled at the amount. “Would you like to see the figure?”

He handed the tape to Mulder, who glanced at it and noted the $1,033.56 amount, before handing the tape back to Agent Short.

“Is that a lot?” Mulder asked.

Agent Short stared at him. “A lot? Gas, expenses. The motel rooms alone. By FBI standards these numbers are out of control.”

“We could start sharing rooms,” Mulder deadpanned.

Special Agent Short paused, staring at him unamused. “You're under evaluation. There has to be a point when we say no.”

“You can't really compare what we do to other departments in the Bureau,” replied Mulder.

“Right. This business with aliens.”

Mulder felt himself growing impatient with Agent Short’s self-important tone. “Well, there's more to it than that.”

“But at the end of the day, you'd say aliens are your real focus,” Agent Short replied.

“That's the reason I got started, yeah,” Mulder said defensively.

Agent Short grabbed one of the X-files on his desk, looking down at it. “Investigating your sister's abduction and the government conspiracy around it. Both of which have been resolved, correct?”

Mulder felt contempt for the accountant rising up in the pit of his stomach. “Nothing has been resolved exactly.”

“In this case report here it's concluded your sister is dead as well as the men who took her,” Agent Short stated unsympathetically. “This is your handwriting here on the report, Agent Mulder?”

He showed Mulder the file, and he glanced down at it. “Yeah.”

“So, what exactly is left to investigate?” asked Agent Short.

Mulder sighed. “There is a lot more to the supernatural than simply the existence of aliens. There are crimes that are committed, lives that are lost, due to paranormal occurrences on a regular basis. Who’s to say these people’s lives are no more deserving of justice or these crimes are in no more need of prosecution than those which can be attributed to more every day causes. The work Agent Scully and I perform is an important public service, one that you’d be hard pressed to find two other law enforcement agents that are qualified to pursue.”

Agent Short sighed and sat back in his chair. “Agent Mulder, this evaluation isn’t really about whether or not what you do is valid. It’s about whether or not what you do is in the FBI’s best interests. And from what I can see, the money just keeps bleeding out with not much benefit to the Bureau. The upside to this, is that once you know exactly how much money is bleeding out, you can more successfully strategize and cut costs. Anyways, that’s all for now. Let Agent Scully know that I’d like to see her up here after her lunch break.”

Mulder nodded silently and stood up from the chair, and then gave the accountant a look. "I think a successful way to cut that motel room cost in half is to start renting one room instead of two."

Agent Short stared at him, again unamused.

"See? I'm strategizing already." Mulder then walked out of the accounting office, heading back to the elevators.

*****

At 12:41 pm, Mulder and Scully were in John Marshall Park, sitting on the blanket she had grabbed from the trunk of her car and placed down on the grass. It was a beautiful spring day, warm and sunny. The park was filled with casual visitors, mostly government employees also enjoying their lunch breaks. Mulder had already finished the capicola and spicy ham sandwich he’d gotten when they’d stopped at Downtown Deli on their way to the park, and was sipping from his Coca-Cola bottle while Scully finished up her mixed greens salad.

He gazed at her stocking-clad feet, crossed in front of her at the ankles and devoid of shoes, which had been kicked off and were lying at one corner of the blanket. Mulder started to seriously consider an existence beyond the X-Files. He wasn’t exactly sure what he would do with himself all day, but he’d have Scully, so it probably wouldn’t be so bad. There were a hundred things she could do, she was capable of so much more than he was. What exactly was he qualified for? Other than chasing after monsters with a badge and a gun? He supposed he could retire. By simply walking away from the X-Files, their lives would immediately be so much safer, and so there wouldn’t really be a need for the emergency black box. So, technically, he didn’t exactly need to work in order to pay the rent and put food on the table.

But what his life would be after he was finished with the X-Files was a blurred image to Mulder. The X-Files had been the only life he’d known for the past nine years. He supposed he could continue his work in his own way, without the FBI, but that would present challenges. The biggest challenge being Scully. For all her renewed commitment to the work, Mulder suspected that deep down she’d be open to moving on. And without the X-Files and the FBI, there wouldn’t be any real compelling force to motivate her to continue this kind of work. She’d want to just get on with her life. With a feeling of surprise, Mulder found that idea nonthreatening, the idea of getting on with his life and leaving the X-Files behind didn’t fill him with fear or trepidation.

“Oh, my mom called while you were meeting with Chesty,” Scully grinned, placing her empty salad carton into the plastic bag.

“Yeah?” he smirked. She’d taken to derisively referring to Agent Short by his first name, something that made Mulder feel a little better.

Scully took a sip from her bottle of water before replying. “She’s having a Memorial Day BBQ at her house on Monday afternoon, and she’d like for you to come.”

Mulder started to give her a small smile, which quickly turned into a grimace. “Is Bill Jr gonna be there?”

“No, he isn’t,” she replied, smirking at him. “But Charlie and Jennifer and the kids are going. I’m guessing Jack would be excited for you to be there.”

He smiled, and slid closer to her on the blanket. Their eyes met, gazing at one another, and Mulder leaned over to softly press his lips against Scully’s.

She broke the kiss, whispering, “We’re working, Mulder.”

His face pulled just inches back from her, grinning. “No, we’re not. We’re on our lunch break.”

“Mulder, there are other government workers in the park right now, possibly even FBI agents. Someone will recognize us.”

“I don’t care anymore, Scully. We’re not in any danger. There’s no government conspiracy. There’s no one watching us, listening to us. Not anymore. You were right. They don’t give a damn about us. We’re no longer a threat. We’re just a big red number on the FBI’s budget.”

She sighed at his bitter tone, and watched him sitting there dejectedly. “Kiss me again,” Scully whispered.

Mulder turned his head to look at her, and smiled. He then kissed her ardently, his hand moving to sink his fingers in her hair.

An hour later, Scully was sitting in the chair beside Agent Short’s desk, where he reiterated the numbers he’d calculated regarding the expenses of their traveling all over the country to conduct their investigations.

“I see the money bleed out, but it just doesn't seem to make the results of your work any better,” Agent Short said. “So many of the cases you investigate are left unexplained. Makes it hard to justify the expense.”

“So much of the work that we do cannot be measured in standard terms,” Scully explained.

“How would you measure it?” he asked.

“We open doors with the X-Files, which lead to other doors.”

Agent Short picked up a case file. “Doors leading to… ‘A conspiracy of men who cooperated with alien beings to create human-alien hybrids.’ So we could all become slaves of an alien invasion.”

Scully stared at him as he read disdainfully, and decided to give this asshole as direct an answer as she saw fit. “I believe that there was once a conspiracy. I believe I was taken by men who subjected me to medical tests, which gave me cancer and left me barren.”

“But you don't believe in aliens,” Agent Short stated.

“I've seen things that I cannot deny,” Scully replied.

He looked down at the case file again. “Like, say this, uh… ‘black virus,’ which, if I were exposed to it under certain conditions, would grow an alien being inside me.”

She stared at him. “I’ve seen the virus.”

“But not an actual alien,” replied Agent Short.

Scully swallowed, pausing. “I was taken there, to Antarctica. But due to my weakened condition, no, I didn’t personally witness this happening. However, Agent Mulder did. And there’s no reason to believe he didn’t.”

Agent Short brought his hands up to his eyes, rubbing with his fingers. “You started seven years ago with the promise to be objective. But I can’t see your assignment to the X-Files has paid off for the FBI. You have some 160 case files here, but not once have you drawn any good, hard conclusion.”

“It’s the nature of the work,” Scully replied calmly.

“That’s the same answer I get from Agent Mulder,” he said.

 _Well, there you have it_ , she thought, pursing her lips and raising her eyebrows.

He stared at her. “Seems to me you’re not objective at all.”

“Agent Mulder says I keep him honest, as a scientist and a medical doctor,” replied Scully.

“And a scientist is unbiased,” Agent Short stated. “But because you don’t refute Agent Mulder’s findings, my conclusion would be you’re a believer.”

Scully stared at him, silent.

“We sign your checks every week. I just need to put down here what all the money’s going for.”

She nodded. “I’ve seen evidence of the paranormal… that hasn’t made me exactly a complete disbeliever.”

Agent Short smirked at her, nodding his head. “That is all, Agent Scully. The evaluation is finished, at least my part in it. My report will go to the Director this afternoon, and then I can assume you’ll hear from him at some time in the near future.”

After she made her way back down to the basement office, their X-files were soon returned. Mulder and Scully then spent the remainder of the afternoon filing their cases away back into the cabinets. Just before 4:30 pm, the office phone rang and it was Agent Short asking Mulder to return to his office. He begrudgingly left the basement and headed back up to the second floor.

Scully remained behind, finishing up the filing and hoping they would be able to leave work after Mulder returned. It had been a long, trying day. She turned around and caught sight of the poster behind Mulder’s desk, remembering that Agent Short had called her a ‘believer.’ Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn’t so skeptical anymore. But that wasn’t without good reason. She thought back to the young woman she was when she walked into this office for the first time and laid eyes on that poster. In some ways she was the same person, but in many other ways she was so very different. She never could’ve imagined in her wildest dreams everything that she was going to see and do. Where would she be if she’d never been assigned to work on the X-Files? Who would she be? She owed so much to Mulder, to their work together. Scully liked the person she’d become, even if that was a believer. Her eyes and her mind were open, unlike that close-minded weasel in the accounting department.

Mulder entered Agent Short’s office, contempt and annoyance flooding his stomach. “You said you were finished.”

“Turned in my report and was asked to go over a few things,” Agent Short replied, before indicating for Mulder to sit down in the chair.

He remained standing.

Seemingly unbothered by this, Agent Short continued. “As you know, the times we live in, the world is changing fast.”

“I'm missing your point,” said Mulder, after a brief pause and sarcastic head shake.

Agent Short turned to look at him. “As I said, this is an evaluation, Agent Mulder, to understand what you do, so if you go forward, you can do so more responsibly.”

Mulder sat down in the chair, and stared at the accountant. “That sounds more like a threat.”

“Cost/benefit analysis,” Agent Short stated. “But, if you want the truth, I really don't care one way or the other. You mostly record bizarre facts on bizarre cases. In other words, information gathering. Something, it seems to me, you can easily do on the Internet.”

“I can't do my job from an office, I promise you,” replied Mulder.

“Nowadays, the most advanced space exploration is done sitting in an office, Agent Mulder. Why? It's just too damn expensive putting men in outer space.”

Mulder felt anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach. “I'm not looking in outer space.”

Agent Short nodded. “Bringing us to the point. If you spend so much time and money looking for aliens, responsibly you should narrow your search.”

“To where?” Mulder asked sarcastically.

“Wherever they are,” Agent Short replied. “It's not unreasonable. It's just a matter of reducing your vision.”

Mulder glared at him. He’d like to fucking reduce this guy’s vision. He stood up from the chair and started to walk away from the desk.

Agent Short stood up, and called after him. “Oh, Agent Mulder, one more thing.”

He turned around, and walked a couple steps back towards the desk.

“You are not to take on any more cases until the evaluation is completed,” stated Agent Short.

“Excuse me?” replied Mulder defensively, staring at him.

Agent Short nodded, with a slight smirk. “The Director needs to go over my report, and then he’ll make a decision. Nothing you need to worry about, though. I doubt you and Agent Scully need to use the excuse of having a case in order to share a motel room, although maybe that's necessary for a woman as frigid as her. That would certainly be a more reasonable explanation for your weekly road trips.”

Rage filled Mulder’s stomach as he looked at the sneer plastered on Agent Short’s face, and he lunged for him. Agent Short’s eyes widened in fear and he tripped backwards trying to get away. Other agents in the office quickly ran over to intervene as Mulder’s swinging arm smacked the glasses off Agent Short’s face just before he stumbled backwards and landed on his ass behind his desk.

Mulder then turned around and walked determinedly out of the office, down the hallway to the stairwell, where he walked down the two flights to the basement. He then made a right turn into his office doorway, where he saw Scully standing behind his desk, staring at his ‘I Want To Believe’ poster.

“I think I'm in big trouble,” he said, a sheepish look on his face.

Scully turned from the poster to face him. “Oh, Mulder, how many times have they tried to shut us down?”

“Yeah, but I never actually assaulted an auditor before,” he replied.

She stared at him in surprise, and instead of feeling disappointed in him over such behavior, she found herself feeling amused, and she smiled. “Did you hurt him?”

Mulder brought his hand up to rub his forehead. “I reduced his vision a little bit.”

The office telephone started ringing and he turned to answer it on speakerphone. “Mulder.”

“Agent Fox Mulder?” asked a male voice.

“Speaking.”

“My name is Billy Miles. I don't know if you remember me.”

Mulder locked eyes with his partner, both remembering clearly. “Oregon, seven years ago. You had multiple abduction experiences. I'm here with Agent Scully.”

“Billy, are you all right?” she asked.

“Yeah. This may seem weird, me calling like this, but, uh, I don't know where else to turn.”

Mulder could only think of one reason he would be calling. “It happening again, Billy?”

“Yeah, but not to me this time,” Billy replied, before hanging up the phone.

Scully looked up at her partner as he hung up the phone to the sound of the dial tone.

“More alien abductions, Scully,” Mulder said, somewhat temptingly.

“Hmm, I don't know how we could possibly justify the expense,” she replied thoughtfully, a slight hint of sarcasm to her tone, as she walked around Mulder, heading for the doorway.

He turned to follow her. “We'd probably turn up nothing.”

Scully smirked, and continued towards the doorway. “Let's go waste some money.”

They both left the office, smiling, and made their way to the FBI’s parking garage.

*****

On Friday, May 26th, Scully and Mulder boarded the 7:00 am US Airways flight out of Washington, D.C., and after an hour layover in Charlotte, North Carolina, they boarded the 9:30 flight to Portland, Oregon, expecting to arrive around 12:30 pm. A flight attendant passed by Mulder with the drink cart as he sat in the aisle seat, wearing his reading glasses, and looking through the original case file on Billy Miles and the other abductees from Bellefleur, Karen Swenson, Ray Soames, Teresa Nemman, and Peggy O’Dell.

Scully sat by the window, looking through the autopsy reports and medical records on the victims. She suddenly felt a strong wave of nausea, and started to breathe deeply through her nose and exhale slowly out her mouth.

“Are you okay, Scully?” Mulder asked, looking up from the file.

“I think I’ve got motion sickness or something,” she replied, continuing her slow, deep breathing technique.

The overhead lights came on, signaling passengers to fasten their seatbelts. The pilot then announced they were now approaching the Portland airport and were about to make their descent.

Mulder started put the file away, taking the autopsy reports from Scully, when the plane started shaking violently. Passengers screamed and belongings were tossed about, bags falling out of the overhead bins, as Scully grabbed on to Mulder’s wrist. The plane was then brought under control, and she sighed in relief. She looked at Mulder, and they locked eyes.

“This must be the place,” Scully said.

He smirked, nodding. “You feeling all right?”

She took a deep breath. “I think I’ll feel a lot better once we land.”

After landing and disembarking the plane, they retrieved a car rental from the Lariat counter and drove northwest, coming upon the sign ‘Welcome to Bellefleur, Oregon’ just 90 minutes later. Not long after, they were pulling their rental car into the driveway of Billy Miles. As they got out of the car and started to approach the house, Mulder felt a strong sense of déjà vu and paused. Scully turned back to look at him, his suit jacket removed and the sleeves of his cornflower blue dress shirt rolled up to his elbows.

“This was our first case together, Scully. Does it feel strange… coming back here after all this time?”

“Does it feel strange to you?”

Mulder closed his eyes and raised his arms, slightly shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know. What’s the feeling when you… when you walk down an old path but you’re, you’re a different person?”

“You mean for all that’s changed?” Scully asked.

“Oh, well, for all that hasn’t,” he replied.

She nodded her head. They were different people from when they started on this path together, and here they were back here in Bellefleur, Oregon, a town that didn’t look all that much different from when they left it.

Billy Miles then came out of the house, dressed in his brown sheriff’s deputy uniform. Mulder and Scully were pleased to see him, and that he seemed to be doing well. It was a nice thing to see, considering the state he’d been in when they’d last seen him. When Scully saw the wedding ring on his finger, she felt truly happy for Billy Miles, happy that he could overcome what had happened to him and live something resembling a normal life. But unfortunately he revealed that the marriage hadn’t worked out.

After Billy explained about the crashed navy jet, the unidentified craft, and the missing deputy, they encountered Billy’s father, Detective Miles, who appeared just as miserable as he’d been seven years ago. The four of them then drove out to the crash site on Rural Highway 133, experiencing déjà vu all over again as Mulder and Scully once again came face to face with the large spray-painted ‘X’ on the road. They both remembered that night, when their car lost power on the road and nine minutes seemingly disappeared into thin air.

Scully walked along the road, checking out the site, and found three shell casings from a .38 revolver. Billy Miles then confirmed that the deputy carried a .38 super. The deputy had clearly been shooting at something over here, but what that might’ve been Mulder and Scully could only guess, although they each had their suspicions. After Scully learned that the missing deputy, Ray Hoese, had a wife and child, her and Mulder drove back into town to speak with the deputy’s wife.

Upon arriving at the deputy’s home and knocking on the front door, the door was answered by a young woman who looked to be in her mid to late 20’s. As Scully held out her FBI badge and identified herself, Mulder recognized the woman immediately as Teresa Nemman, the girl who had come to them for help after Peggy O’Dell had been killed, believing she was going to be taken and killed as well. Teresa seemed shocked to see them on her porch, and then quickly invited them inside as her baby started crying. As they stepped inside the house, Scully looked back at Mulder as he tilted his head and gave her his ‘déjà vu’ look again. They then sat down in a couple living room chairs, facing the couch where Teresa sat holding her months old son.

“I'm sorry,” Teresa said. “I sort of lost it when I realized who you were.”

“We, uh, we came to see if there's anything that you could tell us that might help to find your husband,” said Scully.

“We had no idea you were his wife,” Mulder added.

Teresa nodded. “I don't know if it's important. Maybe I just hope it's not, but Ray and I have a connection that's even deeper for us.”

Mulder looked at her, realization dawning. “He's an abductee, too?”

“He kept it a secret from almost everyone,” Teresa replied. “It doesn't make you real popular around here.” Her baby then started fussing, and she picked it up to sit on her lap, rubbing the baby’s back. Mulder glanced over at Scully.

She watched Teresa soothing her son, and she gazed at them affectionately. It was a very cute baby.

“His experiences were a lot more terrifying than mine,” Teresa continued. “He was taken many times and tested. I have extensive medical records on him and photos of his scars. I'll get you the files.”

Mulder nodded as Teresa stood up and handed the baby to Scully. “Can you hold him?”

She quickly glanced over at Mulder as she took the baby, feeling a little embarrassed even though she wasn’t exactly sure why. But then she cuddled the child on her lap as Teresa went in search of the files. Scully took a rubber yellow squeaky duck from the coffee table and showed it to the baby. Mulder watched her cuddle the baby, suddenly feeling overwhelmed as a flurry of mixed emotions flooded his stomach.

“What do you see?” Scully said quietly to the baby. “What do you see?”

After first refusing the toy duck, he then grabbed and squeezed it to make the squeaky noise. Mulder watched Scully wistfully, a slight smile on his face, as she began singing softly to the baby. He watched her eyes light up, noticed how quickly she became absorbed in playing with the baby, saw how naturally it came to her. Mulder’s heart constricted, but he also noticed that Scully didn’t really seem melancholy at all. Soon after Teresa returned with her husband’s medical records, and Mulder and Scully departed her home. They got into their rental car, and he started to back out of the driveway.

“So what do we do now, Mulder?” Scully asked as she buckled her seatbelt.

He swallowed, pausing. He momentarily thought of driving her back to the airport and sending her home to Washington. What was she even doing here? He thought of the young woman who had walked into his basement office seven years ago. The young woman with her whole life ahead of her, with no inclination that she would ever suffer cancer and infertility, among other tragedies, by aligning herself with him. And here they were, back in Bellefleur again. And for what? What was the point anymore?

“Mulder? You okay?”

He turned to look over at Scully’s concerned expression. “I’m fine. Just getting tired.” He glanced at the clock on the dashboard and saw it was almost 5:00 pm. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, I’m starving,” she replied emphatically.

He chuckled. “Okay, let’s get something to eat. And I suppose we should check into a motel.”

They drove to the Silver Cloud Motel, the same place they’d stayed at seven years ago, and checked into two rooms. The motel appeared to had undergone an extensive renovation since they were last there. After Mulder showered and changed into a black t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, they drove to a local diner. While Scully had heartily enjoyed her fish dinner, she noticed her partner hadn’t eaten very much. He’d also barely spoken 10 words to her since they sat down in the booth.

“Mulder, are you all right? You’re awfully quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he sighed.

She looked at him thoughtfully. “Are you worried about the X-Files? About the audit? We’re probably in serious trouble for coming out here.”

“That’s the last thing I’m worried about,” Mulder scoffed, before taking a sip of his iced tea.

Scully nodded, and wondered what was bothering him. She dropped the subject, knowing he would eventually tell her in his own time. She pushed her plate away and groaned.

“I shouldn’t have eaten something fried, but it was so good,” said Scully.

Mulder shrugged. “Live a little.”

“But I’ve gained three pounds in five weeks,” she replied. “I should’ve had a salad.”

“Like I said before, it’s not noticeable,” Mulder said. “Besides, it’s not a big deal. It’s just three pounds.”

She sighed. “It’s noticeable to me. Even my clothes are feeling tight. It’s important to stay as fit as possible. Can’t chase after alien spaceships if I’m so round I can’t fit into my pants anymore.” She winked at Mulder, grinning.

He looked at her, smiling, and reached his hand across the table to play with her fingers. “You’re supposed to be round and soft, Scully. You’re a woman. And there’s a lot more to life than chasing alien spaceships.”

Scully chuckled, nodding her head. “Let’s get out of here.”

Once they paid the check, they drove back to the motel, and after saying goodnight, retreated to their respective rooms.

Mulder sat up on his motel bed, with his back against some pillows and his legs stretched out in front of him. It was after 7:00 pm and he had the television turned on, but the volume muted. His mind kept returning to the image of Scully holding that baby at Teresa Hoese’s house. Something clutched at him and ached deep in his chest, and he clenched his fists in helpless rage.

He wanted so much for Scully. As this thought came to him, he realized that he actually wanted things for himself, personal things he’d tried to never think of over the years. He’d never given much thought to fatherhood, had done everything in his power to avoid ever having to think of it. At least until the word ‘IVF’ entered into his vernacular. Mulder not only felt for Scully, but he now felt a deep sense of loss for himself. He not only wanted her to experience the joy of motherhood, he wanted to see her round with pregnancy and with that radiant glow as she carried his child. He wanted to watch Scully hold his child in her arms while he contentedly nursed at her swollen breast.

The FBI was up in arms over the cost of their motel bills, rental cars and gas, plane tickets and meals. The FBI cared nothing for the loss of their family members, everything they had to give up to devote their lives to the work. The FBI didn’t care about that. But Mulder did. Maybe it was necessary to come full circle, to end where they had begun. It was time to move on. And as he moved off the bed to gather the medical records on Deputy Ray Hoese, Mulder was determined that this would be their last case.

*****

As Scully unpacked her pajamas from her duffel bag, laying them on the bed, the tension headache which had started out as a dull throb in the front of her head when they left the diner was now full-blown pain, like a band tightening around her forehead. When she turned to walk towards the bathroom, she suddenly felt dizzy. She quickly turned back to sit on the bed, breathing deeply. After a couple minutes, her dizzy spell seemed to have dissipated and she no longer felt like the room was spinning. She moved off of the bed and walked into the bathroom to turn on the shower, but as she pushed back the shower curtain she suddenly felt cold to the bone and started shivering, despite the warm night.

What was going on? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been sick. It had to have been when she was suffering from cancer. She hadn’t really been ill since. She wanted to be with Mulder, and so she grabbed her room key from the desk and shoved it in her pocket, before leaving her motel room and walking next door to his room.

He was lying on his bed looking at the files that Teresa Hoese gave them, including pictures of the bruises and scars that Ray Hoese had received during his multiple abductions. Scully knocked, and Mulder looked up at his door.

“Who is it?” he called out.

“It's me,” she answered.

He set the photographs down on the bed and walked to the door, opening it to see Scully standing there still dressed in her white button-down blouse and black suit pants. She stood there shuddering, looking unwell and extremely pale.

Mulder looked at her, concerned. “What's wrong, Scully? You look sick.”

“I don't know what's wrong,” she replied.

“Come in,” he said, reaching out to grab her arm, drawing her into his room.

Scully walked over to the bed, where she sat down and huddled, still shivering. Mulder closed the door and went over by the bed, crouching down and facing her.

“I, um… I was starting to get ready for bed and I started to feel really dizzy, vertigo or something, and then I just… I started to get chills,” she explained.

Mulder immediately stood up, turning down the sheets and blankets on his bed. “You want me to call a doctor?”

Scully moved off the bed as Mulder placed his hand on her back. “No, I just… I just want to get warm.”

She then climbed back onto the bed, pausing as he took off her shoes and dropped them to the floor. She got under the covers and he tucked her in, before getting on the bed to lie down behind her.

“Oh, good,” whispered Scully.

Mulder then embraced her in a warm, spooning cuddle.

“Thank you,” she said.

He held her tight, pressing his mouth against her back and gazing at her. She sensed the pregnant pause and his eyes on her, and remembered how quiet he’d been all through dinner. She wondered if he was going to tell her what was bothering him.

“It's not worth it, Scully,” he said quietly.

Another long pause. She didn’t really know what he was referring to. “What?” she asked.

“I want you to go home.”

“Oh, Mulder, I'm going to be fine,” Scully replied.

He shook his head. She didn’t belong here. “No, no, I've been thinking about it. Looking at you today holding that baby… knowing everything that's been taken away from you…”

She now knew what had been bothering him since they left Teresa Hoese’s, and she felt emotion clutch at her heart, could feel the tears start to threaten. They hadn’t said one word regarding her infertility since he’d come home from England and she’d decided against attempting IVF again.

“A chance for motherhood and your health and that made me…,” Mulder continued. “Think that... maybe they're right.”

“Who's right?” she asked, sniffling.

“The FBI. Maybe what they say is true, though for all the wrong reasons. It's the personal costs that are too high.”

As Scully began to feel tears well up, Mulder whispered softly in her ear. “There is so much more you need to do with your life. There's so much more than this.”

“There are costs to everything, Mulder,” she sniffled, her voice cracking. “And sacrifices.”

He shook his head slightly. They’d sacrificed enough. That Agent Short was right. There was no more conspiracy. He found his sister. Was there any real point in continuing?

“What is left to sacrifice _for?”_ Mulder asked.

Scully didn’t have an answer. They’d both lost so much, had sacrificed and suffered. The only thing they had left to lose was each other.

He gently stroked her face, before whispering, “There has to be an end, Scully.”

Mulder softly kissed her cheek and leaned his head on her shoulder, as he slid his hand up to meet hers. Scully clasped his hand and held it near her mouth, and began to cry. Was she truly ready to walk away from the X-Files? And why would he want to send her home, while he stayed here without her?

“I’m not going home,” she said through her tears. “I’m gonna be fine, Mulder. Why would you want to carry on without me?”

“Scully…,” he sighed. “I know you’re going to feel better, I know you’re going to be fine. But what about six months from now? A year from now? And I’m not going to carry on without you. And end for you is an end for me. I can’t do this without you, you know that.”

Fresh tears welled up in her eyes and brimmed over. “But then what are you going to do if the Director shuts us down, closes the X-Files?”

He slightly shrugged his shoulders. “I’m gonna be with you, that’s what I’m gonna do. Haven’t you been telling me for years to get a life?”

Scully started chuckling, and Mulder kissed her again, grinning against her cheek.

“You getting warm?” he asked.

“Yeah, but someone once told me that the best way to get warm was to get naked with somebody else who’s already naked,” she replied, grinning.

He lifted his head from her back and gave her a look of feigned shock as she turned to face him. “Agent Scully, we are working on a case.”

She snorted. “I have no intentions of having sex, Mulder. I just want to get out of these clothes.”

“Party pooper,” he joked as he moved away and got off the bed.

Scully slid over to sit on the edge of the bed and started to unbutton her blouse, when Mulder stilled her hands and shook his head.

“Let me do that,” he said quietly, as he lowered himself to kneel on the floor beside the bed.

Mulder unfastened the remainder of her buttons, sliding the blouse off Scully’s shoulders and down her arms. He then unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, motioning for her to lift her hips, and then slid them off her legs, taking her nylons with them. His hands then moved slowly behind her back, reaching up to unclasp her pale pink bra, before it too was removed and tossed to the floor.

Scully wished her nudity didn’t reveal every flaw of her body, the extra three pounds she’d gained, and the little places she thought were beginning to sag. She gazed down at Mulder as he looked up at her, his eyes filled with tenderness and emotion. He reached out to touch her, and his hands slowly caressed from her neck, across her shoulders, down over the swell of her breasts, over her belly, to rest on her panty-clad hips, before sliding down to caress her thighs. As Scully looked down at Mulder, at the love and reverence in his eyes, she saw that he would have looked at her and touched her the exact same way if she’d been 50 pounds heavier.

“You feeling any better?” he whispered.

“Yeah, a little,” she replied, nodding.

He then stood up and removed his black t-shirt, jeans, and socks, before crawling underneath the bed covers with Scully. Mulder turned up the volume on the television, handing her the TV remote to find something she’d like to watch, and returned to studying the medical records on Ray Hoese as she snuggled up against him, her shivers gradually subsiding.

*****

Early the next morning, Saturday the 27th of May, Scully awoke in the bed in Mulder’s motel room. He was lying behind her, still asleep, with his arm and leg wrapped around her body, his hand cupping her bare breast, and his face buried in her hair, clinging to her as if he would never let her go again.

But Scully then suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of nausea, and forcefully prying herself from Mulder’s hold on her, she frantically crawled over him and off the bed.

“Scully?” Mulder said groggily, as he watched her walk fast into the bathroom, still blinking himself awake.

She dropped to her knees in front of the toilet and heaved, purging her stomach.

“Scully.” He’d followed her into the bathroom and knelt behind her, tucking her hair behind her ears and placing one hand gently on her back. She continued to heave, and Mulder continued to rub her back. He stared at her, eyes wide. He hadn’t seen Scully sick like this in years, and seeing her draped over the toilet was triggering painful sense memories of her cancer.

She groaned and flushed the toilet, before moving to sit back against the wall, with her knees bent in front of her chest, and closing her eyes.

“You’re going home, Scully.”

“Mulder,” she sighed, opening her eyes to look at him crouching down in front of her, dressed only in the navy blue boxer briefs he’d slept in.

He shook his head. “No, I mean it. I’m taking you to the airport.”

“You’re not staying here without me,” Scully replied firmly. “Besides, I feel a lot better now that I’ve puked. I actually feel hungry. How about you take me to get breakfast instead of the airport?”

He sighed, staring at her, and then grinned. After Scully got dressed and headed back to her motel room to get ready for the day, she met Mulder at their rental car at just past 9:00 am and they drove to the local diner. By 10:00 am, they were standing at the register paying their check, and as they exited the diner a middle-aged man dressed in jeans and a plaid flannel button-down shirt was entering.

“You the FBI people?” he asked them.

“Yeah, that’s us,” Mulder replied, glancing at Scully.

“A bunch of police and an ambulance just pulled up in front of Ray Hoese’s house about 15 minutes ago,” the man said.

Mulder and Scully locked eyes, and after quickly thanking the man, they drove to Teresa Hoese’s house, where they were greeted by Billy Miles. Teresa Hoese was gone, and there was definitely an appearance of a struggle. Mulder discovered a green patch burned into the carpet of the nursery, and after calling Scully’s attention to it, he went to search the rest of the house. Right after she explained to Billy Miles what the patch was, a biological toxin emitted from the bloodstream of an alien, she had another dizzy spell and almost fainted. But the feeling quickly passed, and after joining Mulder outside the house, they soon were speaking to Richie Szalay, a teenage boy who claimed to have been out in the Oregon woods off Rural Highway 133 with his friend Gary Cory, who then disappeared. The boy claimed to have seen Detective Miles out there, and that the detective knew what was going on. Scully raised an eyebrow, but Richie seemed sincere, and quite panicked over his missing friend.

Richie got into the backseat of Mulder and Scully’s rental car and they started to make their way out to Highway 133. During the drive, Richie explained to them that Gary Cory had claimed to have been a multiple abductee when he was younger; that he was taken many times and tested on, sometimes away from home for days.

“Didn’t anyone notice he was missing?” Mulder asked.

“Oh, yeah, all the kids in school would wonder where he was,” Richie replied. “But Gary’s parents didn’t want him talking about it, and would simply tell people that he was staying with relatives out of state whenever he was gone. It’s not like they could go around town saying their kid was taken by aliens. But Gary hadn’t gone missing at all over the past two years, and he’d hoped the abductions were over for good. See, he got real sick about a year and a half ago, and was in the hospital for a while. I think he assumed the aliens didn’t want him anymore.”

Scully glanced over her shoulder at Richie. “But wasn’t Gary worried about being abducted again? Why would he go out into those woods looking for a UFO?”

Mulder turned his head to look over at her, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

Richie sighed. “His parents still refuse to talk about it, and they pretend as though it had never happened. Gary wanted proof that it was all real, that all that stuff had really happened to him.”

Once they reached the forest where Gary had disappeared, Mulder parked the car alongside the road and looked over at Scully as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

“I think you should stay in the car, Scully.”

“Mulder, I’m fine,” she said emphatically, opening her passenger side door. He sighed, and exited the car.

Richie then eagerly led them to the area where he said he and Gary had gone searching for the downed UFO. He explained to them how the beam of his flashlight had hit some strange spot in space out there, which bent the light. Mulder then pressed him for more information.

“Well, I yelled, ‘Gary!’ and I looked… but he wasn't there, you know?” Richie said. “He wasn't anywhere, man. And then the flashlight got really hot and I dropped it. It's right around here somewhere.”

Scully started to walk away, looking down at the ground in search of other forensic clues, as Gary looked for the flashlight. As she stepped into the center of a nearby clearing, she suddenly felt a powerful dizzy spell, like the forest was spinning around her, and then she fell to the ground.

Mulder and Richie found the scorched flashlight, and after picking it up to examine it, Mulder sensed the forest had gone eerily quiet. He looked around and couldn’t see any sign of Scully, could no longer hear the sound of her walking through the leaves and broken twigs. Immediately panic rose up in his gut and his heart started pounding.

“Scully?” he called out.

There was no response. Mulder hurriedly started walking in the direction she had gone off in, and then he started to run, almost tripping over the branches and rocks on the ground. As he approached the clearing, going around some trees, he saw his partner lying on the forest floor.

A wave of relief washed over him, but was immediately replaced by worry. “Scully?”

He ran to her side, again saying her name as he got down on his hands and knees next to her. Her eyes fluttered open, and she was breathing heavily.

Mulder placed his hand on her neck. “You want some water?”

“What happened to her?” asked Richie, who had followed Mulder to the clearing.

“Can you just get her some water?” he replied impatiently.

Scully gasped, and Mulder gently gathered her up in his arms. She was clearly groggy and disoriented. “I just… I just… I just hit the ground,” she panted.

“Here, lie still,” he said, cradling her in his arms as she rested against his leg and staring down at her pale face, just barely able to keep his anxiety in check.

“Why is this happening to me?” Scully asked, her head lolling. She was still having trouble focusing her eyes. She felt sick and exhausted, something she hadn’t felt in years. She had no idea why she should suddenly fall ill now.

Mulder wished he knew. “It's okay. It's okay.” He tried to reassure her, and brushed the hair back from her face.

She was still breathing deeply, trying to fight off her feelings of nausea. “What the hell's going on, Mulder?”

“I don't know,” he answered honestly. “But these aren't just random abductions, Scully. We've got to warn Billy Miles of that.”

She felt a little confused by the change of subject. What did abductions have to do with whatever was going on with her? “Warn him of what?”

What Mulder did know was that the abductions had clearly nothing to do with methodical, ordered testing. “These abductees aren't just systematically being taken,” he told her, believing there was something final, terminal, about what was happening here, and softly brushed the side of her face again. “They're not coming back.”

Scully’s eyes widened slightly as she realized what Mulder was implying, and instantly thought of Teresa Hoese and her cute baby, feeling saddened and worried. Richie then appeared holding the bottled water he’d grabbed from the cup holder in the front seat of the rental car.

“Can you sit up, Scully?” Mulder asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” she whispered.

He slowly raised her into a sitting position, and she took the water bottle from Richie. After swallowing several mouthfuls, Mulder was pleased to see her breathing become more steady and some color return to her face.

“Do you want me to call for help?” Richie asked him. “We can get her checked out by the doctor.”

“I’m fine,” Scully stubbornly answered before Mulder could reply. She then started to move, Mulder holding onto her to help her stand up. “I don’t need a doctor. We have to go talk to Billy Miles.”

Mulder sighed as she brushed herself off. The last thing Scully needed right now was to work. She needed to go lie down somewhere. He momentarily thought about driving her to the hospital, even if it did bring about her wrath. The three of them walked back to the rental car, and after a silent ride to Richie’s house, where they dropped him off, they then started heading over to the home of Billy Miles.

“We’re going home, Scully,” Mulder said as he turned off Richie’s street.

“What do you mean?” she asked, turning her head sharply to look at him.

He sighed. “We’re gonna talk to Billy, help him figure out a way to protect any other known abductees in the area, and then we’re going back to D.C.”

Scully felt her throat constrict, and tears begin to prick her eyes. The idea of leaving Billy Miles to deal with this by himself didn’t sit right with her. She and Mulder were needed here, these people needed their help, their protection. “Maybe we can come back.”

Mulder glanced at her, and saw she looked unhappy. He didn’t want to leave either, but Scully’s well-being was his top priority.

“I’ll go to the doctor, Mulder. And if I’m cleared to go back to work safely, we’ll come back and help Billy with this.”

He shook his head, and sighed, resolutely watching the road. “Once we go back to Washington, Scully, I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be the end of the road for us. There’s no way the Director is gonna let this slide.”

She swallowed, and pushed this painful thought away, as they pulled into Billy’s driveway. His squad car was there as well as his father’s. As they approached the front door, they found it left open. Mulder called out Billy’s name, but there was no response. He and Scully then reached for their weapons, and entered the house cautiously. As they peered into the kitchen and walked into the living room, Scully called out for Billy. Again there was no response, or any sign that anyone else was in the house. Scully looked up at Mulder with a tense, worried expression. He met her eyes, his expression also grim, and shook his head. After searching the entire house, there was no sign of Billy or Detective Miles.

“We got here too late,” Mulder said as they left the house.

Scully looked at him, her eyes widening. “Do you think he was abducted, too?”

He glanced over, noticing the fear etched across her face before she quickly masked it. “Yeah, I do. We need to contact the sheriff’s department and report Billy missing.”

It was after 5:00 pm when they had completed filling out the necessary paperwork and departed the sheriff’s station, and there were no available flights back to D.C. that evening. Mulder and Scully spent the rest of the night camped out in his motel room. They’d ended up ordering a pizza, but neither of them ate very much. Nor did they speak very much, remaining mostly silent for the rest of the evening, both lost in their own thoughts, which weren’t really too far off from each other. Billy Miles had called them to ask for their help, and they had failed him. They’d failed Teresa Hoese and her husband.

*****

On Sunday, May 28th, Scully and Mulder boarded the 9:45 am flight out of Portland and landed in Washington, D.C. at 5:40 pm local time. They spent a quiet evening at her Georgetown apartment, and on Monday, for the third morning in a row, Scully once again awoke to Mulder tightly clinging to her, his arm and leg protectively locking her against his body.

After they had both gotten out of bed, Mulder decided that a national holiday was the perfect time to spend the day at the office as the building would be deserted. So while the rest of America was enjoying family picnics and BBQs, Mulder and Scully decided to spend their Memorial Day in the basement office writing up their report on the events which had occurred in Bellefleur, Oregon. Headquarters was quiet, and only a small handful of agents had been seen as Mulder and Scully entered the building. They then spent a subdued morning sitting at the desk discussing what had happened over the past few days, while Mulder began to type the report on the computer. After a lunch break at the diner which sat two blocks from the Hoover Building, they returned to the basement.

As Mulder unlocked the office door, Scully suddenly felt a wave of nausea. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she said to him as he stepped across the threshold. “Ladies’ room.”

He nodded and she walked away, quickly heading to the bathroom. Scully was just inside the stall when she bent over the toilet bowl and heaved. After purging her stomach of its contents, she slammed the lid and flushed, before sitting down. After a couple minutes of slow, deep breathing, she exited the stall and walked over to the sink. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was red and her eyes were bloodshot. After washing her hands and rinsing her mouth out with water from the tap, she took a few paper towels, soaking them with cold water, and placed the folded towels against her forehead. After a few minutes, she soaked the towels with cold water again and placed them on the back of her neck. The queasy feeling then subsided, and her eyes were no longer looking so red. After taking a deep breath, Scully left the bathroom.

As she approached the doorway to their office, she heard Mulder talking to someone.

“Why me? And why now?”

Scully stepped in front of the doorway, looking into the office, and for a second couldn’t believe her eyes.

“I want to damn the soul of that cigarette-smoking son of a bitch,” said Alex Krycek.

“Mulder?” she spoke questioningly, her eyes wide.

At the sound of her voice, Krycek, Marita Covarrubias, Skinner, and Mulder turned their heads to look in her direction.

“What the hell is going on?” Scully asked.

“You still have a chance to save Billy Miles, Teresa Hoese and her husband,” spoke Marita. “The other abductees. They’re still there, in the Oregon woods. You can save them, but you have little time. Once the ship is repaired, they’ll be gone.”

Scully looked at Mulder, and they locked eyes. The others stood by and watched their silent conversation. She then turned her attention to Marita. “I don’t suppose you have any proof of this?”

Krycek and Marita glanced at each other, and then stared back at her.

“There may be a way of getting our hands on some,” said Mulder, before walking over to the desk and getting on the telephone. He didn’t want to believe Alex Krycek of all people. He’d much rather put a large dent the size of his fist in Krycek’s skull. Mulder hadn’t actually laid eyes on him since Krycek had confronted him about the alien invasion in his apartment two years ago. Sometimes Mulder didn’t know who he hated more, Cancer Man or Krycek. But right now, the pendulum was swinging heavily in Krycek’s direction.

Forty-five minutes later, the Lone Gunmen arrived in Skinner’s office with Chinese take-out and their laptop computers. They grouped around the conference table, and got down to work. As the afternoon progressed, the sky darkened with clouds and a thunderstorm rolled through the area. Scully remained mostly silent as the Gunmen talked with Mulder and Krycek, sitting down at the table with her arms crossed in front of her protectively. Krycek spun a vague tale about the Cigarette Smoking Man wanting to somehow revive the conspiracy, the downed UFO, the Alien Bounty Hunter wiping out all evidence of the abductions and tests. Soon the Gunmen were printing out page after page of information, and they all stood around the conference table discussing satellite data taken from Bellefleur, Oregon.

“What's amazing is that even the military satellites don't see it,” Frohike said.

“But J.P.L.'S Topex Poseidon shows it only as waveform data,” added Langly.

“And here it appears simply as a microburst of transmission error on the European Space Agency's ERS-2,” said Byers.

Skinner looked across the table at Byers with a bemused expression. “In other words?”

Frohike looked up at Skinner. “In other words, you'd never know it's a UFO.”

“If you didn't know what you were looking at or looking for,” concluded Byers.

“No wonder we couldn't see them,” Langly said.

Krycek pressed the palm of his hand against his face and spoke impatiently. “Listen, it is not going to be there forever.”

Marita glanced over at Mulder. “As we all stand here talking it's rebuilding itself.”

Scully had grown increasingly uncomfortable as the afternoon wore on. She didn’t trust Krycek as far as she could throw him, and why should she believe anything Marita Covarrubias has to say? This plan of theirs seemed awfully dangerous, and their real intentions were arguable. Scully decided she couldn’t take any more and walked out of Skinner’s office, and started to pace the hall outside.

Despite the fact that Mulder had been paying rapt attention to what the Gunmen and Krycek were saying, and was completely absorbed in his own thoughts concerning their present circumstances, he immediately abandoned them and followed Scully, closing the door behind him and shutting the rest of them away.

Scully turned at the sound of the door closing, her hands on her hips. “Mulder, if any of this is true…”

Mulder immediately interrupted her. “If it is, or if it isn't, I want you to forget about it, Scully.”

She stared at him, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Forget about it?”

“You're not going back out there,” Mulder said firmly. “I'm not going to let you go back out there.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked in disbelief.

He had made his decision, and he wasn’t going to budge. “It has to end sometime. That time is now.”

She wasn’t convinced. If something was to be done, they would do it together, like always. “Mulder…”

“Go home, please,” he said.

“I am not going home,” Scully said resolutely. “And I can’t just forget about it. I thought you’d know that about me after everything we’ve been through.”

Mulder thought there was no way in hell that she was going back into those woods. “What we’ve _just_ been through is you unexplainably collapsing.”

She averted her eyes. “I was exhausted.”

“I’ve seen you exhausted,” he said. “And I’ve seen you running on empty. I’ve never once seen you go down. Now, Scully, you have to understand that they're taking abductees,” he said emphatically, before concluding more quietly as he put the fear that had been gnawing at him out in Oregon into words. “You're an abductee.”

“I was taken by men,” Scully retorted.

He shook his head. “You don’t know that. And I don’t know that. It’s not worth the risk. I'm not gonna risk…” Mulder paused, finding it hard to voice his fear, looking at her meaningfully. “… losing you.”

His voice nearly broke when speaking those last words, and Scully walked slowly into his embrace. She pressed her face against his, her hand gripping the back of his neck, and Mulder closed his eyes as they clung to each other. Scully knew what had to be done. She could demand that Mulder not go back to Oregon, remind him that he’d promised not to carry on without her. But they would just be failing Billy Miles again, and Teresa Hoese, and the countless others out there whose lives depended on someone like Mulder. How could she ask him to stop, to walk away?

“I won't let you go alone,” she whispered, and Mulder’s eyes opened. He’d expected her to put up a fight, to argue her way into going with him, or demand that he not give an ounce of credence to anything Krycek had just told them.

Once again, Scully inexplicably felt tears spring to her eyes and she didn’t want to let him go. Mulder held on to her tighter, pressing her body against his. They each felt an indescribable sinking feeling, anxiety knotting their stomachs. The sound of the office door handle caused them to reluctantly pull apart, and then Skinner appeared, asking them to come back inside to discuss their options.

Thirty minutes later, Mulder and Scully were back down in the basement, having left the rest of the group around the conference table in Skinner’s office. Mulder had called in a last-minute favor with the US Marshals, and had gotten himself and Skinner on the 5:30 pm nonstop flight to Portland, Oregon. After grabbing his duffel bag from the trunk of his car, he was standing in his office waiting for Skinner’s call to let him know he was ready to go.

Scully sat on the edge of the desk, her arms crossed, chewing her bottom lip. Mulder walked over and sat in the chair facing the desk, his hands moving out over the top of her skirt to caress her thighs.

“I don’t like this,” she said, her voice breaking.

“I know,” he whispered.

She swallowed. “Krycek’s explanation doesn’t even make sense to me. Why would this Alien Bounty Hunter need to destroy evidence of tests that were done all those years ago? Why all of a sudden would it be necessary to remove Billy Miles or Teresa Hoese, when they hadn’t been taken or tested on for the past seven years? It makes no sense, Mulder.”

He nodded. “I know, Scully. There’s something else going on here, some other reason why they’re being taken.”

“What?” she asked, unfolding her arms to rest her hands on top of Mulder’s.

“That’s what I need you to help me figure out while I’m away.”

Scully sighed. The plan was to request all the medical files on Billy, Teresa, Gary Cory, and any other Bellefleur residents who had unexplainably gone missing recently, and have them faxed to Skinner’s office so she could review them.

Tears stung her eyes as Scully once again chewed on her bottom lip, trying to fight them back. “I don’t like you going out there without me. You need me.”

“Scully,” he breathed. “I need you to be safe. I told you it’s the end. This is it.”

“You also told me the end for me would mean the end for you,” she replied, her tone slightly accusatory.

Mulder nodded his head, his hands moving to grip hers as she remained sitting on the desk front of him. “It is the end for me, for the both of us.”

She gave him a puzzled look.

He sighed. “When I get back from Oregon, I’m handing in my letter of resignation.”

Scully’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open in shock. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for days, ever since we first pulled into Billy Miles’ driveway, watching you hold Teresa Hoese’s baby. It’s over, Scully. We’ve both lost so much, there’s nothing really left to sacrifice. And I refuse to sacrifice you or your health, your well-being. We’re done. It’s over.”

Tears welled up in Scully’s eyes, and brimmed over. Was she ready to walk away from the X-Files? From the life she’d had for the past seven years? There was a time when she was desperate to get out, but she’d made her peace with her choices in life, with her path, the destiny she’d found for herself. Was she ready to give that up? But Mulder was right. The only thing left to sacrifice was each other, and the longer they worked, the more danger they put themselves in, the more they risked to lose.

“Mulder…” Scully cried, the tears now falling freely.

“It won’t be so bad,” he said, grinning. “I could move out of my apartment, and come live with you.”

She looked at him, her wet eyes widening in surprise.

But then Mulder felt slightly nervous. “Well, I mean, if you’d have me. We both know I’m a slob. But I think my fish would like it at your place.”

Scully chuckled through her tears, and smiled at him.

"So is that a 'yes'?" he asked, smirking at her.

She sighed, smiling down at him, and nodded her head.

“I want a life,” he stated, his voice low and fervent.

They gazed lovingly at one another as Mulder got up from the chair, tenderly taking Scully’s face in his hands. He looked down at her, his eyes smoldering with green fire as the blue of her eyes sparkled, and then he pressed his lips to hers, soft and slow and undemanding, feeling the tears cascading down her cheeks. At this moment the phone rang. Skinner was back in his office and ready to go.

Scully wiped her tears, and they exited the basement office, locking the door behind them. Once they’d made their way to the fourth floor, Mulder entered Skinner’s office while she waited outside.

“Ready to go?” Mulder asked.

Skinner nodded, before glancing back at the Lone Gunmen and Marita Covarrubias. Mulder noticed that Krycek was gone, and locked eyes with Skinner.

“He said he was going to try and track down some information,” Skinner explained, shrugging.

Mulder sighed, and they turned to walk out to the hallway. Once Skinner walked through the doorway, Mulder paused and turned around to look at the Gunmen. They stood there, watching him.

He swallowed, feeling a lump grow in his throat. “Promise me you’ll look after Scully while I’m gone.”

“Of course, Mulder,” Byers said sincerely.

“Why wouldn’t we?” remarked Frohike.

“I’m pretty sure that’s down in writing somewhere,” Langly added.

He nodded, sighing, and then left the office.

Scully stood outside Skinner’s door, and after Mulder told her he’d call her in the morning, she watched them walk down the hallway to the elevator. The doors opened and they stepped on, both holding black duffel bags. She watched as Skinner pulled out his cell phone, making a call. Scully locked eyes with Mulder, and they gazed at one another, before he silently mouthed ‘I love you’ as the elevator doors closed. And then they were gone.

*****

Mulder and Skinner landed in Portland, Oregon just before 8:30 pm local time, as the sun was beginning to set, arriving at the forest outside Bellefleur an hour later. While setting up the laser motion detector beams in the area where Richie had led him just a few days earlier, Mulder looked up into the clearing and saw that the beams all ended at a spot in space, as if stopping against something invisible. His heart started pounding as he walked towards it. He then cautiously stuck his hand in the space where the laser beams ended.

Back in Skinner’s office at FBI headquarters it was going on 1:00 am, and Scully and the Lone Gunmen were still looking through files and satellite data. She picked up Billy Miles' medical file and saw that he’d been hospitalized a year ago for three weeks. Teresa Hoese, her husband, Gary Cory, and others had all been sent to the hospital with the same condition at some point in the last 18 months.

Scully felt her stomach bottom out. “This just can't be.”

“What are you looking at?” Frohike asked, walking over to stand next to her.

“Medical records,” she replied. “Billy Miles and other known abductees in Bellefleur, Oregon. They all experienced anomalous brain activity.”

Byers looked at Ray Hoese’s file. “Electroencephalitic trauma.”

Her heart was pounding. “Which is exactly what Mulder experienced last year.”

As soon as Mulder put his hand in the strange invisible barrier, a bizarre sensation began to spread through his body. He felt mesmerized, as if he was free of any worries or cares. Forest sounds abated, there was nothing but calm silence. He thought he heard a man calling his name, but it was from somewhere far away. He saw a circle of brilliant white light, with Billy Miles, Teresa Hoese and her husband, and other faces he didn’t recognize standing inside it. He felt compelled to join them, the feeling was overwhelming, and he walked towards the circle of light. But a small voice in the back of his mind frantically protested, pleaded with him to go back, to run away, telling him that someone was waiting for him. He wished he could remember who that was.

Mulder hesitated a moment, then stepped into the circle. The others welcomed him warmly, and he looked up at the bright light coming from the ship hovering above, feeling like this was where he belonged.

Back in Skinner’s office, Langly stared at Scully. “I don’t understand.”

“There was something out there in that field,” she said, remembering what had happened to her in the Oregon woods. “It knocked me back. Because it didn't want me. Mulder thinks that it's me that's in danger of being taken.”

“When it's Mulder who's in danger,” concluded Frohike.

She suddenly felt weak and disoriented, the room was spinning.

“Scully?” Frohike said, concerned.

She fainted, the Lone Gunmen catching her as she fell, and everything went dark.

From the woods of the clearing, the Alien Bounty Hunter stepped confidently into the circle and approached Mulder. At the moment they locked eyes, the frantic voice in the back of Mulder’s mind grew louder and started screaming one word: _‘Scully!’_ But as he looked into the Bounty Hunter’s face, he knew it was too late and that his suspicions had been correct. They weren’t coming back.

*****

After Scully came to, she was still on the floor in Skinner’s office, the Lone Gunmen huddled around her.

“Scully, are you all right?”

“What should we do?”

“Call an ambulance.”

She started to sit up. “I’m fine!” she insisted. “Mulder’s the one who needs your help.”

“There’s not much we can do for him here, other than look after you,” Langly said.

Scully shot him a cold look.

Byers cleared his throat. “What do you want us to do, Agent Scully?”

“Help me get up, for one,” she replied in a weak voice. “I need to get to the airport.”

“No way, young lady,” Frohike scolded, helping her up off the floor. “You’re going to the hospital. We don’t want Mulder coming back here and kicking our asses.”

She started to protest, but then immediately turned around, running for the trash can as nausea overwhelmed her, and heaved over it, purging her stomach.

The Gunmen stared at each other in concern.

“Okay, you two try to get ahold of Mulder or Skinner and warn them,” Byers said. “I’ll drive Scully to the hospital.”

Byers walked over to Scully, still bent over the trash can, and placed a calming hand on her back. As she stood upright and looked at him, tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

“I know,” Byers replied quietly.

Scully then felt dizzy again, and leaned against him. Byers led her out of Skinner’s office and out of the building, getting into the driver’s seat of Scully’s car, and drove her to Georgetown Memorial Hospital. Once she was in the emergency room, undressed into a hospital gown and sitting up in a bed, she waited to see the doctor. Byers was sitting in the chair against the wall. Scully had told him he could leave, and he mumbled something about making Mulder a promise a long time ago. She kept hoping her cell phone would ring, that Mulder would call her back. She’d called him when she first arrived at the emergency room, but the call went straight to his voicemail.

After urine and blood samples were taken, all Scully could do was wait. She didn’t want to sleep, she wanted to stay awake in case Mulder called her, but it was after 2:00 am and her exhaustion was pulling her under.

Four hours later, Scully slowly awoke to the familiar hospital sounds. Consciousness quickly came back to her and she remembered why she was there, remembered the events of the past few days. She grabbed at her cell phone on the bedside table, but there were no messages from Mulder. Not even a missed call. It was 9:00 am in Oregon. He would’ve called her by now. There was one painful explanation why he hadn’t, but she refused to think about that, holding out hope that everything was all right.

As she sat up in bed, she looked over at the chair Byers had once occupied to see Frohike sitting there, bent over with his elbows on his knees. She opened her mouth to say something, but then a doctor walked into the room carrying a clipboard. He was African-American and young, in his early to mid 30’s, wearing a white lab coat over blue scrubs and a stethoscope around his neck.

“Good, you’re awake,” he greeted her with a warm smile. “Hello, Dr. Scully. I’m Dr. Hughes. Uh, your preliminary tests show a number of things. You were suffering from exhaustion and mild anemia, some dehydration. A quantitative blood test also measured the exact amount of hCG in your blood, and so I’d say you’re about seven or eight weeks pregnant.”

“That’s not possible,” Frohike blurted out.

Dr. Hughes turned to look at him with a mildly amused expression, before turning back to Scully. She was staring at Frohike, and although she agreed with him, knowing this was impossible, something was also telling her this might be probable.

“He’s right,” Scully told the doctor. “I can’t…”

“Yes, I know,” Dr. Hughes replied, nodding. “We’ve got your medical records here, and I see you were diagnosed with premature ovarian failure three years ago after going through some fairly rigorous and experimental cancer treatments. Even though your cancer went into remission, the treatments could’ve caused your reproductive system to fail. We are currently running more tests, just to make sure everything checks out fine. We’re looking for a number of things that could give off a false positive for pregnancy. However, you’re not displaying any of the other symptoms for those conditions. So, if I was a betting man, I’d say that you’re not experiencing anything other than a typical first trimester.”

She was in shock. But how? Did the last IVF attempt somehow work? She doubted it. Did she conceive naturally? Her ovaries didn’t produce eggs anymore. But what if they somehow started to again? But how? POF doesn’t just heal itself. Mulder’s prayers for a miracle? Scully glanced over at Frohike, a smile starting to spread across her face, and he raised his eyebrows at her in a look of pleasant surprise.

“I’m going to start you on neonatal vitamins, and along with some food, should clear up your anemia in no time,” Dr. Hughes continued. “I’m gonna keep you here overnight for bed rest, and unless we get some unexpected test results back later today, you’ll be able to go home tomorrow morning. I’ll be back this afternoon to discuss those test results with you.”

Scully nodded absent-mindedly, a faraway expression on her face. She hoped Mulder would call her soon.

Dr. Hughes cleared his throat after turning back to look at her. “You know, the human body is an amazing thing. You’re not even close to being the first woman who was told it was impossible for her to have children of her own, only for that to be proven wrong. A woman’s ability to bring life into this world, even against the greatest of odds, is a real miracle.”

She returned the doctor’s smile, and then he left the room. Tears welled up in her eyes and brimmed over. Frohike rushed to her side.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked. “Do you need anything? Do you still feel sick?”

“I’m fine,” she said, smiling through her tears. She felt so unbelievably happy, and more than ever wanted to see Mulder, to tell him the news, to see the look on his face.

Frohike actually believed her this time.

Scully then cleared her throat and wiped her tears away. “Have you heard from Mulder? Were you able to contact him?”

He shook his head. “We tried calling both him and Skinner last night, but were only able to leave messages. Byers is with Langly back at Skinner’s office, and I’m hoping they’ve been able to talk to them.”

She sighed, nodding. “When did you get here?”

“Oh, a couple hours ago,” Frohike replied, shrugging. “We couldn’t leave you unattended. We’re under strict orders to look after you. Langly is supposed to relieve me soon.”

Scully snorted. “Thanks.”

About 15 minutes later, Langly and Byers entered the hospital room.

“You guys find out anything?” Frohike asked after they closed the door.

“Uh, yeah,” Byers replied, glancing over at Scully as she immediately smiled at him. “Starting at 1:00 am Eastern Standard Time and continuing for the next two hours, there were multiple UFO sightings all over the Pacific Northwest and northern California. Starting at 4:00 am our time, MUFON chapters in those same areas started lighting up the message boards reporting missing members.”

Scully stared at Byers, her stomach tightening into knots of fear and anxiety, and she spoke with urgency. “Did Mulder find the UFO?”

Langly and Byers glanced at each other, their expressions turning somber. Langly nodded silently, and Byers looked at him again.

“Um…,” Byers began, pausing briefly. “We also intercepted communication transmissions between the Bellefleur sheriff’s department and the FBI field office in Portland. Then a transmission to FBI headquarters here in D.C., and then one final transmission in response.”

“The transmissions were requesting a search team,” Langly said quietly.

Scully looked at him with wide eyes. “Mulder and Skinner called out a search team? Did they find the abductees?”

Byers shook his head, and swallowed, glancing nervously at Langly. “The search team was requested for a missing FBI agent. And… it was Skinner… who made the request.”

“They’ve been searching the forest for the past five hours, but so far…” Langly trailed off, looking down at his shoes.

She closed her eyes and didn’t respond, her trembling hand reflexively moving to the hollow of her throat to touch her cross, but she then remembered she’d removed it along with her clothing. Scully fought to keep her emotions in check, to listen to everything the Gunmen had to say.

“From what we’ve gathered from Skinner’s transmission to headquarters,” Byers continued. “He was with Mulder, and then he turned around to find he was gone. There was suddenly a blindingly bright light where Mulder had last been seen, then a bright flash, and a large craft was then seen in the sky before it disappeared. The FBI’s only response to this was that Skinner immediately return to Washington.”

Frohike closed his eyes and shook his head. “What about Krycek and the blonde?”

A look of disgust crossed Langly’s face. “Marita got a phone call from him, and he told her everything we’d just learned from the transmissions. Apparently, he’d also gone out to Oregon and claimed to see the whole thing happen. Marita then left Skinner’s office. We don’t know where she went.”

“We’ll find him, Agent Scully,” Byers said reassuringly. “MUFON chapters around the country are on alert. Finding Mulder is our number one priority.”

She nodded. She felt numb. This certainly wasn’t the first time Mulder had vanished, gone missing. Nor was it the first time anyone had thought he was dead. She kept expecting him to just walk through the door. She was fighting the tears, quelling her emotions, believing that speaking it aloud would make it all too real.

The Gunmen glanced at each other, and then uneasily at Scully. They all thought she’d probably like to be alone, and so they quietly walked out of the room.

*****

Scully hadn’t wanted to sleep, didn’t think she even could, and fought it as long as possible, but her body’s exhaustion eventually pulled her under again, and she woke up at just past 3:00 pm on Tuesday, May 30th. An hour later, Skinner entered her hospital room.

“Agent Scully.”

She looked at him, coming out of her reverie. “Hi.”

“Hi. How you feeling?” Skinner asked.

“I'm feeling fine,” Scully replied. “They're just running some tests on me.”

He sighed. “Well… um…” He face twisted in pain, unable to say the words.

Tears welled up in Scully’s eyes, and her voice broke. “I already heard.”

“I lost him,” said Skinner, his voice breaking. “I don't know what else I can say. I lost him. I'll be asked… what I saw. And what I saw, I can't deny. I won't.”

“We will find him,” Scully cried, remembering how happy she’d been to hear her news, how much she’d wanted to make Mulder happy as well. “I have to.”

Skinner nodded in understanding, and started to walk out of the room.

Scully needed to tell him. “Sir, um… there's something else I need to tell you. Something that I need for you to keep to yourself.”

He looked at her questioningly.

“I'm having a hard time explaining it,” she said, feeling like she could either laugh with pure disbelief or cry over her heartache. “Or believing it. But, um…” Scully paused, a small smile breaking out on her face, joy mixed with heartbreak. “I’m pregnant.”

Skinner stared at her, speechless. She tried to smile, and through her tears, she let out a mixture of a laugh and a weak sob. She’d gotten her wish, her deepest heart’s desire, only to endure a sick twist of fate. Nothing could ever be simple for them. Skinner didn’t know what to say, he could only nod. After telling her he’d check up on her later, he promptly left the hospital room.

As the afternoon turned to evening, and the hospital darkened with the onset of night, she could no longer maintain her Agent Scully exterior, her professional ‘Dr. Scully.’ The more time passed without Mulder walking through the door, without hearing his voice on the phone, the more reality began to sink in. She laid down in her hospital bed, in her darkened room, and a guilty and grief-stricken Dana began to weep.

At the sound of sobs coming from Scully’s hospital room, Frohike left the chair outside the door and hurriedly walked inside. He grabbed the chair against the wall and pulled it behind him to sit beside her bed as she continued to sob. Frohike reached his hand out and stroked her forehead, brushing her hair back.

“We’re going to find him.” Frohike hoped he sounded confident, and that he could give her some courage despite the questions and doubts in his own mind.

Scully let out a shuddering sob, trying to catch her breath. “It’s my fault. I should’ve been out there with him.”

“Hey, now,” Frohike said, his hand wiping the tears from her cheek. “Don’t talk like that. You obviously were in no condition to go out there.”

She sobbed anew with fresh tears, thinking of the child that Mulder might never know about. It was so unfair. How could God be so cruel? Mulder had been on the verge of a real life, on the verge of finally having a family, and he might never know. What was the point in getting a miracle, only to have her soul ripped from her? She wanted to die.

Frohike furrowed his brows. He didn’t like seeing Scully in such despair. It scared him. “Don’t give up hope. Didn’t you come back to us? Huh? We found you, didn’t we? We’ll find him.”

She sniffled, and nodded her head. She knew Mulder had believed the abductions were final, that they were not going to be returned. She could only hope and pray this was one of the rare times that Mulder was wrong.

Frohike pushed the chair back quietly against the wall, but remained there and eventually dozed off. Scully’s tears had quieted and she merely lay there on the bed, quiet but awake. Her hand moved down to caress her belly, and she smiled. But she wasn’t content, far from it. She was alone. Half of her was missing. But now there was another life growing inside her, a life that also belonged to Mulder. She wondered if the baby would look just like him. A tiny smidgeon of hope began to blossom in her heart at this thought, hope for a future. She had to find him. As Scully’s eyes grew heavy, and sleep began to pull her under, she uttered a silent promise _._

*****

Total darkness engulfed Mulder, and the excruciating pain began to subside. He'd felt like dying from the pain. He couldn’t hear or see anything. He couldn’t move. Cold metal restrained his wrists and ankles. He couldn’t sleep. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know what was going to happen to him. He’d never felt so lost, or afraid. Would there be an end to this? Was there a light at the end of the tunnel? He tried to remember how he got there. But his memories were fuzzy. He had been with Skinner. But he couldn’t remember why. He couldn’t think of any reason why he would’ve been somewhere alone with Skinner, and not with Scully.

As her name was spoken in his mind, Mulder suddenly heard whispering. He strained to listen, but the sound was gone. Memories came forward: running his hand through silky, red hair, strong arms and legs wrapping around him, soft lips pressing against his. _Scully. Scully. Scully._

The whispering was back, but as Mulder quieted his thoughts to try to discern what was being said, it was gone. He couldn’t tell whether the whispering was coming from somewhere around him, or if it was only inside his head.

_Scully, help me._

The voice whispered again, familiar and clear. _I will find you, Mulder._


	76. "I can't take the chance that I'm never going to see him again."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully arrives back at work to begin her search for Mulder, only to find that the FBI's new Deputy Director has his own ideas of how to operate the search, including his appointment of a task force leader to run the operation. TPTB at the FBI work hard to plant doubt in Scully's mind, and the hunt for Mulder leads the search team to Arizona.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of the episodes "Within/Without" do not belong to me, I didn't write it. They were written by Chris Carter, and they belong to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> Sidenote #1: Welcome aboard, Doggett. The blue of your eyes pierces my very soul.
> 
> Sidenote #2: Shout-out to Jessica Morgan (@fuggirls) for the brilliant X-Files recaps she wrote for Television Without Pity. When Season 8 started, her weekly recaps were my lifeline. To see my own anger and frustration in print, and to be able to laugh at what was happening to my favorite show, helped me to stick with the show to the very end and still love it even after the way it ended. I'll always remember her rants at 1013, action figures adventures, and The Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name. I will forever ship Doggett/Skinner and it's canon in my mind because of Jessica Morgan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aqualung – “Glimmer”
> 
> I know that I was lost  
> And I know that it was too, too hard  
> And although it isn't much  
> I give you all I have 
> 
> There's a mirror in the old place  
> A place where we would stand  
> And wonder at our sweet, sweet selves  
> Smiling, hand in hand  
> This wasn't what we planned
> 
> Though the night has fallen  
> I close my eyes and imagine  
> A tiny glimmer  
> Flickering on the horizon
> 
> It takes time to get it right  
> Takes no time to get it wrong  
> I can't believe I didn't see  
> The ground was caving in  
> Oh, can we just start again?
> 
> Though the night has fallen  
> I close my eyes and imagine  
> A tiny glimmer  
> Flickering on the horizon
> 
> Everyday, everyday  
> Living my life like it's over  
> Like it's over and deep underground  
> Little look, little smile  
> Flick the switch and it's over  
> Like it's lost and can never be found  
> But maybe there's a tiny glow  
> That won't die and won't leave us alone  
> Star shining, the sun is rising
> 
> There's a tiny glimmer  
> Flickering on the horizon  
> Can you see it? Can you see it there?  
> Can you see it? Can you see it? There’s  
> A tiny glimmer flickering on the horizon

At 5:00 on Tuesday afternoon, May 30th, a memo was issued to every field office and department within the Federal Bureau of Investigation announcing that Assistant Director Alvin Kersh had been appointed as the new Deputy Director of the FBI. At 7:30 am on Wednesday, Special Agent John Jay Doggett was called into Kersh’s office.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Doggett asked, after Kersh’s tall, blonde, and beautiful secretary let him into the office with a wink.

Kersh looked up from where he was standing over his desk, packing a box for the move to the Deputy Director's office. He stared at Agent Doggett for a brief second. Doggett was 40 years old, had served in the Marine Corps, had worked as a detective for the NYPD, and had been working as a criminal investigator for the Violent Crimes Unit under Kersh ever since he graduated from the FBI Academy. He was a damn good agent. Most importantly, there was no way he’d ever give any credence to Fox Mulder’s beliefs.

“Thanks for coming, John. Take a seat.”

Doggett sat down facing the desk as Kersh took his leather office chair.

Kersh cleared his throat. “What do you know about Agent Fox Mulder?”

“I know he’s missing,” Doggett replied matter-of-factly.

“Yes, he is,” Kersh said. “What else do you know about him?”

Doggett wasn’t sure where this conversation was heading. “Um… I guess I know what everyone else knows, sir. He’s been with the FBI for quite a while.”

Kersh nodded. “So you’re familiar with Mulder’s reputation?”

“Uh… I think he has several, sir. Depends who you talk to. He’s, uh, unpredictable, a loose cannon, does his own thing, regardless of policy or procedure. He’s… he’s got some crazy ideas about aliens. On the other hand, a lot of my instructors at the Academy constantly raved about him and his partner, discussed the cases he’d solved, the criminals he’d put behind bars. They’d always say Mulder has one of the most brilliant minds in the Bureau. And I think the, uh, women around here have some… specific opinions about him.” Doggett barely suppressed a smirk.

He glanced at the door to his outer office, where Stacey Palmer was situated, and Kersh inwardly groaned. “Okay, well, I need a task force put together to search for Mulder ASAP. I’m installing you as the Agent-in-Charge.”

“Me, sir?” Doggett asked, surprised. “I would think Special Agent Scully is more qualified. I’m sure if there’s anyone who knows how to find Agent Mulder, it’s her.”

“The way you handled the Clayton kidnapping last month and found that young woman, alive. Your star is on the rise, John. Agent Scully can’t really be expected to handle this case objectively.”

He stared at the Deputy Director, still feeling surprised by this. Doggett hadn’t even been out of the Academy five years, and searching for someone like Fox Mulder seemed like it would present unexpected challenges. Surely there must be better, more qualified agents at the Bureau for this assignment.

Kersh gave him an appraising look. “You’re the man for the job. Agent Mulder’s been missing for over 30 hours. So I suggest you get started right away. He’s got quite the head start on you.”

“Yes, sir.” Doggett knew when he was being dismissed. He promptly left Kersh’s office and walked down the hallway of the fifth floor, rounding a corner, where he commandeered one of the crisis action rooms and got on the phone to put his team together. All the while, Kersh’s last words ran in circles in his head. Doggett knew that he had made quite the name for himself with the NYPD for tracking down wanted criminals. What did he mean by Mulder having a ‘head start?’ Was Kersh implying that Mulder was AWOL, that he’d intentionally just ran off, abandoning his work and his partner? Was Mulder a fugitive?

*****

Sleep was proving to be a vain effort for Scully. Now sleep came with dreams, horrible and disturbing dreams. The amniotic fluid, swirling with life inside it, proved not to be of her pregnancy, but an image of Mulder so alarming that she’d shot up in her hospital bed, sweaty and gasping, her heart pounding. As ominous and frightening as these dreams were, being awake proved not much better. Wakefulness came with the continuous reminders that Mulder was gone.

At 7:00 am on Wednesday, May 31st, she was discharged from the hospital, and as she was slipping on the heels she’d been wearing the night she’d came in, Scully was surprised to look up and see Byers opening the door to her room. He also felt a sense of surprise, as if he’d been half-expecting to see Mulder in the room with her, despite the fact that if he actually had been in there with Scully, Byers wouldn’t have needed to be here in the first place. All the same, Mulder’s absence felt palpable to Byers.

“You ready to go?” Byers asked from the doorway.

Scully blinked. “Yeah, I’ve just been discharged. But what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean? I’m taking you home.”

“Byers, my car is here,” she replied. “I can drive myself.”

He shook his head. “We’re supposed to take care of you,” Byers said quietly. “We promised.”

She sighed. Scully wanted to be alone. But seeing the genuine kindness and concern on Byers’ face prevented her from protesting. “Okay.”

They left the hospital shortly afterwards and Byers drove Scully the short distance from Georgetown Memorial Hospital to her apartment, parking her car on the curb out front. She was again surprised to see the Gunmen’s van parked outside her apartment building as well. After getting out of the passenger seat and retrieving her car keys from Byers, Scully walked to meet Langly and Frohike, who had gotten out of the van.

“How are you feeling?” Frohike asked.

Scully noticed that Langly averted his eyes and stared at his shoes. “I’m fine. So what are we doing about Mulder?”

The Gunmen looked at each other.

“Well… we’re set up to capture all calls to his home and office phones,” Byers replied. “And with your permission… we can install surveillance equipment at Mulder’s apartment.”

“To see if anyone shows up,” Langly concluded.

She couldn’t think of anyone who would show up at Mulder’s place, or why. "I doubt that's necessary."

Frohike cleared his throat. “We’re also tracking that UFO, at least we’re trying to. Every MUFON chapter in the country is on it.”

“Thank you,” Scully replied, before sighing. “Well, I have to go get ready for work.”

The Gunmen looked at her in surprise, and then looked uneasily at each other.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” asked Byers.

“Shouldn’t you take a couple days?” Langly added.

“We don’t want you to overdo it,” said Frohike.

Scully gave them a hard look, perhaps without really meaning to. She knew they meant well, and were concerned for her, had good reasons to be. But right now Mulder was her top priority. “I’ve already lost too much time. I can’t afford to lose any more. I have to find him.”

The Lone Gunmen watched as Scully turned and walked into her apartment building. They then got into their 1975 Volkswagen van and started heading for home.

“Do you think we should give Scully the black box?” Byers asked tentatively from the passenger seat.

Langly turned his head sharply at Byers, taking his eyes off the road. “You don’t think we’re gonna find Mulder?”

Byers sighed. “I… want to believe that we will. But…”

“Giving Scully the box would mean we’ve given up,” Langly said angrily.

“But we’re supposed to be looking after her,” he replied. “She could make good use of it. Especially now…”

Frohike leaned forward from his perch in the back seat. “Byers, you know the box comes with very specific instructions. As long as Mulder is still alive and will be coming back, which I’m choosing to believe he is, and as long as Scully isn’t in any danger, the box stays where it is.”

Byers nodded, and the rest of their drive back to The Lone Gunman office was silent.

*****

Scully stood at her bathroom sink, her hair wet and slicked back. She barely had enough energy to shower and dress. She wanted to lie down, close her eyes, and pretend none of this was happening. But to close her eyes would only lead to sleep, which would bring about more nightmares. Not that this was much different. She was living her worst nightmare.

She grabbed a towel and wiped the steam from the mirror, staring at her reflection. She was alone. The apartment was quiet, devoid of Mulder sounds as he wandered between her bedroom and the kitchen. And as much as this habit annoyed her, what she wouldn’t give for him to walk into the bathroom and empty his bladder while she stood at the sink.

How was she going to get through today? How was she going to walk into FBI headquarters? How was she going to walk into that basement office, knowing Mulder would not be there to greet her? She had to believe she would find him, and that she’d find him alive. But fear and doubt had begun to gnaw at her. What about her simple faith? It had gotten her this far, but she sensed it was slipping through her fingers. Scully stared at her reflection, wondering if her personal faith had become grounded in Mulder himself, and his own unwavering beliefs. He was her touchstone. And now she was riddled with guilt and private torture, discouragement and doubt, debilitating fear.

Scully gripped the edges of the sink and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. She then opened the cabinet behind her mirror and took out the bottle of neonatal vitamins, once again coming to the full realization that she needed Mulder now more than ever. There was a life growing inside her, and how this had come to be she still had no clear idea. But this life was part of her, and it was a part of Mulder. If only she hadn’t been so stubborn, if only she’d gone to the doctor sooner. What if they had learned this truth? Scully knew that she could never have demanded that he not go back to Oregon. But she wouldn’t have even had to. Mulder would have walked away. He would’ve made that choice on his own. Because of this newfound miracle. A glimmer of happiness to pull them out of the darkness. A new quest and a new hope for the future. His child. Her child. Their child. Mulder wouldn’t have gone back to Oregon. He would have stayed.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, pushing her emotions back, burying them deep, until walls of steel erected themselves around her, protecting herself and Mulder and their child from what awaited her at the FBI, and then began to button up her black blouse.

What had awaited Scully at the FBI proved to be nothing less than anger-provoking. She rounded the hallway, making her way to the elevator. People passed by her, but they were faceless and their voices said nothing, obscure words that echoed as if they sounded in a deep chasm. Upon approaching the basement office door, she saw four male agents in the office going through Mulder’s desk and file cabinets.

“What is this?!” Scully exclaimed as she entered the office, feeling violated. None of them responded. “Excuse me. Can somebody please tell me what's going on here?”

“We're collecting material,” Agent Lamar Carter replied, barely taking his attention away from the filing cabinet.

Scully recognized him as belonging to the VCU. “For?”

He finally turned to look at her. “For anything that might be pertinent to the manhunt.”

“What manhunt? Manhunt for who?” Scully still had no idea what was going on.

“You're kidding, right?” Agent Carter said, throwing her a sarcastic look.

She stared at him. “Look, there's nothing. If you're looking for Mulder, you're wasting your time.”

Agent Carter didn’t respond and walked away from the cabinet, carrying a box of X-files.

“Are you listening to me?” Scully asked incredulously.

“I'm not the man to talk to,” Agent Carter said over his shoulder as he walked towards the office doorway.

“Well, then whose stupid idea is this?” Scully shouted after him. No one replied.

She immediately left the basement office and headed to the fourth floor. Meeting with Skinner didn’t prove to be very reassuring, as she listened with horrified ears at the news of Kersh taking the Deputy Director’s chair. Kersh hated Mulder, and everyone knew it. But Scully was feeding off her anger and indignation, relying on it to get her through what needed to be done, relying on it to maintain her professional exterior.

Upon being summoned to Kersh’s office, Scully and Skinner made their way there to find Kersh refer to Mulder as ‘one of our own’ and wanting to find him ‘safe and alive.’ Scully felt somewhat skeptical of this. To her chagrin, neither she nor Skinner were going to be heading the search for Mulder.

“With due respect, there aren't two people better qualified to be directing this action, sir,” Scully said.

“Right now, you and AD Skinner are the two primary witnesses to Mulder's disappearance,” Kersh replied. “I want your statement taken ASAP.”

She didn’t like the way that sounded. “You make us out to be suspects, sir.”

Kersh stared at her.

“Taken by who?” asked Skinner.

“My task force leader on this, Special Agent John Doggett,” said Kersh. “He's waiting to hear from you _now_.”

As they started to leave, Kersh stared after them. “One more thing.”

Scully and Skinner turned around to face him as he took off his glasses and looked up at them.

“Anything leaves this building about aliens or alien abductions or any other nonsense that might cast the Bureau in a ridiculous light and you can forget about looking for Agent Mulder. You'll both be looking for new jobs.” Kersh put his glasses back on and returned to the files on his desk. “That’s all.”

She couldn’t believe this was happening. Kersh didn’t want to find Mulder. She doubted anyone in the building really did. They were probably overjoyed that he was no longer their problem anymore. Skinner was right. The FBI just wanted to cover its ass, especially since Mulder was a known figure and his work had its supporters from various organizations. Skinner didn’t want to sell him out, deny the truth, but Scully was afraid. If he went into that room and told them what he really believed happened to Mulder, no good would come of it. No one in there would take Skinner seriously, and then Kersh would ruin him.

Skinner and Scully entered the crisis action team room, to find it alive and buzzing with male and female agents, all working to find Mulder. Some were reading boxes of X-files. Some were on the phone. The no-nonsense, all-business Agent Gene Crane of the VCU approached them.

“Assistant Director, you can come on back with me,” Agent Crane said. “Agent Scully, I'll ask you to please wait on the wall until we call you.”

He then led a reluctant Skinner to a desk in the middle of the room, as Scully sat wearily in one of the red chairs lining the wall. Sitting two seats over, Doggett watched Scully as she sat down, and then got up to walk over to the water cooler. Scully glanced at him, but remained focused on Skinner. She hoped he was going to take her advice and keep quiet about what really happened to Mulder.

A moment later, Doggett handed her a paper cup. “Water?”

Scully looked up at him in surprise.

“It could be a wait,” Doggett said.

“Thank you,” she replied, accepting the cup of water and taking a sip as Doggett sat down again, and began reading a file containing the police reports from Oregon.

Doggett had spent quite a few minutes debating with some of his agents about the exact nature of the relationship between Agent Mulder and Agent Scully. Some believed the two were lovers, others had doubts. Doggett didn’t like doubts, or gray areas. He wanted things in black and white. Either Mulder and Scully were fucking, or they weren’t, and he was determined to find out. “Weren't you his partner? Mulder?”

“Yes,” Scully replied, somewhat surprised, not expecting this question.

“I guess nobody's beyond suspicion on this thing,” said Doggett.

She didn’t recognize him at all, and wondered how he could be involved in this. “Why are they talking to you?”

“Me?” replied Doggett casually. “I knew Mulder back a bit. They're developing a working profile, character background.”

Scully fought an eyeroll. She was sure there wasn’t anything about Mulder the FBI didn’t already know about. “I'd say they have all the character profile they need on him.”

Doggett didn’t take his attention away from the file. “Certainly his reputation. I doubt we agents ever really truly know each other, even our partners. Not at the end of the day. Their real lives, their friends, girlfriends, deeply personal things, issues.”

She didn’t know how exactly to respond. Scully certainly wasn’t going to provide personal details about Mulder, or give anyone the idea that their relationship was anything other than professional. They’d only use it against her at this point. “I think I know Mulder as much as anybody.”

“Yeah, probably so,” he replied, careful to keep his attention on the file to show casual disinterest in the conversation. “I always took the rumors with a grain of salt.”

Scully looked over at him, a knot tightening in the pit of her stomach. “What rumors are those?”

He shrugged slightly. “Well, you know.”

She stared at him as he looked over at her, raising her brows. She knew there were rumors about her and Mulder, but there was something behind what Doggett seemed to be implying that didn’t sit right with her.

“Well, that, from the beginning he never felt a real trust with you, that you were ambitious,” Doggett said.

“Where'd that come from?” Scully replied, shaking her head in disbelief. Mulder had occasionally joked about her ‘career ambition’ and ending up ‘down the ladder’ to the basement. If she really were ambitious, working in the basement with Spooky Mulder was the last place she’d be.

Doggett let out a small laugh, and then went for it. “There are women here at the Bureau that he would confide in. I don't know if you knew that or not.”

Scully stared at him, the knots in her stomach tightening even more. She tried to fight it, but that small voice was back, telling her it might be true. She felt doubt and insecurity creep in. “No. When was this?”

“I don't know, it's just talk,” he replied, looking over at her reaction.

She stared straight ahead and random images, memories, flooded her mind...

Mulder’s breath, hot and moist, was on her belly. He licked a resolute path down from her navel, and her back arched. She was gasping as he settled between her legs and his tongue darted out to taste her wetness, and he groaned her name against her sensitive flesh. He parted her slick folds with the tip of his tongue, eliciting a sharp intake of breath, and she spread her legs wider. He was gentle at first, and teasing, pausing to look at up at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Then he was bold with the flat of his tongue; determined as lips, tongue, and teeth expertly worked her tight, hardened bud until she came with a powerful mix of pleasure and euphoria.

...“So, what do you think happened?” Doggett asked, still reading the file. He’d read Skinner’s report to the sheriff’s department in Bellefleur, Oregon and his communication to the FBI the night Agent Mulder disappeared, his descriptions of bright lights and a craft in the sky. “To Mulder?”

Scully looked over, the memory fading. Fuck him. Fuck him for suggesting Mulder had carried on at the FBI and talked shit about her behind her back with these women. Fuck him. This Agent… whoever he is. Anyone who truly knew Mulder would know what this man just said was complete bullshit. And damn her for doubting Mulder, even for a second. She could imagine him sighing in frustration at her foolish insecurity, shaking his head at her.

“What's your theory?” asked Doggett.

“What's my theory?” Scully replied, staring daggers at him. “My theory is you don't know Mulder at all. You never did.” She reached out and flipped his I.D. tag over. “‘John Doggett.’ Kersh's task force leader. You might have just introduced yourself.”

He smirked at her. “Well, I was getting around to it.”

She stood up and threw her water in Doggett's face, imagining a look of shocked amusement on Mulder's over her blatant display of immaturity, before speaking bitterly. “Nice to meet you, Agent Doggett.”

Scully tossed the cup aside and left the room, slamming the door behind her. Doggett stared after her, stone-faced and wet. Other agents in the room who had been watching this scene with interest, lowered their eyes and got back to work as Doggett turned his head from the door to face the room. He knew the truth now. The water in the face proved it. Agents Mulder and Scully were lovers.

*****

On Wednesday evening, Scully sat at her computer, running a check on Agent Doggett’s FBI profile, as rain pounded the window outside. Nothing she saw raised any red flags. He was born in April 1960, in Atlanta, Georgia, had served in the military and with the NYPD, before joining the FBI in 1995. With a small sense of relief, Scully found she’d been right earlier. Doggett never knew Mulder. She had looked for some sign that his intentions were far from honorable, that he’d somehow been involved with nefarious organizations that worked to quell the truth Mulder had fought his damnedest to uncover. But no such signs seemed to exist, at least in the FBI’s records. Doggett wasn’t involved in any conspiracies or the dark underbelly of the government. He was just an asshole, and one of the FBI’s ‘good ole boys.’

A sudden wave of nausea overtook her as she set her reading glasses down on the desk, and Scully ran for the bathroom, dropping to her knees in front of the toilet and heaving. While her pregnancy was something that she couldn’t forget, Scully found that she was able to push it to the back of her mind and not think about it for prolonged periods of time. Mulder dominated her thoughts. But the vomiting served as a startling reminder of her condition, and she found her hardened exterior begin to crumble. She needed to unburden herself.

Scully walked back out to her living room, picking up her cordless phone, and called her mother. But she only got the answering machine. “Mom, it's Dana. I, uh… I'm sorry I haven't called you in a while. I've been busy with work and, um, with something… else that I should probably tell you about in person. I mean, I don't even know if you're in town or if you're checking your messages. But, um…,” Her voice cracked, her throat constricting, and tears welled up. “But I really need to see you and talk to you. There's a lot of stuff that's going on with me right now and, um… and I just really need to talk.”

There was a click on the line, but it wasn’t her mother picking up. Scully hung up the phone and then noticed a tall, dark-haired man dressed all in black standing on the sidewalk outside her building. Because of the rain, she couldn’t get a clear picture of what he looked like. But she immediately knew where that strange clicking had come from.

She grabbed the phone, and angrily dialed the number for the task force team room that was acting as headquarters in the search for Mulder.

Just 2.8 miles away, Agent Doggett picked up the ringing office phone. “John Doggett.”

“You stay out of my business!” Scully shouted.

“What? Who is this?” Doggett asked, not expecting a phone call like this.

Scully began pacing her living room. “You better have a court order!”

What the hell? Doggett had no idea what this was about. “For what? Who is this?”

She wasn’t buying his feigned ignorance. “How many phones are you tapping? How many agents are you doing surveillance on?”

“Is this Agent Scully?” Doggett could only think of one female agent who particularly hated him at the moment.

“Thank you. You just answered all my questions.” Scully then slammed the phone down.

Doggett stared at the receiver, listening to the dial tone. After hanging up, he turned around to face the room, sticking two fingers in his mouth, and whistled loudly. The buzz in the room went quiet and the agents gave him their rapt attention.

“I don’t suppose anyone in this room was stupid enough to install surveillance on Agent Scully’s apartment and wiretap her phone without telling me about it? Anyone?”

Everyone’s face fell, and the air in the room became tense, as they all looked at the ominous glare Doggett was giving off. One by one, they all slowly shook their heads.

“We’d need a judge to sign off on that, John,” Agent Crane spoke up.

Doggett sighed, and nodded. Maybe Agent Scully was imagining things. But he had a bad feeling about this. Something wasn’t right.

*****

Scully turned her key in Mulder’s lock and opened the door, feeling strangely intrusive. She stepped inside his apartment, flipping a light switch and closing the door behind her. It was dark and cool inside, and she walked through the foyer to his living room. After approaching his desk, she turned on the lamp and saw that Mulder’s computer was gone, and the outline of dust from where it had used to be. Scully couldn’t help inwardly groaning in annoyance over his lack of cleanliness.

But at that moment she knew the intruder in her apartment building, the one who had also stolen her own computer, hadn’t been Mulder. It couldn’t have been. Scully had momentarily hoped that it was him, but was now glad that it hadn’t been. Breaking into her apartment without a word, taking things from her and then leaving with no communication, Mulder hiding from her, was too scary to think about. Scully glanced at the couch, and another memory rushed forward in her mind...

She rose up and down above him, taking him deep inside. Her mouth fell open, gasping, her eyes closed, her head lolling from side to side, overwhelmed by the ecstasy of him thrusting inside her pulsating inner walls. She rested her palms flat on his chest, pressing him into the black leather. He let out a low groan, urging her to quicken her pace with his hands gently gripping her hips. She rolled her pelvis in circles, eliciting a guttural moan from his throat. She looked down into his eyes, and his hands started to move up from her hips as she lowered herself for a kiss. He held her face with his hands and buried his fingers in her hair, devouring her lips. She was forced to break from the deepening kiss when her orgasm overwhelmed her. Clenching around his pulsating shaft, she milked him, draining his release and evoking loud moans, his body going rigid. She collapsed on top of him, sweaty and breathless, and they softly caressed each other back to reality.

…As Scully passed the bedroom door, she noticed it was left wide open. Mulder never used to do that. He would always keep it closed. She then saw one of his blue dress shirts lying crumpled at the foot of the unmade bed. She and Mulder had last slept in that bed on Thursday night. Less than a week ago. Yet it seemed like a lifetime ago. She entered the bedroom, flipping a light switch, and walked over to the bed. She picked up the shirt, his scent still palpable, and after staring at the bed, she laid down on his side, laying her head on his pillow and cradling the shirt in her arms. There was no fight left in her. She felt weak. Breathing in his comforting scent, her eyelids became heavy and sleep pulled her under.

_Mulder was in a really bad place. He was naked on some sort of metal chair, his arms and legs were secured by metal rods that seemed to have been drilled through his wrists and ankles. His head was held stationary with both a brace and metal clips attached to his face, three on each side, which stretched his skin in a disturbing manner. He was awake, a bright light above him seen through a sort of watery lens. A high-pitched whirring began sounding, and a mechanized double-pronged probe pushes itself into his nose, blocking his nasal passages, and he opened his mouth to breathe. Another probe, this one with a spinning drill bit at the tip, then appeared. As it entered his mouth, a bright light attached to it turned on. Mulder screamed as the drill entered his soft palate._

Scully woke with a start, the sound of Mulder’s screams still in her ears, but the details of the dream quickly faded. Once again, her eyelids became heavy and she succumbed to her exhaustion, turning to lie on her other side, still clutching the blue dress shirt to her body.

On Thursday morning, June 1st, Scully awoke in Mulder’s bedroom to the sound of footsteps. She looked around the room, and then turned over to sit up, facing the doorway. She was startled to see Agent Doggett standing there. She got off the bed and walked towards him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I could ask you the same,” Doggett replied suggestively. Once again, his suspicions about the nature of Agents Mulder and Scully’s relationship were confirmed.

Scully averted her eyes. “I came by to feed Mulder's fish.”

Doggett wasn’t buying it. “And then you got tired and decided to take a nap.”

She glared at him. As Mulder’s partner, she had every right to be there. Doggett had none. After proceeding to argue and talk in circles, Doggett finally got to the point of why he was at Mulder’s apartment.

“I'm just trying to find him,” he said sincerely.

“Then what are you doing here?” Scully replied, frustrated. If Agent Doggett truly wanted to find him, then he was wasting his time setting up surveillance on her apartment and on Mulder’s.

He opened the manila folder of Lariat Rental Car receipts. “Trying to figure these out. I found them in his desk there. Car rental receipts on Agent Mulder's Visa. Four consecutive weekends in May. Same mileage each trip… 370 miles, 375 miles. Where was he going?”

This didn’t make any sense to Scully. “I don't know.”

“Like I said, maybe you really didn't know your partner,” Doggett replied. It was obvious Mulder had something to hide, and he was determined to figure it out.

Scully wanted to say more, but held back. There was no way she could reveal just how close her and Mulder were. She wanted to explain that it was impossible that Mulder had driven somewhere every weekend because he’d been with her. Well, at least the last two weekends, when they were in Los Angeles and when they came home from Oregon. The first two weeks in May he’d been recovering from that tobacco beetle infestation in his lungs. She supposed it was possible he could’ve taken a quick trip somewhere without telling her. But why wouldn’t he have told her? And why would he rent a car when he owns one? Scully felt a headache coming on, and she was saved from saying anything in response by Doggett’s ringing cell phone.

“John Doggett.”

“It’s Crane. Agent Mulder was here last night.”

“Agent Mulder at the FBI?”

He and Scully looked at each other. She didn’t know what to think. Her landlord had thought he’d seen Mulder too, but whoever stole her computer and the computer at Mulder’s apartment, was definitely not her partner. It couldn’t have been. Could it?

Doggett and Scully quickly returned to FBI headquarters, where Scully learned that someone used Mulder’s pass card to gain entry to the team work room and had stolen some X-files. No one was quite sure which ones. Skinner was brought in and questioned about Mulder’s state of mind, about the audit on the X-Files, and whether or not Mulder would retaliate against the FBI. Scully wanted to scream at them, shout at the top of her lungs that Mulder had decided to walk away, that he’d chosen to have a life with her, that he didn’t give a damn about the FBI. But she kept quiet, for her own protection.

They questioned Skinner about remaining at headquarters the night before until after 10:00 pm. He wouldn’t have used Mulder’s pass card to steal anything from the investigation, and Scully came to his defense as two technicians entered the room, wheeling in a large wooden crate.

“Skinner is telling the truth,” Scully said quietly to Doggett as he watched the crate being opened.

“I believe him. That still doesn't tell us who used Mulder's card to get in there.”

“You think it was Mulder?” Scully asked. She couldn’t believe that.

Doggett glanced at the two agents working on the crate. “I showed you those car rental receipts. Well, now I find Agent Mulder's Visa was used two days ago in Raleigh, North Carolina.”

What the hell was going on? “Two days ago? By who? For what?”

“Flowers,” Doggett replied. “Automatic debit to a mortuary there.”

Scully tried to hide the slight sense of relief she felt, even though this didn’t answer all her questions. “Mulder's mother is buried in Raleigh. That's the reason he was going every weekend.”

Doggett turned his head to look at the crate. “It's one reason.”

The crate was now open, revealing a large tombstone with the heading ‘Mulder.’ Scully’s eyes ran over the headstone, reading the names.

WILLIAM MULDER 1936 – 1995

TEENA MULDER 1941 – 2000

SAMANTHA MULDER 1965 – 1979

FOX MULDER 1961 – 2000

Scully stared at the stone in shock, her stomach knotting. Mulder’s name was freshly engraved. She hadn’t realized that she was slowly backing away from the stone until the back of her thighs hit a desk. She needed to sit down.

She stared at the headstone in disbelief, her hand covering her mouth. Scully knew Mulder. She knew him so much better than they think. What utter bullshit she’d been fed since this so-called ‘search’ for him began. Doggett thought he was so clever, trying to make her doubt Mulder. As if Scully could ever truly believe that Mulder would confide in anyone other than her, that he wasn’t sure he could really trust her. She couldn’t understand the significance of their missing computers, these files at the FBI that had been taken. What could possibly be in both their computers and certain files at the Bureau that someone, or something, would want? She was trying to think like Mulder, but it was proving difficult. If only he had been here. He’d make some great and inspired leap of intuition that would inevitably be right and lead them to the solution. But this… this headstone. How could anyone make sense of it? What was going on?

Agent Doggett then handed her a folder of Mulder’s medical records. The records showed that over the past year, since his recovery from his illness, he’d been going to doctors. Scully didn’t recognize the names of these physicians, and Mulder hadn’t said a word to her about going to see them. He wasn’t one to just voluntarily go see a doctor. He was a terrible patient, usually she had to berate him into getting checked out, and sometimes that didn’t even work.

But Doggett seemed to believe that Mulder, on death’s door, was so distraught over getting his life’s work taken away, that he would break into the FBI and steal files. To cover up… something. Even Doggett didn’t have a clear explanation. If Mulder had really staged his own disappearance, then why would he show up at the FBI to make people then doubt him? Scully couldn’t believe this. She would not believe this. It was too coincidental, too convenient, too contrived. There was no way Mulder would, or even could, hide so severe an illness from her. The records showed a steady decline at each consecutive doctor’s visit, and Mulder would’ve had frequent and noticeable symptoms. The man who’d sat in front of her in the basement office while she perched on the edge of the desk, with his hands caressing her thighs through her skirt, telling her he wanted a life, was not a man who was dying.

Skinner wasn’t going to believe it either, and he spoke defiantly to Scully. “I know what I saw. I not going to sit here and listen to this.” He then got up from the chair and stood in front of Doggett. “I watched it happen.”

She rested her hand subtly on Skinner’s jacket. Scully then stood up and leaned towards Doggett, a pleading note in her voice. “Please don't report that.”

“Don't know what good it would do me,” Doggett replied. “Doesn't help me find Mulder.”

He then walked back to his desk, and Scully placed her hand on Skinner’s shoulder.

“No, it's not good enough,” he spit out, before turning away and leaving the room.

Scully watched as Doggett picked up a phone, and she turned to follow Skinner out the door.

*****

Jesus Christ, it was hot in Arizona. Hot, dry, and dusty. Scully couldn’t put her window down for the dust, and the air conditioner in this SUV Skinner had rented was barely working. She felt exhausted, she felt sick, and she stared through the window at the passing landscape. She felt the speed of the vehicle, watched the heat waves rising off the desert, the glimmer of the air on the horizon. The glimmer was like her hope. If only they could find Gibson Praise before this alien ship did. But then what? How would they stop the ship from moving on somewhere else? How could they save Mulder?

An all-too familiar feeling swept over her, and she grabbed Skinner’s forearm. “Stop.”

“What?” Skinner asked, glancing over at her.

“Pull over. Now.”

He slammed on the brakes, and swerved to the shoulder of the road. Scully unbuckled her seatbelt and threw open the door almost before the vehicle had come to a complete stop. She stumbled out and managed a few steps away from the road, before she bent over and lost what little she had to eat that day. Whoever decided to name this ‘morning sickness’ had a twisted sense of humor.

Scully stood upright, reaching for the small pack of tissues she kept in her pocket, and turned to see Skinner watching her with concern. She didn’t want him to see her like this, she didn’t want anyone at the FBI to see her like this. Nauseous and weak. It would give them a much-needed excuse to stick her at a desk and prevent her from searching for Mulder.

She walked over to Skinner, and he handed her a bottle of water. Scully rinsed out her mouth, and gave him an embarrassed smile. “Sorry.”

He shrugged. “You all right?”

“I’m fine,” was her automatic response.

Skinner sighed, and stared at her.

Scully averted her eyes. “No, I’m not all right. I’m sick, I’m hot, I’m cranky, I’m tired…”

“Well, you’re pregnant,” he replied, shrugging again.

She gave him a hard look. As if she needed the reminder. Skinner looked a bit sheepish at her expression, but he made no efforts to take back what he said or apologize.

After they got back in the SUV and drove a couple more miles, Skinner glanced over at Scully as she stared out the passenger side window and then cleared his throat.

“Scully? This thing with Mulder… about him being sick,” Skinner began. She turned to look at him, arching an eyebrow, to see him resolutely watching the road straight ahead. “I don’t suppose you’ve got those medical records? We can give them a closer look.”

She sighed, and shook her head. “Doggett kept the medical records.”

Skinner glanced at her again. “But what do you think? Do you buy into what those records are saying? Is it possible?”

“Yes, it’s possible,” Scully sighed. “It’s also highly plausible. But I also know that when Mulder was in the hospital in Tennessee back in January and when he was in the hospital in North Carolina just last month, numerous blood tests and X-rays were done, and nothing came up that would signal he had a terminal condition.”

She paused. If someone or something was trying to discredit Mulder, to cloak their search in confusion and doubt, she wouldn’t put it past them to concoct this headstone idea and falsify medical records. She wanted to be confident, she wanted to believe in what she knew to be true, but doubt was creeping in. “Of course, no MRIs or CAT scans were done on his brain. So…”

“Would he really have kept something like this from you?” Skinner asked.

“No.” Scully’s answer sounded firm and confident, not allowing any dissent or second-guessing from her boss. But the doubt was starting to gnaw at her, Doggett’s insinuations that she didn’t truly know her partner. She knew Mulder. She knew him, better than anyone else. Didn’t she?

Her eyelids grew heavy, but she fought off sleep as long as possible. Her body was exhausted, but with sleep came the horrific nightmares. Were those things really happening to Mulder? Her stomach clenched at the thought. It couldn’t be real. She couldn’t bear it. Finally, her tired body and weary mind gave out, and she slipped into unconsciousness.

*****

When they returned to the hospital, after Scully almost commandeered his police chopper, Doggett realized that she was probably right. He uselessly chastised his men for losing Skinner and Gibson Praise, if they _were_ his men. What was he even thinking? That was crazy talk. Doggett turned to see Scully going down the hallway, throwing doors open, before they entered the empty room which once held the boy.

The windows were locked, and there was no exit through the bathroom. Doggett’s eyes were drawn upwards to the ceiling, and after standing on a chair, he flipped one of the tiles, searching with his flashlight, and stared in shock. There was AD Skinner, or someone who looked like Skinner, unconscious and with his eyes swollen shut. The boy wasn’t up there. What the hell was going on?

Doggett raced down the hallway, searching room-to-room along with the rest of his team. The sudden sound of breaking glass stopped him in his tracks, and he began to make his way in the direction the sound came from. Then something more worrying was heard, a gunshot, and at fairly close range.

“Agent Scully!” Doggett shouted, but there was no answer. Weapons were drawn, and they made their way down the hall, going door to door.

The ASAC, Agent Crane, threw open a door, and Doggett entered first, gun drawn. He stopped and stared dumbfounded at the scene in front of him. Gibson Praise stood near the door. Agent Scully was lying on the floor, clearly hurt. And in front of him, in a somewhat human shape, was a large puddle of some kind of green chemical.

“An agent needs help!” Doggett yelled at the men behind him.

He gave a cursory glance over the rest of the room, noticing that Agent Scully’s attacker was no longer there, and holstering his weapon, stepped over the puddle to where Scully laid on the floor. He noticed her assailant inflicted some real damage, deep scratches beside her eye and on her chin, perhaps cut by glass. Probably lots of bruises elsewhere. Doggett lifted her into his arms, resting her against his leg. She began to cry, and he guessed that she covered her face with her hand in embarrassment. He then noticed a lack of activity around them.

“I said an agent needs help!” Doggett yelled over his shoulder at his team, just standing around outside the room like they’ve got nothing better to do. He shouldn’t have to repeat a directive like that. They immediately dispersed.

He held her as best he could, as Scully continued to cry, hand over her face. Doggett knew that she was hiding behind that hand; hiding her injuries, her tears, her fears. She hadn’t accepted his place in this operation, his command in the search for her partner. Maybe he hadn’t really earned it yet, at least as far as Agent Scully was concerned. This woman, so confident and extremely competent, was out there wandering in the desert at night. Alone. What was she doing out there all by herself? What did she expect to find? What makes an agent like Dana Scully throw caution to the wind and roam the desert at night by herself?

Doggett knew what she was looking for, who she was looking for. He was looking for the same person. And he was sure that Agent Scully would be much more comfortable if it was Mulder here holding her instead, but he’d just have to do his best by her. Doggett suddenly felt an indescribable sinking feeling, felt slightly guilty over how he’d treated her over the last few days. The rest of the Bureau might believe Mulder to be a joke, but he clearly meant everything to Agent Scully, simply based on what she’d allow herself to go through just to find him.

Her cries finally lessened, and Doggett watched as the emotion fled from her face, and a wall was raised between them, blocking him out. Finally, a bustle of activity could be heard from outside in the hallway and all Doggett could think of was that it better damn well be a doctor.

On Monday morning, June 5th, Doggett sat in Kersh’s office while the Deputy Director looked over the case report and photographs taken at the crime scene.

“The best I can say is it's lucky it all happened at a hospital,” Kersh stated.

“Very lucky, yes, sir,” Doggett nodded in agreement.

Kersh stared at him. “I assume the hazardous materials or chemicals which caused this must have been medical.”

Doggett knew the forensic team hadn’t had much luck figuring out what that green stuff was, or what had caused Skinner’s reaction. “That has not yet been determined, sir.”

“So much here is _undetermined_ … as remain the whereabouts of Mulder,” Kersh tersely replied, before returning to the report. “But some of your _facts_ … like ‘a man falls from the cliff and disappears.’ … ‘An agent has his throat crushed by an assailant who vanishes into thin air.’ This reads like a piece of pot-boiled science fiction.”

“You mean it reads like an X-File,” said Doggett. “But that's what you intended, wasn't it, sir? When you assigned me to the case.”

Kersh gave him a withering look. “I'll ask the questions, John. You just give me some damn answers.” He then handed over the case file. “Don't come back until you do.”

Doggett stared at him. Here he was, sitting in front of the Deputy Director’s desk like a schoolboy who was sent to the principal’s office. That asshole Kersh never expected or even intended for him to find Agent Mulder. He was gonna fail, not matter what. Well, Doggett was determined not to. The best he could do was to find those ‘damn answers.’ He kept his anger in check and started to walk away from the desk.

“Oh, John,” Kersh said, calling him back.

He turned around, facing the desk, and looked at the Deputy Director.

“I suggest you get acquainted with the basement. And you might want to check in with your new _partner_. I understand she’s still in the hospital out there.”

He stared at Kersh. Partner? He was being sent to work in the basement? Well, his career just took a downturn. That’s just great. And why was Agent Scully still in the hospital? She only had some cuts and bruises.

“You can leave now, agent,” said Kersh without looking up from his desk, dismissing Doggett from his office.

*****

Scully awoke on Sunday afternoon to the sound of voices talking nearby. It didn’t take long to decipher her mother’s voice among them. She opened her eyes to see she was still in her hospital room in Arizona, and turned her head to see her mother and Jennifer, wearing blue jeans and a white tank top and holding baby Hannah, speaking with a nurse.

“Mom?” Scully said weakly, still feeling groggy.

Maggie turned sharply to look at her daughter, and as their eyes met, Scully felt overwhelmed with emotion and her eyes quickly filled up with tears. The nurse excused herself and left the room.

“Oh, Dana,” said Maggie, walking hurriedly over to Scully’s bedside. “We were so worried about you.”

“I was with Mom when she got your message on the answering machine,” Jennifer said, joining Maggie at the bedside. “We could tell something was wrong, just by the sound of your voice. We called you back, but you didn’t answer. Then we got the phone call that you were in the hospital.”

Scully nodded, as Maggie sat in the chair by her bed and reached out to brush her hair back from her forehead.

“Where’s Mulder?” asked Jennifer casually.

“We’ve been here all morning,” Maggie added. “And we haven’t seen Fox at all. Shouldn’t he be here with you?”

Her face crumpled, and Scully began to cry. Jennifer stared at her sister-in-law, eyes wide.

Gibson had said she was ‘so close.’ Scully had never claimed to possess a sixth sense or some other supernatural ability, yet when it came to Mulder, she felt her intuition was stronger than with most other things. And maybe Melissa had been right, maybe they were connected in some way that was extrasensory. Scully’s rational mind told her that it was merely Gibson’s guess or his suggestion that Mulder was nearby, but she’d been so sure she felt Mulder’s presence out there in the desert. She thought she saw a glimmer of something flickering in the distance. She searched for any sign, any sign at all, that Mulder was out there. She felt that he was. But her anger at Agent Doggett’s blind stubbornness and his unwittingly putting Skinner and Gibson in danger drew her away from the desert. She’d made a promise to protect Gibson. She’d failed him before, and she wasn’t about to fail him again. Thank goodness she found him in time to ensure she kept that promise. But she nearly sacrificed her own child in her desperate need to protect Gibson.

Scully had found her paranoia growing exponentially with each passing minute. Any FBI agent, nurse, or doctor could be him. The Alien Bounty Hunter. Her logical mind told her that he was dead. But were there more of him? And how many? Was Mulder still out there in the desert, waiting for her? Was the ship still out there, or had it left? Was Gibson safe? Her mind raced with these fears. It was too late. She’d have to return to Washington all alone, without Mulder.

And now her sensible brain selfishly gave way to the emotional, and she sobbed fresh tears as Maggie did what she could to soothe her daughter. Scully missed Mulder so much it was a constant stomach ache. She felt incomplete, and lost. How was she going to face waking up each morning without his voice in her ear? How was she going to face night after night without his arms around her?

“Dana, what’s happened?” Maggie asked, her voice filled with concern.

“It’s Mulder,” Scully choked out. “He’s missing. We lost him.”

Jennifer closed her eyes and sighed, sitting down in a chair against the wall, holding Hannah on her lap.

Maggie held her daughter’s hand in both of hers. “Take a deep breath, honey, and tell me what happened.”

Scully tried to explain everything about the case in Oregon, omitting as much as possible about aliens and UFOs, trying to keep her mother from the more dangerous aspects of the case. “He was just protecting me,” she said through her tears. “He thought I was the one in danger. I wanted to go with him, but he wouldn’t let me. If I had been there…”

“Then you might’ve gone missing, too. I don’t think I could’ve gone through that again.”

Scully looked at her mother sadly, knowing everything she had put her through over the past seven years, the hospitalizations and death, the heartbreak. And Scully realized that she had something good to share, too. “I, uh, have something else I need to tell you.”

Maggie squeezed her hand. “What is it, honey?”

She heaved a deep sigh. “I’m pregnant.”

Jennifer’s eyes bulged and her mouth fell open. Maggie stared at her daughter in shock, not believing the words that she had just said. “But I thought you couldn’t have children.”

“That’s what I thought, too. But, I… I don’t know. I don’t know how it happened. It doesn’t make any sense to me. But I am pregnant.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you!” Maggie exclaimed, leaning forward to embrace her daughter. “How long have you known?”

Scully sniffled, and fresh tears filled her eyes, brimming over. “Less than a week. Mulder never knew. And now he’s gone. I feel like I came so close here. He was out here, I know he was,” she cried. “I even called out for him, out there in the desert, like a crazy person. But I wanted to believe so badly he was out there, waiting for me, needing my help. I keep having these awful nightmares about him, tortured and hurt, crying out for me. And there’s nothing I can do. I feel so helpless, Mom.”

Jennifer shook her head, and spoke sternly. “There is something you can do, Dana. And that’s take care of yourself, and your baby. Do you think Mulder would like you running all over the desert, and getting hurt? Don’t you want to have good news for him when he comes back?”

She sighed, and wiped the tears from her face. Maggie shot Jennifer a look. Scully sighed again. “It’s okay, Mom. She’s right. I’ve been careless, and that’s why I have to stay in the hospital longer than should’ve been necessary. It’s my own fault. But I’ve been so focused on trying to find Mulder, and still in shock over learning about my pregnancy, that I’ve forced myself to ignore it. I’m afraid of having to take care of this child alone. What if I never find him? What if I never see him again?”

Scully felt confused by so many things: the pregnancy, Mulder’s medical records, that headstone, the reasons why he had been taken, why this should suddenly happen now. Where once had been an unshakable foundation of faith, subversive doubt was starting to grow, tarnishing her faith and trust in Mulder. Damn Kersh and the FBI, and damn that Agent Doggett.

“Dana, look at me,” said Maggie. “Fox never gave up on you when you were taken. And when you were returned to the hospital, I remember how terrified he was to see you in a coma. He practically had to be escorted off the premises, he was screaming so loudly.” Her voice then broke as she became choked with emotion. “And when Melissa and I decided to honor your wishes, and remove you from the respirator, he refused to accept it. He was still fighting for you, still hoping, refusing to give up on you. And you are just like him in that way. I know you won’t give up. And I know that Fox will find a way back to you. He always does.”

She nodded, and reached for a tissue from the box on the bedside table. Scully wasn’t going to give up. She was going to find Mulder. She believed he was out there somewhere, and he was alive. As long as there was life, there was hope. Her hand moved to caress her belly over her hospital gown. She was happy about the baby, and this small life that was growing inside her, this life that belonged to Mulder, was perhaps the biggest motivation she had to never waver in her pursuit. But despite her happiness over her pregnancy, an answer to their prayers, it was difficult to feel excited when a dark cloud hung over their future. Her and Mulder had been cheated. This should’ve been the happiest time of their lives, a time that should’ve only been encumbered by arguments over what color paint to use in the nursery. They had been so close, only to have their first real chance at happiness cruelly ripped away from them.

*****

At 6:30 pm on Monday, June 5th, John Doggett quietly opened the door to Scully’s hospital room. He looked over her badly bruised and cut face, and saw that she was asleep. He wasn’t surprised, after what she’d just been through, whomever or whatever the cause. He sat in the chair at the bedside and slid the ‘Get Well’ card, complete with butterflies and rainbows, into her pale hand, awakening her.

Scully looked at the card. The inscription inside read:

“Sending many wishes

to make sure it won’t be long

until you’re up and well

feeling fine and strong!”

Agent Doggett had signed his name at the bottom. She had no idea what to make of this, and looked over at him sitting next to her.

“My dad always said it's not who wins or loses,” said Doggett. “It's who takes the worst beating that counts.”

“That supposed to cheer me up?” Scully asked dryly.

Doggett watched her eyebrow arch up. He suspected he’d be seeing that expression a lot in the near future. “I thought so. But then I never did get to see your opponent.”

Scully sighed. “And you never will. You still don't believe me.”

He didn’t want to get drawn into another discussion about all that paranormal mumbo jumbo, and so he changed the subject. “What I don't believe is how long they're keeping you here.”

“Oh, it's just some things they have to check out,” she replied evasively. “Make sure of.”

Doggett noticed the pensive, slightly worried expression cross her face as it turned away from him. He wanted to press further, ask her exactly what was going on. But Agent Scully didn’t trust him. He couldn’t blame her. But he was going to change that, and he was going to start now.

“Well, I've got some things I thought you'd want checked out,” he told her. “AD Skinner is in stable condition, resting comfortably and awaiting diagnosis and further study. Ditto Agent Landau, his throat. Gibson Praise is right now a ward of the state but I asked for special protections, as I assumed you would yourself.”

“What are you doing here, Agent Doggett?” asked Scully, with slight disbelief. Did he really fly all the way back to Arizona just to tell her this? He could’ve sent it to her in a memo when she got back. And technically, he didn’t have to tell her anything at all.

“Keeping you apprised of the case,” he replied.

Scully felt uneasy. Was this a trap? “That's not your job.”

He thought that her eyes looked troubled, and then they were veiled again. He couldn’t read them. “It is, actually. And officially.” Doggett stood up from the chair, feeling slightly uncomfortable. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to go over well. “I'm… assigned now to the X-Files.”

She stared at him in shock and disbelief. She was getting a new partner? No. This couldn’t be. Was this just the FBI trying to keep a close watch on her? To prevent her from looking for Mulder?

Doggett looked down, and started to walk away towards the door. He could see the disbelief in her face, and maybe even disappointment. But that was all, she wasn’t about to show him anything more. It would probably take a lot of time to penetrate her protective shield, to chink that famous ice-cold armor. He was determined to win her trust, to make her believe that he was only after the truth, to make her see that he was going to do what he set out to do in the first place.

“Whatever you and I may differ on,” he said, looking up from the door. “I'll find him, Agent Scully.”

He walked out of the room. It was a promise Doggett intended to keep. He was sure he’d be able to find Mulder much faster if Scully opened up a little and allowed him to help her. He thought of the other file in his hand, and immediately turned back for her hospital room. He knocked and opened the door.

Scully stared at him. “Back so soon? How’d I get so lucky?”

Doggett suppressed a smirk. “I found a discrepancy in Mulder’s medical records. And I thought you’d like to know.”

Her eyes widened, and she sucked in her breath, looking at Doggett expectantly. He sat back down in the chair by her bed and opened Mulder’s file.

“It says here that his most recent doctor’s visit was on Monday, April 3rd,” Doggett said, looking down at the record. “He saw a Dr. Barry Tate in Washington, where his neurological condition was noted to have become increasingly worse.”

Scully swallowed, her stomach in knots, her eyes glued to Doggett.

He looked up at her. “Agent Mulder was in England on April 3rd. He wasn’t even in the country. So how could he have seen this Dr. Tate in D.C.?”

She heaved a sigh of relief. She knew Mulder never would’ve hid something so serious from her, but it felt good to have hard proof right in front of her. “Where did you get those records from?”

“Kersh’s office,” Doggett grumbled. “There were some medical records in your basement office, from various hospital stays over the years as a result of injuries on the job and such. But we couldn’t get our hands on any doctor’s records from personal visits.”

“Mulder wasn’t one to go to the doctor for regular check-ups,” Scully said, with slight disapproval in her tone.

Doggett nodded. “And then these records were sent to us from Kersh’s office, apparently the Deputy Director pulled a favor and put in an official request to release Mulder’s medical information.”

Scully arched an eyebrow. “Those medical records are bullshit. The FBI wants to attribute Mulder’s disappearance to anything other than what really happened.”

“You’re right.”

She looked at him in surprise.

He sighed. “We might disagree on what really happened to Mulder, but I think we do agree that the FBI has done a damn good job of muddying the waters.”

Doggett then got up from the chair, leaving the falsified records with Scully. “I’m sure you can find more discrepancies in there than I ever could. Go back through your calendar, try to remember what may have been going on around the dates of these doctor’s visits. I'll check in on you later.” He then left the room, and made his way out of the hospital.

*****

On Tuesday, June 6th, Scully sat in the chair next to Skinner’s bedside. He was sitting up in bed, looking much better. She had already been discharged, and she was waiting on Doggett. They were to fly back to Washington together later that morning.

“You know, for all the times I told Mulder he was paranoid and crazy, at least he knew how to be,” Scully said, crossing her arms.

Skinner gave her a puzzled look.

She sighed. “I guess I don’t know how to handle paranoia very well.”

“You don’t trust your own judgment?” he asked.

“Didn’t I point my gun at you? Again?” Scully uncrossed her arms and sat back in her chair. “Mulder was always right. Always trusted his gut instincts, his own judgment. He was even right about me, when I was sent to work with him. He knew I’d been sent to spy on him, but he also knew that I had no part in that. And he trusted me right away, even though I was sent to debunk his work.”

Skinner nodded. “Well, he was right about you. You didn’t debunk his work. You gave him credibility.”

She shook her head. “There was nothing to debunk. Mulder had been right all along. About everything. Aliens. Government conspiracies. Monsters. He always told me that I was the stronger one, but he was wrong about that. I was a coward, refusing to believe out of fear. Mulder had always known they were real.”

“You’re not afraid to believe anymore, though,” Skinner stated. “Which is a good thing. The basement needs a believer down there.”

“Do you trust Agent Doggett?” asked Scully, looking down at her entwined fingers.

Skinner looked her over, and thought he’d never seen her look so defeated and scared, as if she didn’t even trust herself. “Dana, I know you’re afraid to trust him. But the last thing you should do is give the FBI a reason to take the X-Files away from you. Your pregnancy is one thing. But reject Doggett as your new partner, refuse to work with him, and they’ll use that as a convenient excuse as well. I’m willing to bet that’s what Kersh intended.”

Scully closed her eyes, different what-ifs and scenarios running through in her mind. She’d always been afraid to believe. But was that fear so strong that it could overwhelm her common sense and her instincts? Her gut instincts told her she could trust Doggett. But what if she was wrong? She then remembered something he’d said to her during that helicopter ride to the hospital.

_“I can see you’re scared. But if Mulder isn’t the bad guy here, then who is? Why won’t you help me solve this?”_

She’d been too angry then to give him a reply. The what-ifs and different scenarios were laid out in front of her like a minefield. To trust or not to trust Agent Doggett weighed heavily on her mind. Lying in the hospital for two days had given her time to think, too much time. She often felt suffocated by her own thoughts.

There was a knock at the door, and Doggett entered. “How are you doing, sir?”

“Fine, Agent Doggett,” Skinner answered.

“You ready to go?” he asked Scully.

She glanced at him, and then nodded, getting up from the chair. After a quick goodbye to Skinner, she followed Doggett out of the hospital room. Two hours later, she was on a plane heading home to Washington, staring out the window. The farther they flew away from Arizona, the heavier the weight of guilt sank in her stomach. She’d gone out there to find Mulder, and had failed. And now she was being forced to work with a new partner, someone who could likely turn out to be untrustworthy.

Mulder would come back to her. She knew that he would, even if she didn’t know how. All she could do in the meantime was try to think like him and carry on the work. She had a feeling she was going to fail miserably. She was the scientist, the skeptic, who made Mulder work hard for his wild theories and ideas. Having to be the believer and stand out there on the ledge, that wasn’t a position she was so comfortable in.

And having to work with Agent Doggett would only make this so much worse. By working alone, she could manage to convince herself that Mulder was only gone temporarily and she would see him again soon. But having another partner would be a daily reminder of everything she had lost. Her instincts told her to trust Doggett, but her common sense told her that was dangerous. He was Kersh’s task boy, and will probably report back to the Deputy Director everything she says and does, digging for information to use against her and Mulder. She suddenly wondered how Doggett would react, and the rest of the FBI, when her pregnancy started to show.

This was a time in her life when she should’ve been nothing but happy, and celebrating her happiness with the one she loved. Once again, she felt her and Mulder had been cruelly cheated. Scully feared that one wrong move, one wrong choice, could ruin any chance she had of finding Mulder. Trusting the wrong person, believing a carefully placed lie, and her own child could be at risk. Mulder would never allow his child to become a manipulation to be used by others, like his own life had been, like Samantha had been used against him over the years. Scully had to keep the pregnancy a secret for as long as possible, to protect her child, to protect herself, and to protect Mulder. But this only made her feel more alone than ever.


	77. "How often have I been wrong? You tell me I'm not being scientifically rigorous and that I'm off my nut, and then in the end who turns out to be right, like 98.9% of the time?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully goes to her first prenatal visit with Dr. Parenti. Doggett and Scully both try to adjust to life in the basement office with a new partner.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog of the episode "Patience" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Florence and the Machine – “Cosmic Love”
> 
> A falling star fell from your heart  
> And landed in my eyes  
> I screamed aloud, as it tore through them  
> And now it's left me blind
> 
> The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out  
> You left me in the dark  
> No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight  
> In the shadow of your heart
> 
> And in the dark, I can hear your heartbeat  
> I tried to find the sound  
> But then it stopped, and I was in the darkness  
> So darkness I became
> 
> The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out  
> You left me in the dark  
> No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight  
> In the shadow of your heart
> 
> I took the stars from my eyes, and then I made a map  
> And knew that somehow I could find my way back  
> Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too  
> So I stayed in the darkness with you
> 
> The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out  
> You left me in the dark  
> No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight  
> In the shadow of your heart
> 
> The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out  
> You left me in the dark  
> No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight  
> In the shadow of your heart

At 8:05 am on Thursday, June 8th, Scully sat in Dr. Parenti’s office in College Park, Maryland, entwining her fingers nervously and waiting for the doctor to come in. After a couple minutes, he walked into the office and warmly greeted Scully.

“Dana!” Dr. Parenti said after closing the door behind him. “So nice to see you again. I honestly wasn’t expecting to.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Scully replied, shaking his hand. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting this either. I still can’t believe it. And thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

“Oh, not a problem.” He sat down at his desk with his clipboard, and looked over her information. “Well, we received the results of your blood work you had done yesterday in D.C. So, you can start believing it. You are indeed pregnant.”

She sighed, nodding her head.

“Now, I was expecting you to be farther along than you are,” Dr. Parenti said. “But based on the blood work, you’re only at nine weeks.”

“Farther along?” asked Scully, slightly confused.

He nodded, glancing down at her chart. “Just based on when we performed the last IVF procedure, yes. I assumed that the spotting you had told me about was most likely implantation bleeding, and the IVF had really worked. But from your blood test results, and from what you wrote down here that April 1st was the first day of your last period, it appears… that you conceived naturally.”

Scully looked at her entwined fingers laying on her lap. “I… I don’t know how this happened.”

“Well, from your medical records it's evident that you’ve always had consistently normal and healthy hormone levels, even after the onset of premature ovarian failure,” Dr. Parenti said. “I don’t really have an explanation, other than perhaps your infertility diagnosis wasn’t as severe as was once thought.”

She sighed. Having all of her ova taken from her seemed pretty severe, and she didn’t think that was a problem that could just repair itself.

“I’m sure you’d like to know your due date,” said Dr. Parenti, smiling.

Scully gave him a small smile, and nodded, butterflies filling her stomach.

Dr. Parenti glanced down at the paperwork. “Well, your baby is due on, or around, January 6th of next year.”

“Okay,” she replied, sighing.

“Now, I have a few questions for you,” he said, flipping a page on the clipboard. “Do you, or your partner, or anyone in either of your families have a chromosomal or genetic disorder, had developmental delays, or was born with a structural birth defect?”

She shook her head and a small, sad smile broke out on Scully’s face as a memory came forward, of Mulder sitting on a bench in a small town in Pennsylvania. _“_ _Well, aside from the need for corrective lenses and a tendency to be abducted by extraterrestrials involved in an international governmental conspiracy, the Mulder family passes genetic muster.”_

“Okay,” Dr. Parenti nodded. “Have you taken any medications or nutritional supplements since your last period?”

Scully looked at the doctor, coming out of her reverie, and shook her head. “No.”

“Have you used drugs or alcohol since your last period?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but paused. She remembered a night of champagne in Los Angeles, Coronas on the beach, Shiner Bock while watching _Caddyshack_. Scully sighed. “I drank a few times.”

Dr. Parenti nodded. “Hard liquor? To the point of excess?”

“No,” Scully replied, shaking her head. “I can count a few times in the past two months where I drank alcohol. And it was only a couple beers. A glass or two of red wine. Some champagne one night.”

“Well, I’m sure everything’s okay,” he said. “Lots of women drink unknowingly while they’re pregnant in the first few weeks. It generally doesn’t lead to any problems. But we can do some prenatal testing, if you want to be safe. I can set up an appointment for the first-trimester combined, and we’ll do a blood test and a nuchal translucency screening.”

Scully nodded in agreement. She found that she wasn’t particularly concerned with those occasional evenings that had included alcohol recently, but she did feel anxious about what possible abnormalities might be present. As happy as she was about having a baby, her happiness was not only marred by Mulder’s abduction, but also her growing worries about the pregnancy itself. Not knowing how or why this could have happened was unsettling, and she wished Mulder was sitting in this office with her. The unknown would’ve been far less scary with her partner by her side.

Dr. Parenti grabbed his pen and looked down at his desk calendar. “Okay. Well, the NT scan must be done between weeks 11 and 14, because this is when the base of your baby’s neck is still transparent. Babies with abnormalities tend to accumulate more fluid in the back of the neck during the first trimester.” Scully nodded her understanding, and he continued. “So… why don’t you come in on Monday, June 26th, in the afternoon? I have an opening at 5:30 pm.”

“Okay, I can be here,” she replied.

“Great,” said Dr. Parenti. “I’m also going to order some standard blood tests to identify your Rh status, check for anemia, test for HIV, syphilis, and hepatitis B, as well as test your immunity to chicken pox and rubella.”

Scully nodded, and afterwards she left the office and was escorted to an exam room, where Dr. Parenti performed a physical and a pelvic exam. Following the exam, he gave Scully advice on eating well, foods to avoid, weight gain, and the importance of prenatal vitamins, discomforts of early pregnancy and symptoms that would require immediate attention, the dangers of smoking, drinking alcohol, and taking certain medications. He also discussed some do’s and don’ts of travel, exercise, and sex during pregnancy; occupational and environmental hazards that can affect her pregnancy, and how to avoid certain infections.

“Have you told the FBI that you’re going to have a baby?” he asked.

She sighed, hesitating. “I did tell my boss, but that was off the record and he’s keeping it to himself. So, no, the FBI doesn’t technically know about it.”

He nodded his head slowly. “Well, you might want to do that soon. It’s a dangerous job, and for your own benefit, the safety of your pregnancy, I’m sure you’ll want to avoid high-risk situations.”

Scully swallowed, and averted her eyes. She felt torn between her common sense, her desire to protect the life growing inside her, and her need to find Mulder. She still felt determined to keep her pregnancy a secret for as long as possible.

“Now, your emotional health is also very important,” Dr. Parenti added with a kind smile. “How have you been feeling since learning about the pregnancy?”

“Um…,” Scully began, pausing, as her stomach knotted. “I… I guess I feel a mixture of things. I’m happy, of course. But, um, I’m also anxious about it and… there’s just been a lot going on lately.”

He nodded, looking her over thoughtfully. “Well, what about your partner? Has he been supportive?”

Averting her eyes, she sighed and chewed her bottom lip. “Um… he’s not... He was… working on a case and… he went missing. I… I’ve been dealing with this on my own.”

“Dana, I’m so sorry,” Dr. Parenti replied, his eyes widening slightly. “Listen, if you’re ever feeling depressed or overly anxious, don’t hesitate to let me know. I want you to call me anytime you need to, okay? And you should surround yourself with a good support system, family and friends. But I could also refer you to someone who can help, if you ever need someone to talk to. We have excellent licensed social workers here who specialize in family planning.”

“Thank you,” said Scully quietly.

Shortly afterwards she departed Dr. Parenti’s office and made the 30 minute drive back to Washington, heading for FBI headquarters.

*****

Early on Monday morning, June 12th, Agent John Doggett was sitting in Fox Mulder’s office in the basement of FBI headquarters. He’d been assigned to the X-Files for less than a week now, and he found himself wondering from time to time just how he had ended up down there. People may not like him, but they should respect him. Maybe that was just the Marine in him, or the NYPD detective. Those were some tough-as-nails jobs. Being an FBI agent was a hard job, too, and he liked to think this meant he deserved respect from those around him. Doggett chose this career path because he believed in serving his country, protecting the innocent, fighting for democracy and all those grandiose ideals.

He became very successful as a detective in the Fugitive Division of the NYPD, and so after his initial shock over being chosen by Kersh to head the search for Agent Mulder, he quickly started to think it wasn’t so surprising after all. Doggett put together a team, and absolutely no one, not even agents who had been with the Bureau a lot longer than him, questioned his strategies or orders. Agent Scully sure did, though.

Doggett was expecting this, however. He knew she had a bit of a reputation upstairs. He’d occasionally heard the nickname Ice Queen from a few of the guys, but he also suspected this name was used so they’d have an excuse not to pursue their personal interest in Agent Scully, and therefore avoid rejection. Tom Colton, one of the guys in the VCU, had said quite a few times that Mulder had turned her into a ‘stone-cold bitch.’ He hadn’t believed everything that he’d heard said about Mulder, but Doggett had believed the things said about Agent Scully.

He hadn’t actually believed the talk floating around about Agent Mulder from some of the secretaries around here, and of course he’d been talking shit when he tried to trip up Agent Scully about these women Mulder had supposedly confided in. Everyone with half a brain knew Mulder didn’t confide in anyone outside that basement. Maybe AD Skinner had been included in their confidences, but he was also their boss, and so Doggett was sure Skinner’s admittance into their inner circle was limited. Everyone knew Agents Mulder and Scully were different. While there were many agents working in other departments, and Doggett could never have counted just how many were in the Violent Crimes Unit alone, the X-Files department contained two agents and that was it. Mulder and Scully were a unit all to themselves, and they’d been working together for seven years. FBI partners staying together for that long was becoming rarer and rarer these days. Everyone knew it was pointless to separate them, and probably nothing could ever come between them. Certainly not the empty talk of jealous secretaries. And Doggett had gotten a cup full of water in his face for the insinuation.

The friction between himself and Agent Scully proved to be the least of his problems, as Doggett then found himself running around the Arizona desert trying to find a 14 year old boy whom Mulder believed was part-alien. And then Mulder had been there, or someone who looked a lot like him, and then promptly fell off a cliff, where he afterwards got up and ran away. Then someone who looked an awful lot like Agent Scully almost ripped the throat out of one Doggett’s men. Finally, Skinner had been found unconscious in a hospital room ceiling and Scully was found lying on the floor near a man-sized puddle of green ooze. The lab at Quantico still had no idea what that stuff was. Of course, Agent Scully could tell them what it was. It was the remnant of what had once been the body of a shape-shifting Alien Bounty Hunter. Right.

But then she had been hurt, and Doggett had held a sobbing Scully in his arms. She didn’t seem all that ‘stone-cold,’ and he remembered that the folks at Quantico adored her and the guys in the crime lab liked her a lot. As he had knelt on that hospital floor, cradling Agent Scully in his arms, for the first time Doggett had started to feel that he was out of his depth with this thing, that there was something much bigger going on here that he couldn’t wrap his head around.

And the cherry on top was finding out Kersh had probably been trying to railroad him. He set Doggett up with a case that seemingly had no solution, a case where he would fail, one that could possibly tarnish his reputation. That asshole. Of course, this brought him the appointment of becoming Agent Scully’s new partner. As expected, she was absolutely thrilled by this news.

Doggett had never planned on becoming the Justice Department’s vampire hunter. He also certainly had never imagined having Agent Scully as a partner. But there were questions he wanted answered. He’d also made a promise to Agent Scully that he would find Mulder, and he was bound by his word to do everything in his power to find him. And Agent Scully was just the kind of partner Doggett preferred. She was a hard worker, smart, and she didn’t take any shit from anyone, especially him. But he was also keenly aware that she didn’t want him around. At all. How was he supposed to deal with that in a partner?

So he set out to make the best of the situation. Doggett spent the entire weekend camped out in the basement, reading all those X-files in the cabinets, as well as came in extra early this morning. As it turned out, aliens only made up a portion of Agents Mulder and Scully’s case load. He found himself in shock as he read case report after case report documenting every weirdness ever imagined. A liver-eating mutant who could squeeze through air vents? A satanic cult masquerading as a local PTA? A guy who could talk cops into killing themselves? A guy who needed to eat cancerous tumors so he could regrow his own head? A vampire pizza boy living in an RV park? A demon wanting nothing more than normal, healthy human children to love? A fictional character from a book ripping out Scully’s heart with his bare hands?

He had no idea how Mulder and Agent Scully were even still alive after seven years of that shit. No wonder people thought Mulder was crazy. Anyone would go crazy after dealing with all of that.

Doggett sighed, and glanced at his watch. It was almost 8:30 am. He decided to get out of the basement and took the elevator to the eighth floor, where he walked to the cafeteria to get a cup of coffee.

“Hey, Doggett! How’s it goin’?”

He turned around after paying for his coffee to see his friend Agent Brent O’Donnell of the VCU. “Mornin’ Brent.”

O’Donnell turned to walk with him out of the cafeteria. “So where you comin’ from, John?”

“My office,” Doggett replied. He didn’t like the way that sounded, it was strange.

“Don’t you mean Spooky’s office?” asked O’Donnell.

He sighed. Everyone knew the office wasn’t really his. “Yeah.”

O’Donnell cleared his throat. “So… what’s it like working with Dana Scully?”

“She’s a good agent,” answered Doggett, who then shrugged slightly. “We haven’t exactly worked any cases together yet, not technically. And the search for Agent Mulder has kinda hit a wall.”

“So is it true?” Agent O’Donnell asked. “What they say about Spooky and his Ice Queen? Were they, uh… you know…”

Doggett sighed again. Of course they were, but it’s not like he was ever gonna say so. “I really wouldn’t know.”

Agent Jim Swanson, O’Donnell’s partner of two years, then approached them in the hallway. “Hey, John! How’s life below surface?”

“Very funny,” Doggett chuckled.

“You still working the manhunt for Mulder?” Swanson asked.

He nodded, pressing the down button outside the elevator doors. “Yeah.”

Swanson and his partner exchanged glances. “You mind if we come down with you? Take a look?” asked O’Donnell.

“Sure, why not?” Doggett shrugged, and the elevator doors then opened. The agents stepped into the compartment, Doggett pushing the 'B' button before the doors closed.

*****

At 8:45 am on Monday, June 12th, Scully walked into the X-Files’ basement office and set up the slide projector. She then approached the desk and stared at the large poster on the wall. ‘I Want To Believe.’ A very simple and honest phrase, and yet living by it was one of the most difficult things a person could do. Mulder spent his life with that phrase on his sleeve and tattooed across his forehead for the world to see, but he’d also once implied many years ago that believing wasn’t easy after she’d said that unlike him, she couldn’t just take the easy answer, that she needed proof. She wished he was standing in the office with her right now, telling her “I told you so.”

He had been right. Believing wasn’t easy. Scully thought she respected and admired him now more than ever. That Agent Chesty Short had told her she was a believer because she’d never been able to really prove Mulder wrong. She’d countered that she wasn’t a complete disbeliever. But is that what the X-Files needed? Someone who wasn’t a complete disbeliever and an ex-cop who used phrases like ‘paranormal mumbo jumbo’ and ‘supernatural hogwash’? Mulder had large shoes to fill down here, and Doggett certainly wasn’t up to the task. But was she?

Mulder believed in the truth as if it was an absolute faith, his holy grail. He didn’t always need concrete proof or physical evidence. His belief was loyal and strong, and sometimes blinding. But it was pure, and good. And much to Scully’s chagrin, he was never one to wait for lab results or to consult with experts, at least in the early days of their partnership. Over time, Mulder learned the importance of holding proof and evidence, and she supposed she learned to go with her gut instincts more often. He asked her over and over again to believe, demanded to know why she refused to. She saw the world in black and white, in concrete right and wrong, with a scientific and logical mind. Mulder wanted her to see shades of gray, and maybe even bright colors, but for many years she could never do it.

Scully perhaps never truly understood his unwavering belief system until now. Until Mulder was abducted. She could never comprehend why he could believe something when there were overwhelming facts contradicting that belief. Maybe he believed because no one else would. Someone had to take leaps of faith, follow their gut instincts, and play the hunches. It certainly was never going to be Scully. She was a scientist and a doctor. She never played guessing games. She never went out on a limb. The idea was ridiculous, and terrifying.

But how would Mulder feel knowing there were now two skeptics in the basement? Who was going to take the leaps of faith? Who was going to go with their gut and play the hunch, make the necessary connections that would lead to a solution? It sure as hell wasn’t going to be Agent Doggett.

Scully looked down at the desk, and saw the nameplate emblazoned with ‘FOX MULDER.’ She picked it up and held it in her hands. If she was going to be the necessary believer, knowing this was what the X-Files and Mulder needed, then she was going to have to step up and take control of the work.

She walked around the desk, and just as she was about to put the nameplate away in the middle desk drawer, she suddenly heard male voices cheerfully making their way down the hall outside the office.

“So, this is where the bad kids are banished to,” said Agent Swanson.

“Put me down here I'd probably cook up a lot of crazy ideas, too,” Agent O’Donnell replied.

Doggett and his friends laughed. They walked around the corner into the doorway, Doggett leading the way, and stopped when they saw Scully. An uncomfortable pause ensued. He wasn’t expecting to see her there yet. This was the first time she’d shown up at the office before 9:30 am.

Scully stared at them coldly. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Doggett replied, before turning around and speaking quietly to his two companions in the doorway. “Um… I'll catch you guys later.” Agents Swanson and O’Donnell left silently, and he turned to join her in the office.

“Some friends… they're just curious.” He suspected their presence had bugged her. He then noticed Mulder’s nameplate in her hand. Had she been about to put it away in the desk?

She couldn’t believe this. Bringing down some of the good ole boys to laugh at her, and Mulder. “I'm not here to be a curiosity, Agent Doggett. I'm here to work.”

He nodded, under the impression that she was staring at him like he was an insect she’d like to squash. Or maybe a government spy. “I am, too, Agent Scully. I've been here all weekend and early this morning went over every X-File in the cabinet there. Just left to get some coffee.” He lifted his cup.

Scully blinked, a little surprised he would devote his weekend off to reading case files. “Well… do you have any questions?”

“Just a few,” Doggett replied, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. What an understatement. “Maybe first you could tell me where your area is here and… uh… where mine's going to be.” He watched her eyes betray some emotion, even though her body was rigid. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, what was going on underneath the surface. She suddenly looked vulnerable, and sad. But then he watched her eyes become just as unyielding as her body language.

“This is my partner's office, Agent Doggett,” she said, knowing how Mulder would feel about him being there, inviting his FBI buddies down to the basement for a good laugh. “You and I will just be using it for a while.” She set his nameplate down firmly on the desk.

Doggett got the message. He knew she was fiercely protective of Agent Mulder. He could understand that, especially after reading all those case files. He'd read about her abduction, her cancer. He'd read about all the times Mulder had almost died. He didn’t think there existed another pair of human beings who could’ve ever gone through the kind of shit in an entire lifetime that they had gone through in just seven years. They were obviously more than just an FBI partnership, far more than mere co-workers. He knew that. “So, where do we get started?”

Scully started the slide projector as Doggett turned out the overhead light.

*****

At 4:28 pm on Wednesday, June 14th, Scully and Doggett were sitting in their rental car in Burley, Idaho, watching Myron Stefaniuk through a pair of binoculars as he was filling five gallon gas cans from a tank in his yard with a siphon.

“You know, we've been out here for nine hours,” she said. “The only thing this man seems to be in danger of is terminal loneliness.”

He chuckled at her joke.

Scully felt discouraged. “Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe this is all just a… a grand coincidence and we're wasting our time out here.”

“You were so sure before,” replied Doggett.                                  

“Yeah, I was sure of the facts as I had deduced them scientifically. Maybe I'm… I'm trying to force them into shape. Maybe I'm manufacturing a theory.”

He didn’t think that was the case. “Well, what happened to taking a leap?”

Scully stared out the windshield, averting her eyes. “Maybe I'm just trying too hard.”

“To do what? To be Mulder?”

She thought seriously about what he said. She made the leap, and it frightened her. She doubted herself in this role. Was she pushing too hard? Was she trying to fill Mulder’s shoes, despite how impossible that was? Was she just being stupid? She wondered what it had been like for Mulder, that first leap, that first time he went out on the ledge and made a wild connection.

“You know, I'm not Oxford educated,” said Doggett. “About all I know about the paranormal is men are from Mars and women are from Venus.”

She rolled her eyes and snorted. Mulder would just love having his life’s work in this man’s hands.

“But I don't think you're wrong, Agent Scully,” Doggett concluded confidently.

She looked at him. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, I'm no Fox Mulder, but I can tell when a man's hiding something. Myron Stefaniuk fishes a woman out of the river who's been gone for 40 years. He has a brother he hasn't seen in over 40 years. A brother who just happened to hunt down some kind of creature over 40 years ago.”

Scully could see a connection was there, but what that was she had no idea. “Well, what does he have to hide?”

“Well, that's what I'm hoping this good cop work is going to show us,” Doggett replied.

She sighed, and resumed watching Mr. Stefaniuk with the binoculars.

Almost six hours later, Scully kicked in the door of the house, weapon in hand. It only took an instant in the dim lighting to see the bat-like creature, crouching over Ernie Stefaniuk’s body. The predator turned its head toward Scully, and her stomach clenched. The creature hissed, blood dripping from its teeth, and she fired five shots into its back. The creature screamed, hopefully in pain, but the pain didn't slow it down as it flew up into the rafters. Scully threw an arm above her head instinctively, but the creature made no attempts to attack. She scanned the ceiling with squinted eyes, trying to make out its shape above her. Ernie Stefaniuk was quiet. Perhaps she had been too late to save him.

“Agent Scully…” spoke Doggett.

She spun around and found herself pointing her gun at her partner, quickly dropping it at her side. He was soaking wet, his shirt covered with blood. She tried to assess his injuries with a quick glance, and he gave her a look of fierce determination. The bat creature suddenly started to flee the cabin, knocking Doggett into her, and they both ended up on the floor of the old porch. Her weapon slid away from her, and she remained down as Doggett shot round after round into the flying, screaming creature. She counted off 11 total shots.

He then rolled weakly to face Scully, and she helped him get to his feet.

“Are you okay?” Doggett asked worriedly, his steel blue eyes intense and concerned.

Scully almost wanted to laugh. He was a mess. “Yeah, I'm okay. But you're not, Agent Doggett.” She started to gently help him lie down on the porch. “I got you.”

She began checking his injuries, and feeling for a pulse as Doggett lost consciousness. Scully looked up into the trees at the sound of the bat creature screeching defiantly at her, before it disappeared into the mist. She then turned her attention to Agent Doggett, and pulled her cell phone from her pocket, dialing 911. Scully pulled off her jacket, laying it over him, and did her best to stop the bleeding until help would arrive.

As she checked his pulse again, pleased it was still strong, she again questioned whether or not she could trust this man. Her initial meeting with Agent Doggett had been far from positive, and Kersh had assigned this manhunt for Mulder just to cover the FBI’s ass. But when Doggett told her that he’d help her, that he’d do what it took to find Mulder, she wanted to believe him.

Scully knew that he found the X-Files hard to understand. She’d been in his place once. She knew exactly how Doggett felt when she made a leap, when she played a Mulder-like hunch. And it wasn’t easy for her to make those leaps without evidence, to strive for the kind of insight that came so naturally to Mulder. The logical and rational scientist was still at play here. But upon reading their case reports, Doggett had acknowledged the fact that usually it takes leaps to solve X-Files. But Mulder wasn’t here right now, so she was going to have to be the one to take those leaps. And she worried that Doggett would criticize her, laugh at her and call her crazy. Scully wondered if this was how Mulder had felt over the years, whenever he shared his theories and hunches with her, knowing she’d shoot them down and even call him crazy.

She didn’t have the inherent confidence that Mulder had, and being in the position of the believer and the leap-taker wasn’t comfortable for her. But Doggett didn’t laugh at her, or call her crazy. He backed her up. He also came back to this cabin for her, knowing it could very well cost him his life. It was what Mulder would have done, without question. As she leaned back against the porch beside Doggett, gun in hand, Scully wondered if it was safe to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she could allow herself to trust him, at least on the job.

The next day, Scully found herself in familiar surroundings. God, she was so fucking sick of hospitals. A hospital stay, for either her or her partner, seemed to be the inevitable conclusion to most cases. She stood outside Doggett’s hospital room in Boise, Idaho, speaking with his doctor, and learned that he was healing from his injuries as well as could be expected. She then opened the door to his room, and he turned his head to watch her walk in.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” asked Scully quietly.

“No,” replied Doggett. “I wasn’t asleep.”

She slid a ‘Get Well’ card into his hand, and he gave her a slight smirk. “Thanks.”

Scully sighed. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

“What?” he asked, knitting his brows.

“It was our first real case together, and you got hurt,” she replied, taking the chair beside the bed.

He shrugged. “I knew what I was signing up for when I joined the Marines. And when I became a cop. And when I went to the FBI Academy. I’ve been injured on the job before. I also knew this would likely happen.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “You knew you’d be attacked by a mutant human bat creature?”

Doggett chuckled. “Not specifically, no. But like I said, I read all those case files. I think you and Mulder have the highest amount of work-related injuries in the entire Bureau.”

“Yes, I’m sure we did.” Scully sighed. “I mean… we do.”

He looked at her thoughtfully. Doggett couldn’t begin to imagine what she must be going through. If it was confusing and uncomfortable for him, he was sure it was a nightmare for her. Trying to do Mulder’s work, make those wild leaps, obviously wasn’t easy for her. That detective sure didn’t make it any easier when he started playing the ‘boys club’ game, assuming Doggett was the man in charge. And he supposed he himself didn’t make it easier for Scully by seemingly patronizing her by stepping in front of her, blocking her out as he addressed the detective. He was sure Mulder never pulled that shit. Scully could fight her own battles. He couldn’t be Mulder. He couldn’t be Scully, for that matter. But Doggett could only try to be the best partner possible.

“Thanks again for the card,” he said, giving her a small smile.

“Give a little, get a little, Agent Doggett.” She gave him a slight grin in return.

*****

On Monday morning, June 26th, Scully stood in the basement office, looking down at Mulder’s nameplate on the desk. She picked it up again, and studied it thoughtfully. Doggett then entered.

“Sorry I'm late. I received a fax up in my old office from Ernie's brother, Myron Stefaniuk.”

She looked at him in surprise. “He's alive? Where is he?”

He looked down at the fax. “He doesn't say. He sent this from a small storefront business just across the state line in Wyoming. He's gone into hiding.”

Scully felt uneasy, not only about that bat creature but about saying something her partner would dismiss as crazy talk. “Do you believe it, Agent Doggett?”

“Believe it?” he replied, unsure what she was referring to.

“That this thing is still out there and… someday it's going to come after us?” she asked, somewhat hesitantly.

Doggett didn’t feel ultra-confident, but he knew that they’d shot 16 rounds between them at that bat thing. “I'm pretty sure I hit it, Agent Scully. Pretty sure you hit it, too.”

She nodded, wanting to believe he was right.

“The guys upstairs were making some noise about this case… about what's in our field report,” he said. Doggett had received nothing but shit from agents in the VCU when he went into his old office. It was mostly good-natured, and they were just busting his balls. But the human bat thing story was making its way around, and Doggett had gotten quite a few strange stares from people as he made his way down to the basement.

“Yeah,” breathed Scully, turning to look at Mulder’s nameplate. It was par for the course on the X-Files. “You'll get used to it.” She picked up the nameplate again, and walked around the desk. “I, uh… I never had a desk in here, Agent Doggett but I'll, um, see that you get one.” She remembered that one time she’d asked why she didn’t have a desk, and she never got a clear answer from Mulder. Just a joke about Battleship, which was clearly a defense mechanism and a deflection. Scully came to believe that Mulder didn’t want them to have separate spaces, didn’t want the office or the work divided into ‘his’ and ‘hers.’ The basement office, the X-Files, was something they shared. It was a real partnership, an equal one. There was no ‘his’ and ‘hers.’ It was ‘theirs.’

He was surprised, and not exactly sure what she meant by that. Doggett wondered why she’d never had her own desk. Maybe there was a possibility she would leave him one day, and Mulder intentionally didn’t want to get too used to her being there, get too attached. Or maybe he intentionally hoped she would leave one day; that the X-Files wouldn’t become an obsessive devotion for her like it was for him, that it wouldn’t become her life. Who knows?

“All right,” he replied, feeling pleased. Maybe she was finally accepting his presence there.

“And I just want to say, um…,” Scully began quietly, feeling slightly uncomfortable. “Thank you for watching my back.”

He watched her avert her eyes, but he kept his gaze direct and open. “Well, I never saw it as an option. I'm sure you don't either.”

They looked at each other a moment, and she nodded. Doggett then walked over to a file cabinet and began looking through it for the Stefaniuk case report. Scully looked at the nameplate again, opened the desk drawer, and paused. She was still the scientist. She was still logical and rational Agent Scully. But she now had to find the courage to play the hunches, to make the leaps of faith. Mulder did have big shoes to fill down there in the basement. But Doggett couldn’t do it, and she wouldn’t let him. She had to be willing to believe, no matter how difficult it was.

Scully wanted to walk into that basement office every day with an open mind and an open heart, with her eyes open to extreme possibilities. She wanted to keep the X-Files alive. She wanted to believe. Scully then placed the nameplate inside the desk that would now belong to her and closed the drawer, imagining Mulder standing right next to her and saying “I told you so.”


	78. “I'm not a part of any agenda. You've got to trust me. I'm here just like you, to solve this.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doggett saves Scully in the nick of time, and doesn't take too kindly to being left behind in Washington. Scully deals with the consequences of pursuing a case alone. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from the episode "Roadrunners" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Vince Gilligan, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Norah Jones – “Waiting”
> 
> Hush now, watch the stars fall  
> Into a fire wall  
> I am waiting here  
> Waiting for you to come home
> 
> Sinking embers glow  
> Melting icy snow  
> And I am waiting here  
> Waiting for you to come home
> 
> And I watch them burn  
> When will I ever learn?  
> If I wait it doesn't mean  
> You will return
> 
> And I watch them burn  
> When will I ever learn?  
> If I wait it doesn't mean  
> You will return
> 
> Now all the stars have gone  
> Faded into cracks of dawn  
> And I'm still waiting here  
> Waiting for you to come home
> 
> I am waiting here  
> Waiting for you to come home

“Cut it out of me now!” screamed Agent Scully.

He watched her clamp her hand on her neck to keep that thing in her back from moving into her head. Doggett pulled out his pocketknife and hesitated, watching it move. He then looked up to see the lunatics of this town entering the barn. They began hammering at the windows of the bus. He moved behind Scully again, and she screamed once more.

“Aah! Just do it, Doggett!”

As the townspeople continued pounding and banging outside, and Scully still screaming, Doggett took his pocketknife and cut into her neck. His stomach was full of knots, and every nerve ending felt inflamed with absolute revulsion. After getting hold of the thing, in one of the most disgusting acts he’d ever done or witnessed, he pulled the squirming slug out of her back. As he did this, the lunatics outside started breaking the bus windows. Doggett stared at the slug in disgust, then threw it to the back of the bus and shot it three times. The middle-aged man he’d spoken to earlier stepped on the bus, along with his fellow psychos, holding Agent Scully’s gun. Doggett turned his weapon on the man, knowing full well he didn't have enough bullets to fend them all off. The man then lowered Scully’s gun as he realized the giant slug thing was dead.

“Why?” the man asked, apparently devastated. The mob of maniacs suddenly looked like a group of children who'd just been told Christmas was cancelled.

Doggett holstered his gun, trying to ignore the bloody mess that was his hands, and wrapped his jacket around a heavily breathing Scully. She was clearly still in a lot of pain. He then slowly and gently picked her up, despite the adrenaline flooding his veins, and carried her off the bus, through the now silent group of people. He thought they stood around as if in some kind of trance.

He looked down to see Agent Scully had finally passed out, thankfully. But it was a miracle she was still breathing. He’d seen Marines crumple by far less pain than she’d had to endure just in the last few minutes. His new partner was obviously a fighter. As he walked down the street, he saw the flashing lights and heard the sirens of the approaching police in the distance. While he carried Scully towards them, he once again felt shocked at the circumstances he suddenly found himself in.

To be associated with a department headed by an FBI agent nicknamed ‘Spooky,’ whose office was kept hidden away in the basement, had seemed like the Kersh-driven nail into the coffin that was Doggett’s career. But at this moment, none of that mattered very much. This was what he did, what he was good at. This was what he was there for.

Of course Doggett cared about his career. He also wanted to find Agent Mulder. He wanted that thing solved. But what he didn’t care about was the opinions of others at the FBI. He couldn’t fucking care less. Doggett was there to do a job, and that was to help Agent Scully. So whether that’s finding Mulder or assisting her with whatever case gets thrown her way, he was going to do his job, he was going to do it right, and he was going to do it to the best of his ability.

And now he was presently dealing with this particular incident. Ha, ‘incident.’ Understatement of the century. He’d seen some pretty bad incidents with the Marines, with the NYPD, and with the VCU. This went far beyond ‘incident.’ This was a total fucking nightmare. What the hell was he going to put in the case report for this one? “My partner screamed while I cut her back open with my pocketknife, finally gouging out a foot-long banana slug, which had taken up residence along her spinal column, before it could get to her brain.” Right. He could imagine the reaction he’d get from the boys upstairs.

The red and blue of the police lights grew brighter, and the sirens grew louder, as several police cruisers belonging to the Juab County Sheriff’s Department arrived, breaking as they approached Doggett and spraying gravel all around. He thought these deputies haven’t got a clue about they were about to find back there. He even doubted the FBI agents at the Salt Lake City field office could’ve prepared themselves for what was going on out there.

Sheriff Ciolino was the first one out of his vehicle. “Agent Doggett!”

“My partner!” he yelled back, carrying Scully towards the sheriff. “She needs help! She needs medical attention! We don’t have time to get an ambulance out here, I need the fastest ride you got that will take us to the nearest hospital!”

The sheriff barked the order at one of his deputies, who then quickly got back in his driver’s seat. Doggett carefully laid Scully down in the back seat of the cruiser and got in beside her, moving her head to lie in his lap. He pressed his jacket more firmly into her upper back, hoping to at least stem the flow of blood, as the deputy pressed his foot down on the gas, spinning around and racing back toward the main road.

“Where’s the nearest hospital?” Doggett asked the deputy.

“In Provo,” he replied. “About 44 miles from here.”

Doggett inwardly groaned as Scully began to stir. He was hoping she’d sleep the entire drive. That would certainly be more ideal than a painful 45-minute ride in the back of a car. At least she wasn’t screaming, but now a soft moaning was coming from her. He instinctively brought his hand to her hair, brushing it back from her face, trying to calm her.

Scully opened her eyes and looked up at Doggett. “Muld… er?” she whimpered, her eyes searching his face.

He looked down at Agent Scully, saw that her eyes were asking silent questions of him. No, he was definitely not Mulder. Doggett slowly shook his head. Mulder could've given her the comfort she needed. He knew she probably would've felt a lot safer had it been Mulder in the back seat with her. Mulder would've known exactly what to do and what to say, or at least convincingly fake it. Doggett also knew that Mulder would've been out there _with_ Scully. She would never have ditched _him_. They probably did everything together. Doggett knew she didn't want him for a partner. She still referred to Agent Mulder as her partner. He knew this wasn't easy for her. It wasn't easy for him, either. But at least he was trying. He knew he couldn't replace Mulder, and he wasn't trying to. But he was trying to be a good partner to her. But that was gonna be difficult if she was going to go off on her own. It was reckless, dangerous, and it made Doggett furious. He wished she'd let him in a little. He wished she'd trust him.

“It’s gonna be all right, Agent Scully. We’re on our way to the hospital.”

He watched her pleading, emotional look then fade as her features clouded, no doubt in realization that Doggett wasn't the man she'd wanted to be there. Scully closed her eyes and turned her face away from his, knitting her brows. She winced in pain at the movement of her head.

“Easy, now,” said Doggett. “Don’t move around. We’ll be there soon, okay?”

Scully’s eyes met his once again and she nodded. He hoped she understood, even though she didn’t say anything. Doggett watched her eyes close, and her body relaxed against him as she slipped back into unconsciousness. He didn't understand one single thing about what had just happened. He felt worried and anxious for her, but also fucking angry.

*****

Scully started slowly waking to familiar sounds, and immediately knew she was in a hospital. Somewhere. Where was she? Why was she there? Memories flooded back to her. Oh, God. She was in Utah. She immediately wiggled her toes and fingers, moved her feet and hands around. She breathed a sigh of relief as she blinked her eyes open.

“Don’t worry, you’re not paralyzed.”

She turned her head sharply to see Agent Doggett sitting in a chair against the wall. His elbow was on the arm of the chair, his hand propped underneath his face, his thumb under his chin, forefinger against his cheek, and his other fingers in front of his mouth. He had a stern look on his face.

“Surprisingly, that giant slug didn’t do any real damage to your spine,” he said. “You’ve got some minor bruising, but nothing severe. The gaping wound in your lower back is a problem. There’s some infection there, and they’ve got you on antibiotics. They also had to stitch you up where I cut that thing out.”

Scully swallowed. She frantically worried about her pregnancy, wondering if anything had been said to Agent Doggett about it. Did he know? “Did the doctor say anything else?”

He shook his head, bringing his hand down to entwine his fingers in his lap, and shrugged his shoulders. “That’s all I know.”

“How long have I been here? What day is it?” Scully knew she’d arrived in Utah on Monday morning, July 3rd, after a local coroner out there had called her on Sunday afternoon asking for assistance on a 22 year old backpacker who’d been murdered, his spine showing signs of osteoporosis, arthritis, and kyphosis.

“It’s Wednesday afternoon,” Doggett replied. “You were admitted last night.”

Uncomfortable silence then filled the hospital room. Scully could see he was angry with her. Well, get in line because she was angry with herself. And she was certain Skinner was going to be pissed. Maybe she should’ve walked those 18 miles to the state road. But at the time, it seemed much less of a risk to stay in that town overnight, despite the creepy vibes she’d gotten.

She’d made some incredibly stupid decisions in the last 48 hours. Well, even longer, if she was going to count getting on a plane and flying to Utah by herself. She was pretty sure Doggett was counting it. She also handed her weapon over to a complete stranger. Something even the greenest of rookies straight out of the Academy knew fell into the category of things you never, ever do. But she honestly believed that man had been an innocent victim. Why wouldn’t he have been? How was she supposed to know they were all in some wacko slug-worshipping cult?

Doggett sighed. “I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna put in the field report. There are only so many ways I can describe what happened out there. No matter how much logic or science you throw at it, Agent Scully, there are only so many terms I can use to describe pulling a foot long slug out of my partner’s back through an incision I made with a pocketknife. I can just imagine what folks at the FBI are gonna say. I mean, they’re not gonna believe it. I know I felt that way when I heard a lot of the bizarre stories about you and Agent Mulder, but after reading those case files… I don’t know. The very idea of those case reports detailing facts seems ridiculous to me. The thought of all of that shit happening to you and Mulder is unbelievable. But I also know there’s no way in hell I can deny what happened last night, no matter how crazy it is, no matter how much it pisses off Kersh.”

She snorted, looking down at her entwined fingers laying on top of her blanket. “I know what you mean.”

“I know you do,” he replied matter-of-factly, and she turned her head to look at him. “I don’t need to imagine what it would’ve been like to be in your place when you were first sent to work with Agent Mulder. I don’t have to wonder what it was like for you to be assigned to an agent that everyone thought was nuts, wondering if it was going to hurt your career, not knowing exactly why you were the one chosen.”

Scully stared at him, a sense of guilt filling her stomach.

“I’m in a tight spot, you know,” said Doggett, his voice stern as well as his facial expression. “Anger the wrong people upstairs, especially Kersh, and I could get shipped out to the middle of nowhere and spend my days sitting at a desk investigating bank fraud. But at the same time, it’s my duty as an FBI agent to tell the truth. Kersh and the other boys upstairs might not like it, but it’s my responsibility to be honest in my case reports. Even if that includes a human bat mutant who waits around for decades to hunt one particular man he held a grudge against, or extracting a large slug worshipped by a bunch of lunatics out of my partner’s back.”

She nodded, sighing. “I understand.”

“I’m not a spy,” said Doggett, his gaze direct, his eyes not moving from her face as she stared at him. “I’m not a mole. I’m not Kersh’s errand boy. I’m not here to thwart your work and shut down the X-Files. I’m just a Marine, a cop, an FBI agent. And now I’m your partner. I also know that I’m not Fox Mulder. I’ll never be him. I never could, and I don’t want to. But I am still your partner. I know you don’t trust me. I know you don’t think you need me, and you probably don’t want me here.”

She sighed again and looked away from him, guilt sitting in her stomach like a lead weight.

He watched her thoughtfully for a second before continuing. “Did Agent Mulder think you were a spy? When you were sent to work with him?”

Her head turned sharply to look at Doggett, her eyes widening slightly and her brows knitting.

“Did he think you were sent to control him and make sure he stayed out of trouble? Did he think you were sent to throw a monkey wrench into his cases, and tell the big boys upstairs everything that he was doing down there in the basement?” asked Doggett, his gaze never wavering from her face. “How long did it take before he trusted you?”

She swallowed, looking away again. How long had it taken for Mulder to trust her? He had thought she was a spy at first, believed her to be a part of the FBI’s agenda of blocking his work. She remembered laying on the bed in his motel room in Bellefleur seven years ago, pleading with him to trust her. Scully felt tears prick her eyes. Mulder had trusted her when she asked him to, and immediately told her what he believed about Samantha’s disappearance. It hadn't taken very long for trust to grow between them, but she also knew how hurt she would feel whenever Mulder ditched her, kept things from her, and only shared parts of the whole.

“We are going to find Mulder, Agent Scully.” Doggett stood up from the chair. “And I’m going to do whatever I can to help you. That’s why I’m here. I understand that you need to protect yourself, and protect Mulder. I’ve seen what you’re up against, with Kersh and the FBI. I understand. I also know that you are more than capable, and that you can take care of yourself. But you’re not invulnerable. That’s why there are two of us. You shouldn’t have kept me out of this. What if you had died? You’re damn lucky you didn’t.” He started to make his way towards the door, before turning back to face her. “What will it take for you to trust me? What did it take for Mulder to trust you?”

Scully sighed. What could she say?

Doggett looked at her sadly. “I hope the time will come soon when you do trust me, Agent Scully. Because until then, there is little I can do to help you if you purposely keep me out. But I’m gonna be here and I’m gonna help you anyways, whether you want me to or not. That’s what partners are for.”

She watched him open her hospital room door and leave the room without waiting for a reply. She found she could make no real excuses for attempting to go this alone. Even if it had been a simple request by a coroner, a fellow pathologist who needed her expertise in bizarre cases. Scully never would’ve left Mulder out of it. She should’ve had Doggett out there with her. It was clear she could at least trust him that much. He was right to be angry with her. But that’s probably nothing in comparison with how Skinner was going to react to all this. She could picture him now, demanding to know what she was doing out in the desert of Utah, alone and unprotected, when she was…

Oh, God. That thing was in her body. It was inside her body with her baby. Scully frantically rang the call bell attached to her bed rail, and a few minutes later a nurse entered the room. She urgently asked to speak with the doctor who was treating her right away, tears welling up in her eyes and threatening to spill over.

*****

On Monday evening, July 10th, Scully was sitting up in her hospital bed, looking forward to being discharged in the morning. She was watching a movie or maybe it was a television program, but she had no idea what it was or what was happening. She stared at the TV, but her mind was elsewhere. Just over a week ago she’d gotten the phone call from Dr. Parenti’s office with the results of her NT scan and blood work. She’d been relieved to learn that no abnormalities had been found in the blood test results, and the nuchal translucency measurement had only been 1.5 millimeters. There was no fluid building up in the back of her baby’s neck, a sure sign of problems, and everything looked completely normal. Her next blood draw would be done a month from now for her appointment with Dr. Parenti scheduled on August 11th, when her pregnancy would be 18 weeks along.

The doctors in the BYU Medical Center hadn’t found anything wrong with her pregnancy, any damage done to her baby. But what guarantees could they make? How could she be sure of anything anymore? And what promises or guarantees could she make herself for this child growing inside her? For this answer to Mulder’s prayers for a miracle? Scully had been given something precious, a life to care for, a life that came from Mulder. What the hell was she doing by going up against an Alien Bounty Hunter, a human bat monster, and a cult that believed a parasite to be Jesus Christ reborn?

Scully knew she should walk away from the X-Files. She should do something safe, maybe go back to Quantico. She knew they’d take her back in a heartbeat. But if she abandoned the X-Files, who would protect it? Who would find Mulder? Agent Doggett was proving himself to be a good agent, and a decent person. But he didn’t honestly care about the X-Files, and she couldn’t expect him to find Mulder on his own.

She then asked herself a question, one she hadn’t wanted to ask, one she’d buried, one she’d been avoiding. Who was more important to her?

Several years ago, when Emily came into Scully’s life, she’d been ready and willing to walk away from the X-Files and the FBI to take custody of the daughter she hadn’t known existed. Now, she was carrying a new child, one that was wholly her own, and she couldn’t bring herself to walk away from the X-Files. When she’d discovered Emily, she’d just gone through her cancer ordeal and learned of her infertility. She’d been grateful just to be alive, and then heartbroken over losing out on motherhood. She didn’t want to pass up the opportunity, the chance to have a child of her own. But that too ended in heartbreak.

And now here she was, carrying not only her child, but Mulder’s, and she was still walking into dangerous situation after dangerous situation. She desperately needed to find Mulder, but at what cost? When would her luck run out? How many chances would she be given? What was more important to her right now, getting Mulder back or taking care of her child? She didn’t know.

Scully glanced at the clock; it was after 8:00 pm. She knew Doggett had gotten on a plane earlier and would be arriving in Utah soon. He’d stayed for a couple days after she’d first been admitted to the hospital, assisting the Juab County Sheriff’s Department and the District Attorney with the case file, and had then flown back to D.C. for the weekend.

Eventually Scully felt tired enough for sleep. Before her relationship with Mulder changed, it had never been easy for her to fall asleep. Insomnia had been a regular part of her life, lying awake at all hours in frustration either in her own apartment or some stale flea-trap motel room, her mind not knowing how to shut down. But once she got used to sleeping with Mulder next to her, sleep came much easier. And now with her pregnancy, she often had trouble just keeping her eyes open. Her body seemed to know what was necessary, easily shutting her brain down to get the sleep it needed.

Despite her strong and confident exterior she tried to keep up while at work, inside she was full of doubt and confusion. She worried that her wounds would start to show, emotional and physical, and that those at the FBI would decide she wasn’t up to the task. She felt she was now weak, when she’d rarely ever felt that way before. She always held her own, and Mulder had rarely ever treated her as though she couldn’t. She now found herself needing to cover this weakness she felt, and hide it, from everyone at the FBI, from Skinner, from Doggett.

She soon drifted off into a restless, uneasy sleep, her mind still asking the question she hadn’t been able to answer.

_She felt the soft touch of hands over her skin, before feeling the embrace of strong arms wrapping around her, pulling her closer until shoulders, abdomen, and legs were pressed against her. And then there was a face, that beautiful face she knew so well. His face came closer until his nose brushed against hers, and she breathed in the comforting scent of his skin, feeling the familiar roughness of the prickly beard against her face. Hands glided all over her body, caressing her tenderly, moving higher and then going lower. She arched her back, wanting more, as she reached for him, wrapping her arms around his back, running her hands up over his shoulder blades before moving down to his collarbone and resting on his firm chest._

_Her fingers then traced a long scar running down the middle of his chest to his abdomen. Where had this scar come from? Something was wrong, something had changed. His hand caressed her throat, smoothing the skin at the nape of her neck, and then his mouth was on hers, warm and soft and firm. This was the same, though, and her worries began to fade. But then her roaming hands found healed scars at his wrists and his ribcage, the cheeks of his face. Something was terribly wrong. How had this happened? Who had done this to him? She began to cry. He ran his hand over her slightly rounded belly and whispered words of reassurance, but her tears kept falling._

_“Mulder,” she sobbed._

A hand was suddenly shaking her. “Agent Scully.”

She jerked awake in the darkened hospital room, and peered up at the face looking down at her from above. “Mulder?” she whispered, her face wet with tears.

But the worried eyes looking back at her were bright blue, and they weren’t the ones she wanted.

*****

The following morning, Scully dressed in a long-sleeved brown sweater and her navy blue dress pants. She then started packing the rest of her things into her weekender duffel bag that was sitting on the bed. Doggett knocked at the open door and entered the room.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Yeah, I'm ready to go,” she replied, taking her last item of clothing out of the wardrobe and walking back to the bed.

Doggett shoved his hands in his pockets and watched her for a second while she packed her bag. “Grand Jury convenes today. All 47 cult members are sticking together. They're not offering up much defense other than that they're being persecuted for their religious beliefs.”

She arched her eyebrow. “They believe they worshipped Christ. That that thing was the Second Coming.”

An uncomfortable pause ensued. Doggett stared at the bandage taped over the wound in her upper back, just below her neck. She hadn’t made direct eye contact with him since last Wednesday afternoon, when he’d voiced his displeasure at her actions.

Scully took a deep breath, and turned around to face him. “Look, I, uh, I wanted to apologize. I… I left you out of this case, and that was a mistake on my part. It was almost a fatal mistake.”

“It was,” replied Doggett matter-of-factly. “You screwed up.”

She nodded, acknowledging he was right. “And I won't do it again.”

“I appreciate it,” he said.

She picked up her bag, and without hesitation, Doggett took it from Scully’s hands and carried it out of the room. She nodded to herself and followed him out the door. No, he definitely wasn’t Mulder. They weren’t at all alike. But that wasn’t a bad thing. She didn’t need him to be Mulder, and maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t. Doggett never averted his eyes, or used defense mechanisms to deflect from something uncomfortable. He was straightforward and to the point, not backing down, and freely called her on the carpet for her behavior, which she owned up to. There was no real tension between them, there was no tiptoeing around each other, or walking on egg shells.

Their ride from the BYU Medical Center to the Salt Lake airport was a quiet one. People often said that God worked in mysterious ways. Was God responsible for this miracle she’d been given? She still had no idea how this happened, but was an answer to their prayers a logical enough conclusion? It was still something she’d never be able to prove, it was still an answer that was the exact opposite of concrete. And then what of Mulder’s abduction? Was God responsible for that, too? No, she didn’t believe it. Could God really be that cruel? She didn’t want to believe that was possible.

Had God known that with Mulder’s absence, she would need someone to help her? Someone who was sturdy and dependable, like a rock or an anchor. As much as Scully hated to admit it, she could use Agent Doggett around. It was always good to have someone watching her back. In the past month, she’d given him almost nothing but cold looks and sarcastic stares. She’d told him repeatedly that she didn’t need his help. She didn’t want him to help. She thought she’d be better off handling it on her own. She blew him off, and nearly got herself killed in the process.

But he had done nothing other than repeatedly assure her that he only wanted to find Mulder, that he only wanted the truth. She knew Doggett was a good man, despite being a bit bull-headed. If Mulder had never learned to trust her, where would that have left him? If she didn’t learn to accept Doggett’s place in the X-Files, if she didn’t learn to trust him, it could cost her her life. Or worse, the life of her child.

In just over a month, she’d been thrown against a wall and endured a hospital stay in Arizona, she’d run around the Idaho woods, fending off an attack by a human bat, and then ditched her partner, winding up stranded in a creepy town inhabited by a crazy slug-worshipping cult, where she then proceeded to play host to one of the grossest creatures she’d ever seen in her life. Possibly even more disgusting than that Flukeman thing. Scully should know better, and yet she kept putting herself in these situations. And she wasn’t any closer to finding Mulder, or any answers. A huge part of her was missing. She was lost without him, and at times she just didn’t know what to do anymore.

For a long time, she wanted nothing more than to get out of the X-Files, out the FBI, and have a family of her own. But as important as her baby was to her, she knew that Mulder still remained her top priority. This family she was starting would forever be incomplete unless Mulder came back to her. She couldn’t bring herself to leave the X-Files, but she’d do everything else in her power to take care of herself and her child.

She had her answer. Mulder was more important to her, at least right now. He had filled a void within her, in her heart and soul, that she had never realized was there until his presence in her life made it obvious. And without him, there was a large void, dark holes and wide open spaces, impossible to fill. While she put on a tough professional exterior at the office, she shed her tears in the private darkness of her empty apartment as the hardened exterior crumbled around her. Working without Mulder had proved to be a difficult adjustment. Living without Mulder was unbearable.

Scully had to find him. There was no other acceptable fate. But how many more chances could she take? How many more life-threatening situations could she put herself in? Until something unspeakable happened, something that there was no going back from, something that could never be fixed?

She had to make sure that Mulder came back to her alive and safe. She had to make sure that the life growing inside her was safe, that it would survive. She would have to continue to take chances, continue to work. Her own life was precious. The life of her child was precious. And Mulder’s life was precious. Scully could not, and would not, accept any outcome that prevented all of them from being alive and safe and together.


	79. "Never give up on a miracle."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully returns home from Utah to find unexpected guests waiting for her. A suspicious turn of events leaves Doggett in the dark, and leads Scully to question the origin of her pregnancy.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from the episode "Per Manum" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> Sidenote: Just a reminder that I am taking liberties with the events of Season 8, most particularly the timeline because 1013 fucked it up so bad. In one episode they clearly state Mulder went missing in May, then in "Per Manum" they claim Scully is only 14 weeks pregnant sometime after November 23rd. Like, WTF 1013? Do you think your viewers are stupid? Anyhow, seeing as how this story cares nothing for things like TV ratings and sweeps, Scully will have a normal nine-month pregnancy. This means events of Season 8 will be shuffled around a little to both make logical sense to me and stay as true to the canon as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Active Child (feat. Ellie Goulding) - "Silhouette"
> 
> Giving this world everything I've got  
> Running through the woods  
> Running through these shots, trying to survive a day  
> And all I want is that you extend your hand to me
> 
> Sitting outside waiting for the world to come  
> Living my life trying to do what's right  
> In the hope of a better day  
> And all those words you wrote me brought me to my knees  
> But all that I'm saying is
> 
> You, you'll never be alone  
> You, you'll never be alone  
> You, to be alone  
> You, hope you find your way home
> 
> Sitting outside waiting for the world to come  
> Living my life trying to do what's right  
> In the hope of a better day  
> And all I want is that you extend your hand to me
> 
> Show me where it hurts  
> Will you make it okay?  
> Tell me that you'll stay  
> Even when I'm far away  
> My voice will carry through  
> Until the end it's me and you  
> We can make it if we try  
> But all that I'm saying is
> 
> You, you'll never be alone  
> You, you'll never be alone  
> You, to be alone  
> You, hope you find your way home
> 
> You're never gonna be alone  
> You're never gonna be alone

Scully arrived back in D.C. from Utah at just past 5:30 pm on Tuesday, July 11th. The bruising on her spine required some more rest at home, and before departing the Washington Dulles Airport she told Doggett that she wouldn’t be back in the office until Friday. After hailing a taxi, she arrived at her apartment building in Georgetown just over 30 minutes later. As she made her way inside, the closer she got to her apartment door, the more a sinking feeling weighed her down. While unlocking her door, she wondered how she was going to cope with spending the next two days at home with no work or anything to keep her mind busy. She already felt overwhelmed by anxiety.

But as she opened her door, she was immediately greeted by the loud sounds and fragrant smells of someone, or actually several someones, cooking inside her apartment. She quickly turned her head to see the Lone Gunmen standing in her kitchen, talking emphatically to each other.

“I’m telling you, she’s gonna kill us,” said Langly, standing by the dining table with his back to Scully.

“Well, someone’s gotta take care of her,” retorted Frohike, leaning over a large sauté pan on the stove. “Would you want to come home to an empty refrigerator and empty cabinets when you got out of the hospital?”

“She might appreciate the gesture,” Byers said, not sounding confident. “But Langly’s right. She also might kill us.”

Langly crossed his arms and nodded.

Scully, getting over the shock of seeing these unexpected visitors inside her apartment, suppressed a smirk. She then closed the door behind her, the sound causing the Gunmen to turn sharply in her direction.

“What’re you making?” she asked. “I’m starved.”

Frohike smiled, while Langly and Byers continued to stare as if they were deer caught in the headlights.

“Chicken fajitas,” Frohike replied proudly.

She looked over his ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron, grinning. “So how’d you guys know I’d be coming home today?”

“We happened to intercept a transmission from Salt Lake City to FBI headquarters," said Langly. "It contained your name, and so we picked up on it.”

Scully nodded, wondering at the Gunmen’s tenacity. Byers walked over to her and took the duffel bag from her hand, carrying it to her bedroom and setting it on top of her bed. He quickly walked back out, feeling slightly invasive for being in there. Scully walked into her living room, kicked off her shoes, and sat down on the couch. She felt nothing but grateful relief to have come home to an apartment with friendly faces inside. She hated the thought of being alone with her suffocating thoughts.

The Lone Gunmen proved to be welcome company. They sat around her living room, eating their fajitas. Scully made them tell her all about their latest edition of _The Lone Gunman,_ and if they’d heard any news from any MUFON chapters on UFO sightings. She, in turn, told them all about her ordeal in Utah. They gave her shocked and horrified looks in return.

“What were you thinking?” Frohike scolded. “Why would you go out there alone? You put yourself and your baby in danger!”

Byers stared at him. Langly averted his eyes and stared at his entwined fingers on his lap while he sat cross-legged on the floor.

Scully sighed. She’d gotten the same chastisement over the phone from both her mother and Jennifer. “I know. I guess… I’ve been trying too hard. To think like Mulder, pursue cases the way he would, to look for extreme possibilities. But you’re right, it was foolish to go out there without someone to watch my back.”

“Well, you definitely pulled a ‘Mulder,’” said Byers. “Going off alone, nearly dying, and needing your partner to swoop in and save the day is definitely something he would’ve done.”

She slowly nodded her head, licking her lips and raising her eyebrows. There was no denying what he had just said.

The four of them spent the evening in Scully’s living room. The Gunmen thoroughly enjoyed picking apart the new and shortly-lived reboot of the _Fantasy Island_ TV series that was airing on the Sci-Fi Channel. Scully contentedly listened to their chatter, without really paying attention to much of what was happening on the show, happy to not be spending the evening alone. During the fourth, and last, episode the Sci-Fi Channel was airing that night, Frohike got up from his seat in one of the living room chairs and walked back into the kitchen. Byers and Langly continued to debate whatever was happening in the episode entitled “Dying to Dance,” and Scully quietly left the couch to follow Frohike into the kitchen.

She smiled as she saw he had donned his apron again, and he was now standing over her kitchen sink, washing the large sauté pan. Scully walked over to stand next to Frohike, taking a clean dish towel, and began to dry the washed silverware.

Frohike glanced at her, and spoke in a low voice. “So… how are you holding up?”

“I’m fine,” Scully said, not meeting his gaze.

“Hmm,” he replied skeptically, and then sighed. “You know… when Mulder gets back, and finds out all that’s happened to you while he was gone, he’s gonna kick our asses.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “It’s not your fault.”

He looked over at her. “We’re supposed to make sure you’re looked after. If something were to happen to you while Mulder’s away, he’d never forgive us.”

“Yes, he would,” Scully replied kindly. “There’d be nothing to forgive, anyways. He would understand that not everything is within your control.”

“Well…,” Frohike sighed, handing her a wet dinner plate. “I’d never forgive myself.”

She looked at the sad expression on his face, taking the clean plate from him, before glancing back down to his apron and smirking. Frohike followed her gaze, looking down, and chuckled. Scully then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

His eyes widened and he felt his face reddening. “What was that for?”

Scully shrugged her shoulders slightly, sighing. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

Frohike smiled nervously, his face still red, and turned back to washing the rest of the dishes.

Not long after this, at 11:00 pm, _Fantasy Island_ was going off the air and the Lone Gunmen gathered at Scully’s front door. They said their goodbyes and she thanked them again for coming over. Frohike and Langly walked out the door, but Byers lingered in the doorway. He turned back to look at Scully, an earnest expression on his face.

“Please take better care of yourself,” Byers said quietly. “We can’t lose you, too.”

She felt a lump grow in her throat, and tears begin to prick her eyes. Scully could only nod and whisper, “I will.”

Byers nodded, and then crossed the threshold into the outside hallway, closing the door behind him. Scully stared at the door, her hand moving to caress her slightly rounded abdomen, tears welling up and brimming over.

*****

On Thursday afternoon, July 13th, Doggett was sitting at his desk in the corner of the basement office, watching this Duffy Haskell stare at Agent Scully with what seemed like awe. He thought Haskell probably hadn’t been expecting her to be so pretty. Doggett then watched as Haskell proceeded to tell Scully his story about his murdered wife giving birth to an alien baby. She then slowly sat down in the chair at Mulder’s desk. Well, he supposed it was her desk now. Haskell sat down in the chair across from her.

“Kath was a multiple abductee,” said Haskell. “The aliens did these procedures on her. Tests and whatnot. One procedure would give her cancer while another one would cure her. Stuff like that. For years, you see. And then, this year, they came right into our bedroom and implanted an alien embryo in Kath.”

Doggett thought Agent Scully looked rather uncomfortable listening to this, which was surprising. In fact, he had been surprised just to see her there at all when she had told him she wasn’t going to come back to work until Friday. He guessed she probably didn’t know what to do with herself when she wasn’t working. He knew that a lot of agents were like that.

“I don't suppose that you have any, uh, medical proof of this,” she replied to Mr. Haskell.

He handed her an envelope labeled ‘Zeus Genetics Germantown, Maryland.’ “I have an ultrasound here. Anyone with a trained eye can see that is a bizarre pregnancy. Especially for a woman who was never supposed to be able to conceive. I doubt you'd ever get the doctors to cop to any of that.”

“What doctors?” asked Scully.

“We've been through three sets,” Haskell replied. “They're all in on it. They're all in cahoots.”

She paused slightly. “So you're… saying that it was the doctors that killed your wife?”

Haskell nodded. “And stole the alien baby. That ultrasound is proof.”

Doggett watched Scully turn to give him a look as though he was the one who murdered Haskell’s wife.

“Do you, uh… have all the information and numbers and a way that we can reach Mr. Haskell?” she asked.

Doggett nodded and held up his notepad.

She turned back to Mr. Haskell, getting up from the desk. “Uh, we'll be in touch.”

“Thank you. Thank you very much.” Duffy Haskell then walked out of the office.

Scully turned to Doggett. She was clearly not pleased, but he had no idea why. “Thank you, Agent Doggett. I'm sure the rest of my afternoon can't possibly be so amusing.”

He didn’t know what to make of this reaction. Just when Doggett thought he was finally getting the puzzle that was Agent Scully figured out, she’d go and scatter the pieces. He only listened to Duffy Haskell’s story because everything that had happened to the man’s wife was so close to what had happened to Scully herself. Doggett was naturally inclined to dismiss Haskell’s claims as ridiculous, but the similarities to the case reports on Agent Scully’s abduction and her cancer were too obvious to ignore. She was always telling him to keep an open mind, and he couldn’t figure out why she was reacting this way.

“I thought you'd find it interesting, actually.”

“Interesting?” Scully replied, her tone ripe with sarcasm. “As in preposterous and outrageous?”

Doggett thought she had to notice how surprised he looked. “Well, unless I'm mistaken, you already knew that man's story.” He paused briefly. “The abduction, the tests, a bout with cancer, then a remission.”

She gave him a look, pacing closer to his desk. “What exactly are you getting at?”

“That's your story, Agent Scully,” Doggett explained. “I'd say right down to a ‘t.’”

She just stared at him, silent and hard.

“I mean, except for the pregnancy. It's all right there in the X-Files.”

He watched Scully silently look over at the file cabinets, and then looked back at him. She seemed angry, but quietly controlled. Doggett had no clue why she was reacting like she was surprised he knew about this. She knew he’d read all the case files in those cabinets.

She fixed her gaze on him, and he suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. “Well, I appreciate your thoroughness, Agent Doggett, and your familiarity with the X-Files cases in those cabinets, but my personal files are my personal files. Okay?”

Doggett closed his eyes, rubbing his fingers between his eyebrows. He felt a headache coming on. He’d somehow crossed a line, stepped over a boundary he hadn’t even known was there. He looked up to meet her hardened stare. “Sure, of course.”

He didn’t know what else to say. He’d told her that he’d read every single X-file in those cabinets. She’d even referenced his recent knowledge of the files to assist her with locating those glycoproteins for that case in Utah. Did she really still not trust him?

Scully left the office with the ultrasound. Doggett sighed, exasperated, and tossed the pencil he was holding onto the desk. What the hell did he do that was so wrong? He felt his headache starting to get worse and he decided he was going to head up to the cafeteria to get some coffee. He walked out of the office, closing the door behind him, and headed to the elevator.

Doggett pushed the ‘UP’ button, and the doors opened to reveal his partner standing there. “Agent Scully? What are you doing?”

She was holding Haskell’s ultrasound in front of her, looking like she was miles away. “Um, I don't know. I guess I just forgot to push the button.”

Yeah, sure. He bet that happened all the time. He watched her reach over to the panel and push a button. The doors started to close, but Doggett reached out and held them open.

“I wasn't exactly clear on what you wanted to do about this guy Haskell,” he said. “About his wife's story.”

“There's nothing to do,” Scully replied.

Doggett nodded, glancing down at the envelope in her hand, and allowed the doors to close. He could wait a minute or two before he went up to the cafeteria. He and Agent Scully then spent the afternoon in Skinner’s office, discussing their report on that wacko religious cult out there in Utah as well as updates Skinner had received from the Juab County District Attorney on the prosecution of the case. Scully left the office just before 5:00 pm, but Doggett remained behind for a little while. He’d decided to run a background check on this Duffy Haskell before dropping it as a pending case.

The following morning, Doggett watched Agent Scully enter the basement office apparently in no better mood than when she had left it the day before. After finishing up his phone conversation, jotting down the phone number for Scully to call back, he hung up the phone and looked at her.

“Agent Scully, I just got a call from a Dr. Parenti's office. About an ultrasound you left there this morning.” Doggett realized that his tone sounded slightly accusatory.

“Dr. Parenti is my doctor,” she replied, sounding a bit defensive. She then headed to her desk.

He was sure he was giving off vibes of disbelief. Did she really expect him to believe that? She went and took Haskell’s case, without telling him about it. She was keeping him out, again. And after everything they’d just been through. “Come on, Agent Scully.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You don't believe me?”

“That ultrasound is the one Duffy Haskell left here yesterday,” replied Doggett. He was sure she was on this case, and keeping it from him. “Dr. Parenti is one of the doctors he consulted with during the course of that pregnancy.”

“Excuse me, Agent Doggett, but are you investigating me?”

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Everyone had said how paranoid Mulder and Scully were, but this was ridiculous. “No, I was doing a background check on Mr. and Mrs. Haskell before I dropped the case, like you asked me to do.”

“No, I didn't ask you to drop the case,” she shot back. “I said there was nothing to do.”

He watched Scully open her desk drawer and then close it without taking anything out of it.

“Well, if there's nothing to do, then why are you investigating?” Doggett asked.

“You are jumping to conclusions,” she replied heatedly, opening and closing more desk drawers.

Doggett couldn’t take this. He felt he’d been very patient with her over the past month or so, but his frustration was now reaching a boiling point. He’d been nothing but open and honest with her since becoming her partner, but he felt that hadn’t really been the case as far as she was concerned. “No, I'm just trying to do my job, only it gets hard to do if the person you're working with is keeping secrets and telling lies.”

Scully’s voice softened a bit, but it was still hard as iron. “I am not investigating these people, Agent Doggett. Parenti is my doctor. Is that so strange? Is there something about him I don't know?”

“No,” he replied. He hadn’t gotten so far as investigating the doctors. “But Duffy Haskell is a piece of work. I'll tell you that much.”

Later that morning, Doggett and Scully ended up in AD Skinner’s office with Duffy Haskell, confronting him on the threatening letters he’d written to one Dr. Lev, whom he claimed murdered his wife, and also to Agent Mulder. Haskell promptly got heated and defensive. Before he left the office, he told them that there were other women out there just like his dead wife. Doggett watched him look directly at Agent Scully while he said this, and then Haskell left. Doggett looked at Scully, and her expression was unreadable. But it wasn’t as though that was anything new.

Doggett spent a quiet Friday evening at his house in Falls Church, Virginia. He watched Charlie Rose, which featured Bob Costas talking about his career and his book fair ball as well as some Hollywood director talking about the new _X-Men_ film. Mutants. How fitting for Doggett’s current line of work. He wondered if Agent Scully liked going to the movies. She could probably use a little fun, but he suspected that spending any more time with him than she absolutely had to wouldn’t exactly be her idea of fun. He then wondered if they’d ever be friends, or at least close to it. He’d been pretty good buddies with all his previous partners, getting together on the weekends for bowling or BBQs, sometimes going to the movie theater or out to a bar. But he sensed that it would be quite difficult to get past Agent Scully’s defenses. He couldn’t imagine her ever inviting him over to her place for pizza and beer, or accepting a similar invitation from him. Doggett then reminded himself that this was only temporary, and he’d be out of the X-Files as soon as Agent Mulder came back, so what was the point in trying to make friends? But he still felt somewhat disappointed.

Later, the jarring sound of the ringing telephone on Doggett’s bedside table awoke him, and as he reached for the cordless phone and looked at the clock he noticed it was after 1:00 am. This better damn well be important.

“Hello?” he answered groggily.

“Agent Doggett, it’s AD Skinner.”

He sat up in bed, reaching over to turn on the lamp. “Yes, sir?”

Skinner cleared his throat. “Uh, I need for you to meet me and Agent Scully in downtown DC. Um… at Clovis & Charley’s.”

Driving into the city to a 24-hour diner at this time of night was something wholly unexpected. “What’s this about, sir?”

“I’ll explain when you get here,” Skinner replied, and then promptly hung up the phone.

He sighed, hanging up the cordless phone. What was going on? He had no idea, but maybe now he could get some damn answers. He wondered if Agent Scully had found anything more on Duffy Haskell or that ultrasound. After getting dressed and hopping into his 1995 Ford F150 pickup truck, he departed Falls Church and drove into D.C., parking his truck outside the diner in front of Scully’s small four-door sedan. He got out of the truck and entered the diner. Scully and AD Skinner were seated at a table. Doggett spoke to the waitress behind the counter and asked for a black coffee on his way to join his partner and their boss.

“Thanks for getting down here,” Skinner said, after Doggett sat down at the table.

“Yeah,” he replied. It’s not like AD Skinner really gave him a choice, but he would’ve come anyways. He looked across the table at Agent Scully, and other than a slight defensive posture, her face was unreadable. He thought she’d never been more closed off in all the time he’d known her than at this moment. Something was going on. He now suspected this had nothing at all to do with Haskell or his wife's case, and wondered if it had something to do with Mulder. “You goin’ somewhere?”

“Yes,” replied Scully.

He stared at her. She offered no further explanation. What the hell is this? “Am I missin’ somethin’ here?”

Skinner replied so Scully wouldn’t have to. “Agent Doggett, as Assistant Director in charge of your assignment, Agent Scully has come to me and asked to take a leave of absence.”

“Hey, great.” Doggett realized that came out way more sarcastic than he’d really intended, but oh well. Was waking him up in the middle of the night required for this simple conversation? There was definitely something else going on here. “Can I ask why?”

“No,” Scully said.

Why the hell did he even bother trying to get a straight answer out of her? Doggett then realized how he was going to be affected by this, and turned to look at Skinner. “So I'm the X-Files now? Just me?”

Skinner sighed. “Agent Scully isn't quitting the FBI. She's just going away.”

He looked over at Scully, who avoided his eyes. So that was it? 'Just going away?' How could he accept that as an explanation? Why wouldn’t she be honest with him about what was going on? Hadn’t he proved to her by now that he only wanted to help her? That he was there to watch her back? That she could trust him? But she had fully closed herself off to him. She wouldn’t even make eye contact. He felt anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He then looked at Skinner.

“Thanks for getting me out of bed to give me the news,” Doggett said bitterly. He stood up from the table, the coffee he’d ordered earlier long forgotten, and stared at Agent Scully. “Drop me a line if you get a chance.”

Angrily, Doggett then left the diner. He hoped she had heard the hint of worry in his voice underneath the bitterness. Once outside, and getting ready to get into his truck, the sound of Scully’s voice stopped him.

“Agent Doggett?”

He closed the door of the truck and turned back to her.

“I want you to understand,” she said.

Ha, what a joke. It was impossible to understand this woman. “What is it you want me to understand, Agent Scully? The secrets or the lies?”

“I told you…,” she replied. “I'm not doing anything behind your back.”

“You're supposed to _watch_ my back, Agent Scully.” God knows he’d watched her back enough times so far. He wished she wouldn’t continue to leave him out. Where was she running off to this time? Was it Mulder? Had there been some sign of him? Why didn’t Scully trust him to help her?

“If I was putting you at risk in any way you can be sure that I wouldn't let you down,” said Scully. “I hope you know that.”

He could hear the sincerity in her voice. But he still felt frustrated, angry, sad. He had no idea what the hell he did or didn’t know anymore. “I only know what you tell me.”

Scully sighed quietly and looked like she might say more, but then she turned to look at Skinner, who had come up behind her protectively. “I gotta go.” She then got into her car, and Doggett noticed a woman in the passenger seat. Skinner joined him beside his truck as she drove away.

“Who's that?” he asked. “In Agent Scully's car?”

“That I don't know, Agent Doggett,” replied Skinner.

He wondered if Skinner was lying, and getting into his truck, he drove away heading in the direction back toward Falls Church.

Doggett spent most of his Saturday morning in the X-Files office. The more he thought about Scully’s sudden departure, and that mystery woman in the front seat of her car, the more Doggett believed this had nothing to do with Agent Mulder. That Duffy Haskell had claimed there were other women out there in danger, just like his wife had been. As the day went on, the more anxious Doggett felt, and after an unsettling conversation with his friend Special Agent Joe Farah, he’d learned that Haskell had died in 1970 and he’d been buried with a USMC honor guard ceremony. Haskell had been a Marine. Who had apparently died 30 years ago. Then how could he have been standing in their office two days ago? He could be a real snake in the grass.

He immediately got on the phone and called his old Marine buddy, Knowle Rohrer, who now worked at the Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia. All morning, Doggett waited and waited for Knowle to return his calls, but to no avail. After getting it out of Knowle’s secretary that he had just left to go to a meeting on Capitol Hill, Doggett drove his truck and parked outside a D.C. office building, hiding in wait.

Seeing Kowle get out of a chauffeured car, Doggett ran up behind him. He noticed that Knowle didn’t look too pleased to see him there. But he was worried, and Doggett didn’t even attempt to hide that fact. He needed to know if the guy who’d come down to their X-Files office wanting to spin that story for Agent Scully was the same guy who had supposedly died in 1970. Knowle suggested Haskell could be intelligence.

“Doing what?” asked Doggett. “Working for who?”

“What did he say he wanted?” Knowle replied.

“He wanted us to investigate the murder of his wife. He claims she was an alien abductee.”

Knowle immediately stopped walking and looked at Doggett, smiling indulgently.

Doggett felt a bit embarrassed. “Look… I don't buy this crap, but if the guy's CIA he wasn't just in my office killing time.”

“Why go to the trouble at all?” Knowle asked.

“All I can think is that there must be documentation in our files of a conspiracy to hide the truth.”

Knowle smirked. “About what, extraterrestrials?”

Doggett sighed. “Look, it's not my work. It's the woman I work with… an Agent Scully.”

“John, there's no conspiracy. You and I go back a long time. You know I'll do anything I can for you. Just give me a little more time to find out who this Haskell guy is, okay? By the end of the day.”

Knowle clasped him on the shoulder, and then walked away. Doggett wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. Jesus, was paranoia contagious? He hadn’t even been working on the X-Files for two months, and he’d never doubted Knowle before.

Later that afternoon, Knowle called Doggett at the FBI to inform him that Duffy Haskell had been given a military funeral after joining the intelligence community. But he wasn’t CIA. He was DIA. Doggett balked when he heard that. Haskell worked for the Defense Department? But he was also president of the Ohio MUFON? Something wasn’t right about that. Knowle also informed him that Haskell was indeed married to a woman named Kathleen Haskell (nee Follette) who died after giving birth about six months ago. As it turned out, he’d also been married to other women in other states over the course of the last 10 years, who had all died after childbirth, the infant dying as well. All the women had been treated by Dr. Lev or Dr. Parenti. But what Knowle didn’t know, was why Haskell would want to contact the FBI. Doggett now suspected that whatever was involved with Kathleen Haskell’s death, despite how angry and upset he’d appeared, Duffy Haskell had something to do with it. Doggett also felt he had enough information to believe Agent Scully might damn well be in serious trouble.

*****

Scully stood next to the bed of Ms. Hendershot at the Walden-Freedman Army Research Hospital in Bethesda, Maryland, while a nurse tended to her.

“How long will this take?” Ms. Hendershot asked nervously.

“Probably somewhere between four and 12 hours,” Scully replied.

Her brows furrowed, an anxious expression on her face. “All my life I wanted children. But I'm afraid of what's growing in me. That it even happened.”

Scully’s stomach knotted even more. “You mean getting pregnant?”

“I had a boyfriend. I thought it was a miracle at first. But when I looked at the dates, there was no way. Now I'm sure it was an abduction. I'm sure of what's inside of me.”

Scully looked down at her, worried. When she had calculated back to her own conception date, it was more than likely a couple days after Mulder returned home from England. Sure, she’d been on her period that night. But she knew sperm could live in healthy cervical fluid for up to three days, sometimes even longer. Scully didn’t question the parentage of her baby, or the likely date of conception. It was entirely possible, had she been any other woman with a normal reproductive system. The question was, how did a woman with no ova suddenly ovulate? How the hell did this happen?

“Agent Scully… we're all set for you,” Dr. Miryum said after entering the hospital room.

She sighed, and followed Dr. Miryum out the door to an exam room. Scully then lay down on a bed, lifting her shirt to expose her stomach as the doctor began preparing to start the ultrasound. A memory she’d been desperately trying to suppress, knowing full well she would never succeed in doing so, started to play in her mind…

October 1, 1999

Mulder reached for her and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as she cried into his shoulder. He only held her tighter. She would never be able to have a child. Her and Mulder would never be parents together. Not by IVF, or any other way. She’d wondered if the process had seemed clinical, professional, business-like to him. They’d never discussed what would happen if the procedure succeeded, they’d never come to any kind of understanding about what this would mean for them. And not only did she feel heartbroken over the failed results, she felt guilty and foolish for dragging Mulder into this. It was so unfair. She’d been living with the fact of her infertility for two years, and despite how hard it was to believe sometimes that she would never be a mother, she’d done her best to accept this fate. But the idea of Mulder never being a father was too painful to even think about. And she’d dragged him into this, giving him the anguish of disappointment and crushed hopes that could’ve been avoided. Why had she allowed this to happen?

He gave her words of hope, told her not to give up on a miracle. She pressed her face against his, before moving to kiss him near his mouth, and then his beautiful neck. Mulder wrapped his arms around her again, and held her tightly against him. His words circled in her head, but her heart was heavy with despair, more than it had ever been. There was no hope for her. Or for them.

She asked him to stay with her. Mulder reassured her that he would stay as long as she needed him to. And he did.

…Dr. Miryum inserted an old tape into the VCR and pressed the record button. “You ready for this?”

“Yeah,” replied Scully.

“At your stage, the fetus is still only about eight centimeters, but we should still be able to get a pretty clear picture of its development.” She moved the wand over Scully’s belly. On the monitor, they could see an image of the fetus. “There it is. You see it?”

“Yeah,” Scully breathed.

Dr. Miryum smiled. “I see two legs, two arms and hands. I see what would appear to be a healthy baby at 14 weeks.”

Scully started to feel a wave of relief wash over her. “Are you sure?”

“The picture doesn't lie, Agent Scully. Hard to tell, but… would you like to know the sex?”

“I just want to be certain that it's okay,” Scully replied.

“We could do an amnio,” said Dr. Miryum. “It's a little early, but we could do it if that's what you want.”

She nodded. The doctor wiped the ultrasound gel from her abdomen, and then left the exam room to get things ready for the amniocentesis. The memory of that night was so palpable at this moment, no matter how much she tried to push it away. Scully could feel his arms around her and hear his voice, clear as day. She laid there, her heart sinking, depression taking hold, as she thought of the nothingness that she would be going home to later, the emptiness that her life had become without Mulder. She missed everything about him, even the annoying things; like his stubborn and controlling behavior, his sloppiness and the way he’d always load or unload her dishwasher completely wrong. But right now she wished he was next to her in this hospital room, that they were dealing with this together. She missed feeling the protectiveness of his arms around her, the tenderness of his gaze, his words of hope and reassurance. She wanted him there, needed him there. She felt cold, and alone.

*****

Doggett sped through Maryland in an FBI fleet sedan, driving way too fast, towards the Army Research Hospital. Flashing blue lights off the road grabbed his attention, and he turned left to head that way. As he approached, one of the military vehicles drove off in the opposite direction. He debated whether or not to chase after it, until he came upon an unmarked SUV parked alongside the road, without its lights on.

He slammed on the brakes, kicking up gravel and a cloud of dust. He saw movement around the SUV. A man in a uniform. A bright red flash of hair. Scully. Doggett jumped out of the car and ran around to the other side of the SUV, stopping dead in his tracks as he watched his unconscious partner being lowered into the back seat by Knowle Rohrer, her legs still outside the vehicle.

“What the hell did you do to her?!”

Doggett shoved Knowle out of the way, not an easy task as the guy was massive. He leaned over Scully, checking her pulse, happy to find it was fast and strong. But she looked extremely pale.

“What’s wrong with her? What happened?”

“She needed to be sedated,” Knowle replied. “It was for her own safety. She was very agitated. Now, you can get in and ride with us to the hospital, or you can get the hell out of our way.”

Something was wrong. None of this sat right with Doggett, but he decided he could use the ride to the hospital to ask his questions. He then gently laid Scully down in the back seat, before walking around to the other side and getting in next to her, putting her head in his lap, and holding her against him. He then had strong feeling of déjà vu.

Knowle and one of his military men jumped into the front seat, and they headed for Holy Cross Hospital in Silver Spring, Maryland, only a 10 minute drive away.

Doggett wanted some answers. “Knowle, what the hell happened?”

He turned around from the passenger seat, looking into the back. “The woman Agent Scully came here with, Mary Hendershot, gave birth to a baby boy in the back of one of our vehicles. Agent Scully was distressed about it, and she needed to be given a sedative. She shouldn’t have even been on her feet. It wasn’t safe.”

This confused him. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with her?”

“Agent Scully had a procedure done at Walden-Freedman,” Knowle explained. “A very sensitive procedure. She could’ve harmed herself, or her baby.”

Doggett stared down at his partner, watching her chest gently rise and fall with steady breaths, and concentrated on her breathing. A strand of red hair had fallen into her face, and he gently brought his finger to her forehead, sweeping it back. Suddenly a lot of things started falling into place, pieces of her puzzle she’d tried to scatter and hide from him. She’d said Dr. Parenti was her doctor, but he hadn’t bought that excuse because Parenti was an infertility specialist. He’d been so fucking blind. And there he was, telling her how similar Duffy Haskell’s wife’s case had been to hers. God knows how much that had freaked her out. Yeah. Doggett felt like a moron. But why hadn’t she just told him about her pregnancy? Maybe paranoia _was_ contagious.

The SUV pulled up outside the hospital entrance doors, the driver and Knowle immediately exiting the vehicle and grabbing a gurney from inside. Something still wasn’t sitting right with Doggett. He still didn’t exactly know what had happened, what was going on, but Knowle assured him that they’d done everything in their power to get Scully out of there safely. Doggett then watched Knowle hop back in his vehicle and drive away.

After arriving inside the Holy Cross Hospital emergency room, he got on the phone with Skinner, who was back at Walden-Freedman speaking with the hospital staff who had treated Mary Hendershot and Agent Scully. Skinner then relayed the information he’d received from Dr. Miryum and other physicians.

“What about this procedure Agent Scully had done?” Doggett asked.

Skinner briefly paused, clearing his throat.

He sighed. “I know she’s pregnant, sir.”

“She had an amniocentesis,” Skinner said. “I guess that’s when…”

“I know what it is,” Doggett replied, cutting him off. Memories began to stir, and he quickly suppressed them. “Tell those doctors you want Agent Scully’s amniotic fluid sent to Quantico.”

Skinner sighed. “Agent Doggett, the doctors here are going to send the test sample to a specialty genetics lab.”

“Sir, with all due respect, I believe there are geneticists at Quantico,” he replied. “And I, for one, don’t want to trust those doctors. Do you honestly think Agent Scully would even believe any results she gets from them?”

“All right, Agent Doggett. I’ll have them send it on to Quantico.”

He hung up the phone, and then walked into Scully’s hospital room, where he spoke with the emergency room physician, a young doctor in his 30’s, who proceeded to tell Doggett that she was doing well and they would continue to monitor her for the next few hours. If everything still checked out fine at the end of that time period, she’d be free to go home. Doggett then learned that Mary Hendershot had also been admitted to Holy Cross, and he made his way up to the maternity ward to check on her. After seeing for himself that she was doing all right as well as her son, he returned to Scully’s room and sat down in the chair by her bed.

Thirty minutes later, Skinner opened the hospital room door and motioned for Doggett to step outside the room. He quietly got up from the chair, and walked out to the hall.

“Is the baby all right?” Skinner asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, the baby’s okay,” replied Doggett, noticing that Skinner seemed relieved that he wasn’t angry. “Agent Scully’s okay. Ms. Hendershot and her baby are doing okay, too.”

“Good,” Skinner said, nodding.

Doggett turned to stare at Scully’s hospital room door. “Who’s the father?”

Skinner sighed, and slightly shrugged his shoulders. “That’s something you’ll have to ask her.”

He then turned to watch Skinner walk away down the hall, before returning to his seat next to Scully’s bedside. Was he going to ask her that question? Hell no. He already knew the answer, anyways. She was pregnant. With Mulder’s baby. Knowing this made things so much easier to understand, and at the same time made things so much more challenging. He could understand just how desperate she was to get Mulder back, and her reckless behavior because of this. Doggett had already figured they were lovers. It wasn’t a hard conclusion to draw. He’d heard the rumors, of course, but a cupful of water in his face and the sight of Scully asleep on the man’s bed pretty much erased any lingering doubt.

Other little things also started to make a lot more sense. Like Skinner’s dogged over-protectiveness of Agent Scully. Her lengthy hospital stays. Phone calls from doctor’s offices and labs about appointments and blood work. The fact that she’d run off to the bathroom at least 10 times during an eight-hour day. The vomiting. He thought she just had a sensitive stomach, and motion sickness from traveling on planes and in the car severely bothered her. Nope. She was just pregnant.

And this was the challenging part. Doggett wasn’t just searching for a missing FBI agent. He wasn’t just searching for Agent Scully’s partner. The man he was seeking to find was the father of her baby. He suddenly felt guilty for some of the things he’d said about Mulder to Scully over the past six weeks, and especially about implying that the father of her child had carried on with a bunch of women at the FBI, servicing the secretarial pool. And then he’d insinuated that Mulder took off on his own volition just to prove his ‘truth,’ essentially abandoning her. He felt like an asshole. He’d deserved much more than water thrown at him. No wonder she refused to tell him anything, refused to open up and trust him.

Doggett sat in the chair beside Scully’s bed, waiting for her to come around and thinking about the secret she’d tried so hard to keep from him. A secret that could’ve cost Agent Scully her life, if he was to believe Knowle Rohrer. Doggett wished she would trust him. What else could he do or say to prove himself worthy of her trust?

*****

Scully groggily woke up in a hospital room. A heart monitor beeping could be heard. She turned to see her FBI partner sitting next to her, resting in a chair.

“Agent Doggett?” she asked, confused.

“Agent Scully.” He turned his attention to her.

She still felt confused, and afraid. “What are you doing here? What am I doing back in this place?”

Doggett thought she obviously believed she was back at the military hospital. She shouldn’t be moving around so much. He stood up and gently pushed her shoulder back on her pillow. “Lie down, Agent Scully. You're not taking any more chances.”

“What happened to me?” She was trying to think of the last thing she could remember.

“You're okay.” He was relieved she seemed to relax a bit. “You're fine. And your baby's fine. But you're very, very lucky.”

Scully sighed in relief. Wait, did Doggett know about her pregnancy? Her eyes widened in surprise. She suddenly remembered what had led her here. “What about Ms. Hendershot?”

He gave her a small smile. “She's resting fine, too.”

“What about her baby?” she asked.

“Six pounds, eight ounces,” Doggett reported. “A boy.”

Scully lay back down on her pillow again. She felt horrified for Ms. Hendershot. “Oh, my God. They switched it. Agent Doggett, they switched it on her.”

He decided to add that to the more ridiculous things he’d ever heard her say. “It's over, Agent Scully.”

She shook her head, and sat up once more on her elbows. “No, it's not. We can prove this.”

“We can't prove anything,” Doggett replied firmly. He’d spent hours on his cell phone trying to come up with any answers, any proof that would corroborate what Scully might’ve believed was going on here, with alien abductions and stolen alien babies. He’d found none, of course. He also knew there weren’t any reports of missing newborns in the D.C. area. So how could Ms. Hendershot’s alleged alien baby been switched for a human one? “They say you overreacted to everything. They say you overreacted to fears you had about Ms. Hendershot's pregnancy, to the fears you had about your own.”

“They showed me a tape of another woman's womb,” Scully insisted.

“They say it's your baby just taped onto an old cassette,” explained Doggett, giving her the information he’d gotten from Skinner.

She knew there was some kind of conspiracy going on, no matter how well they tried to hide it. “Well, then who were those men?”

Doggett sighed. “They acted off information that came from me.” He could see a momentary betrayal of emotion in her eyes, before she quickly masked it. She felt hurt at this. He had to assure her that he’d never deceive her, or betray her trust. “They say they saved your life. How can I question that, standin’ there?”

“It was all planned. You know that. From the moment that man walked into our office. We were used to get at Ms. Hendershot's baby. And now we are being used to cover it up.” She laid back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, fear clutching at her heart and knotting her stomach. “Oh, my God.”

“At least you're okay,” Doggett said. He suddenly realized just how crushed he’d feel, personally, if anything had happened to her. He wanted to protect her, and her child. But she might be right. This might’ve been an elaborate scheme. They might’ve been used. But whatever information about Haskell or those doctors, or even the Defense Department, that Knowle’s intervention might’ve covered up was far less important to Doggett than her safety.

He stared at her, waiting for her to make eye contact, and then did his best to keep the hurt out of his voice, but didn’t really succeed. “Why didn't you tell me?”

Scully felt a lump grow in her throat, and her eyes filled with tears. “I was afraid. Afraid that they'd use it against me to take me off the X-Files so that I couldn't find Mulder.” Her voice broke as she spoke his name, and Doggett felt an indescribable sinking feeling.

He gently grasped her shoulder, relieved that she didn’t pull away. When was she going to believe that he had nothing to do with whatever or whoever she believed was out to get her and Mulder? “I told you I'd help you. I said we'd find him.”

She looked at his earnest, pleading expression, maybe seeing him for the first time. Scully saw his sincerity, and knew he was speaking the truth. Whatever he may be lacking as far as what was required to work the X-Files, Agent Doggett was a decent man and a good agent. He was someone she could trust.

Doggett thought a veil seemed to lift from her eyes, a wall that she’d erected between them had come down. He remembered being in the hospital with her before, in Arizona. Her look had been hard and accusatory. He remembered being in the hospital with her in Utah. She’d averted her eyes, and shut him out. The look she was giving him now was open, and he thought she finally believed him. He then quietly left the room, knowing she needed to rest.

Scully watched Doggett leave, and laid back on her hospital bed, holding onto her pillow, her hand drifting down to her belly. Memories came forward in her mind, and Mulder’s words of hope. How had she gotten herself in this predicament? What could’ve caused this to happen? The first IVF attempt failed, leading to a completely unexpected transition to their partnership. The next IVF procedure also failed. She’d wanted to give up. It wasn’t fair to keep putting Mulder through such a painful process, and she questioned whether she even could go through it again. But they’d agreed to a third try…

March 7, 2000

Mulder wanted to say more, but he left it alone. Tomorrow they’d be going to Dr. Parenti’s office to start another IVF cycle. Scully had been rather quiet all day, and he knew she was anxious. He tried to get her to talk about it, but she didn’t want to and squashed any attempts he made to discuss it. This final attempt at a discussion, one he’d made while standing in her kitchen after they’d arrived from work, was rather harshly rebuffed by her.

“Are you tired, Scully?” he asked, watching her close the dishwasher and press the ‘start’ button.

“Kind of.”

“Are you hungry?”

“A little,” she replied.

She wasn’t even looking at him. He sighed. “Scully…”

He watched her turn around to face him. “I’m fine, Mulder.”

“You’re fine, huh? Well, I’m not buying it.”

“Maybe you should just go home,” she said, crossing her arms defensively. She didn’t want to talk about IVF. She was a bundle of nerves. She knew what the chances were for success. Slim to none. Why talk about it and get her hopes up? That’s all he would do with his talk of miracles and believing. Why did they have to talk about it at all? There was nothing to talk about until the process was over and they learned the results.

He stared at her. “You want me to leave?” As soon as he said the words, he saw her eyes widen and he thought he saw her shiver.

Scully suddenly felt awkward, and stared at her shoes. She knew that her fears were his fears. That if the IVF failed, her loss would be his loss. She didn’t want to think about what it would mean if the IVF worked. “No,” she replied in a small voice. “Stay… please?”

Mulder slowly crossed the kitchen and Scully walked into his embrace. He wanted to tell her that they might have a child someday, that this IVF cycle could be the one that worked. He wanted to tell her about his dreams of the beach and the boy that belonged to them. He wanted to tell her that even if they never had a child, it wouldn’t matter to him as long as he had her. He wanted to tell her these things, but he couldn’t.

However, Mulder could persuade Scully to let him run her a bath to calm her nerves. She lay in the tub, soaking in the warm water, and she could hear him in her kitchen, the sound of cabinets opening and closing, the noise of dishes and silverware, and God knows what else he was doing in there. She let her mind wander, daydreaming that this was their real life. No X-Files. No FBI. Just her and Mulder living under the same roof, enjoying quiet evenings at home together. Their life would be so simple. They’d eat dinner together at her dining table. Then maybe watch some television for a while before going to bed. They’d lie down next to each other in the darkened bedroom and speak softly in hushed tones as they fell asleep. Maybe he’d start giving off a list of names for the baby, some serious, but mostly outrageously terrible names just to make her laugh and protest. He’d ask her if she wanted a boy or a girl, and she’d tell him that it didn’t matter to her as long as the baby was healthy. She would never admit it to Mulder, but she wanted a little boy who looked exactly like him.

Oh, God. What was she doing?! She was going to get her hopes up. She tried to force herself to think of something different.

Then a knock came on the bathroom door, startling her. Why had she allowed herself to daydream like that? Since learning of her infertility and losing Emily, she tried to force herself to forget all her notions of motherhood, her memories of lying awake at night in the bed next to Melissa’s, picking out names for their future unknown children, her vague hopes to someday name a son after her father or a daughter after her sister. These daydreams were something she never, ever did. And she especially forced herself not to imagine these things since embarking on the IVF process with Mulder. How could she have let herself daydream of what could never be? Why uselessly get her hopes up for nothing?

“Scully, do you need anything? Do you want a glass of wine or… something else? Tea, maybe?”

“No. If I drink wine or tea in here, I’ll probably fall asleep and drown. You wouldn’t want that on your conscience.”

Mulder chuckled.

“What are you doing in my kitchen?” she asked, standing up in the tub and grabbing the towel he’d laid on the sink. A cup of tea did sound good. “Nothing… dangerous, I hope.”

“No, nothing dangerous or anything you need to worry about,” he replied, before walking away from the bathroom door.

Scully felt skeptical about that. She stepped out of the tub and dried off, before putting on her bathrobe and heading out of the bathroom. Upon entering her kitchen, she saw cartons of Chinese food on her counter. It smelled so good. Mulder had also turned off every light except the one underneath her kitchen cabinets, highlighting the countertop, and one lamp in the living room. There was music playing softly in her living room. She walked over and stood behind him, surprised he hadn’t noticed her come into the kitchen. What would she ever do without him? They could’ve still been standing there, arguing, and she still would’ve wanted him to stay. She couldn’t imagine a life without him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him from behind.

“I see you’ve been busy,” Scully said, pulling away and moving to stand next to him at the counter.

“Not really. One phone call to order delivery, and I unloaded your dishwasher. I hope you’ll be able to find your stuff. You don’t do regular inventory, do you?”

Scully snorted. Her slight annoyance over Mulder touching her dishwasher was drowned out by her gratitude. “I’ll pour the tea if you dish up that food.”

He grinned. “It’s a deal. I’ll meet you in the living room.”

She didn’t end up eating very much, but Mulder was glad she at least tried to. They both drank a mug of tea, though. The remains of their meal sat on the coffee table while they sat next to each other on the couch watching TV, trying not to fall asleep. Mulder could see Scully was about to doze off, and he pulled her closer so that she curled up against him and laid her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arm around him and closing her eyes. He threw his arm around her back, his hand sinking into the soft silkiness of her hair, and he soon thought she had fallen asleep.

But then Scully whispered, “I’m sorry, Mulder.”

He sighed. “You have nothing to be sorry about, Scully.”

“I shouldn’t be putting you through this.” She was starting to doubt herself, and her decision to try IVF for a third time. How much longer could she expect herself to do this? How many more times could she do this to Mulder?

“Through what? Something that might be the chance of a lifetime? Something that might make up for all the horrible shit that’s happened to us?” He wanted to say more, but he left it there.

Scully looked up at him, giving him a half smile, and he bent his head to press his lips to hers, kissing her softly.

Mulder pulled away, breaking the kiss, and whispered, “I’m not ever giving up on a miracle.”

…A couple hours later, the emergency room doctor at Holy Cross Hospital gave Scully the ‘all-clear’ and she got dressed, discarding her hospital gown. She wondered how she was going to get home, as her car was still parked at Walden-Freedman in Bethesda. She thought about calling her mother, but Scully wasn’t sure how she was going to break it to her that she was once again in the hospital for doing something stupid.

Scully stepped out into the hallway to find Agent Doggett and Skinner standing against the wall, talking quietly. They turned to look at her, concern written all over their faces.

“You want a ride home, Agent Scully?” Doggett asked.

“Uh, yeah, thanks.” She’d have to figure out how to get her car back sometime later. They walked in silence, and Scully sensed he had a hundred questions. However, she also sensed that he was too much of a polite Southerner to invade her privacy and ask those questions. But on their drive to Georgetown, Scully finally broke the silence.

“Agent Doggett, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this,” she began, hesitating slightly. “But… everything that’s happened tonight… I would appreciate it if…”

“Agent Scully, you can’t keep your pregnancy a secret forever,” he replied, interrupting her. “I’m pretty sure at some point, it’s gonna become obvious to everyone.”

She sighed, and looked down at her belly. “I know. But the surrounding circumstances… my infertility, Mulder’s abduction…”

He glanced over at her. “We are going to find him. And I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure the X-Files don’t get shut down.”

Scully looked over at him, wondering if he was developing some kind of misguided loyalty to her. He honestly should get out while he still can, before everyone he loves gets taken away from him, before the only thing he has left in the world is the unending pursuit of a truth he can never hope to find.

Once they arrived in Georgetown and Doggett parked in front of Scully’s apartment building, he got out of the driver’s side and walked quickly around to the other side, opening the door and holding out his hand to help her get out.

She stared at him, blinking, and then she laughed. “I’m not _that_ pregnant, Agent Doggett.”

He shrugged his shoulders, a grin starting to spread across his face. Scully got out of the vehicle and started to walk away towards the front door of her building.

“You gonna be all right?” asked Doggett.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she replied, turning around to look at him. “I’ll see you on Monday morning.”

He nodded, and watched her disappear inside her building.

*****

The following Sunday afternoon, July 23rd, Scully arrived in Falls Church, Virginia after receiving a phone call from Agent Doggett, asking her to meet him at his house. She wondered what was going on, if this had anything to do with his friend Martin Wells. She walked up to the front door, and knocked.

Doggett opened the door a few seconds later, wearing blue jeans and a red t-shirt, glad that Scully had dressed fairly casually. She wasn’t in jeans, but at least she wasn’t wearing a suit. It was the weekend, after all. “Perfect timing. Come in.”

She stepped inside the house, and he shut the door behind her. She then followed him to his living room, where the television was turned on. She saw a large pizza box on the coffee table as well as a couple beers and cans of diet soda in a small metal ice bucket.

“What’s going on, Agent Doggett?”

“I thought you’d like to hang out and watch the race.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Race?”

He nodded. “Yeah. NASCAR. It’s the Pennsylvania 500. Just starting. Pizza arrived just a few minutes ago. See? Perfect timing.”

Scully suppressed a grin, and sat down on the couch. “So, basically, we’re gonna eat some pizza while we watch a bunch of cars make left turns all afternoon?”

Doggett chuckled, sitting down next to her. “It’s a little more complicated than that. But… yeah, pretty much.”

She shrugged and leaned over, opening the box and taking a slice of the pepperoni pizza, setting it on one of the plastic plates that had been stacked on the coffee table, before sitting back and taking a bite. Doggett watched her chewing contentedly and smiled, before grabbing a slice of pizza for himself and turning the volume up on the TV.


	80. “It's probably scarier when you stop having the dream.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellefleur, Oregon abductees suddenly start returning in Montana, leading to the realization of Scully's worst fears.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of the episode "This is Not Happening" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz, and belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> Sidenote #1: Skinner says that the Bellefleur abductees and Mulder disappeared "last spring." Yet this episode is supposed to take place sometime in December (according to 1013's brilliant timeline) and Scully doesn't even have a prominent baby bump. It was things like this that drove the fans absolutely crazy on the message boards at the time. I have a vivid memory of someone posting something like "SHE SHOULD BE DROPPING THIS KID ANY DAY NOW!" So, yeah, the message boards looked like that for quite a while. Eventually people gave up trying to figure it out because it was just obvious that 1013 cared nothing about continuity anymore.
> 
> Sidenote #2: Those of you who happen to follow me on Twitter may have seen just how much this episode affected me, after not having watched it in many years. Writing this chapter was even more emotional. Many tears went into this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Philip Selway – “Don’t Go Now”
> 
> In the quiet I need you  
> I think I hear you laugh  
> And in the crowd I see you  
> A face I know by heart
> 
> Don't go now, stay close, be with me  
> Don't go now, stay close, be with me
> 
> Though I can't remember  
> Why we cared about  
> All the great frustrations  
> A treasure to me now
> 
> Don't go now, stay close, be with me  
> Don't go now, stay close, be with me
> 
> Another trace has faded  
> All the plans have changed  
> But for a passing moment  
> I'm here with you again
> 
> Don't go now, stay close, be with me  
> Don't go now, stay close, be with me

Late on Friday evening, July 28th, she opened the door to her motel room in Helena, Montana, and Scully stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind her, before moving to set her duffel bag on the edge of the bed, sighing as she did so. She was exhausted. Her hand moved to caress the growing curve of her belly. She was 16 weeks along now, and knew that her baby was probably the size of an avocado. When she looked at herself in the mirror there was definitely a noticeable bump, though small, which she thankfully was still able to cover up with slightly oversized shirts and her suit jackets. After removing her laptop from the bag and setting it on the desk against the wall, she sat down in the chair and pulled out her cell phone. It had been a long, trying day, flying from D.C. to Montana, after having just arrived back from Oklahoma the night before, and then spending most of the remainder of the day at St. Jean Hospital.

“Agent Scully?” Byers answered. Langly and Frohike looked up from their computers and stared at him. Byers promptly put the call on speaker phone.

“Hi, John,” Scully said. She then sighed. “Teresa Hoese’s been found.”

Frohike and Langly got up and walked over to stand next to the phone with Byers, their eyes wide with fear and worry.

“Is she alive?” asked Byers.

“Barely,” she replied. “What she’s suffered… I can’t even begin to imagine.” Except Scully could imagine it. The sight of the scars on Teresa’s body, her face and chest, wrists and ankles, those injuries haunted Scully’s dreams.

Frohike leaned over the phone. “Where are you, Agent Scully?”

She glanced around the dull, impersonal motel room. “I’m in Montana. I’m calling because apparently there have been UFO sightings out here, and I was wondering if you could get any more information on this. Or if you might already know of these sightings?”

“The message boards have been busy lately,” replied Langly. “MUFON has reported several sightings in the Mountain West over the last two weeks.”

Scully paused. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? This could be important. For the past two months we’ve been searching for a break.”

The Gunmen exchanged glances. “They were just sightings of UFO activity,” Byers answered. “But nothing came of it. None of the MUFON chapters or anyone on the message boards reported any abductions.”

“Abductions are not what’s happening here,” she said. “People are being returned. Tortured and left for dead, if Teresa Hoese is any indication.”

“Scully, do you want us to come out there?” Frohike asked. Byers and Langly exchanged anxious looks.

She smiled sadly into the phone, appreciating the offer. “No, that’s okay. I’ve got Agent Doggett and Assistant Director Skinner with me. Besides, you might be of better assistance by staying in Washington.”

Frohike and Langly started to move back toward their computers. “We’re on it, Agent Scully,” said Byers. “We’re gonna see what else we can find.”

Scully thanked them and then hung up the phone. After showering and changing into pajamas, she lay down in her darkened room but was unable to sleep. She kept thinking about their meeting earlier that day with Richie Szalay, who was still diligently searching for his friend Gary. She saw the pain and anxiety on his face, clearly horrified over discovering Teresa Hoese in that condition, and fearing the same thing Sully feared. What had been done to Teresa had more than likely been done to the other abductees as well.

Agent Doggett had been right earlier. As much as she wanted to find Mulder, she was also afraid to. The doctors had no idea how to treat Teresa Hoese, and they had very little hope that she’d ever recover from damage so severe. Had Mulder suffered just as badly as her? She had been able to hold onto hope for his safe return, that she would be able to find him safe and unharmed. But coming face to face with the reality of Teresa’s situation was causing this hope to dwindle, only to be replaced by terrible fear, fear so deep it tore at her stomach. Eventually her exhaustion pulled her under into a restless, fitful sleep.

_Lights turned on in a large, dirty, and dark room filled with the cold metal of unrecognizable machinery. Mulder was restrained in a large chair, blood dripping from his impaled wrists and ankles. Each side of his face was held by three metal clamps. He was unconscious and extremely pale, noticeable scars all over his body._

Scully woke up, gasping with terror. She wished she could stop these horrible dreams. They’d become an almost nightly occurrence. And unlike most dreams, the details wouldn’t fade, and she was now vividly remembering them throughout the day, as much as she tried to force those horrible images from her mind.

She glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table. It was almost 3:00 am. She'd barely slept four hours. There was no point in going back to sleep, even if she could. She dressed all in black, another strategy to hide the growing inches around her abdomen. Doggett was right, she was afraid. She wanted to talk about it, but found that her partner’s stubborn refusal to see what was really going on prevented her from seeking out his sympathetic ear. And he didn't know Mulder, couldn't possibly comprehend the tragedy involved with losing him.

At just past 3:30, Scully pulled on her black jacket as the night was rather cool, despite the pleasant 75 degrees during the day, and left her room. She knocked at Skinner’s motel room door. After a few seconds the door opened, and Skinner stood there in a white t-shirt and dark blue gym shorts.

“What if he's dead?” she whispered, her voice weak with worry.

Skinner didn't know what to say. He didn’t want to give up hope. But he knew it was a possibility.

Scully averted her eyes, feeling embarrassed. “I'm sorry. I just had a bad dream.”

“Let me get some clothes on,” he said.

She nodded as he closed the door. A few minutes later he joined her out in the parking lot, where she stood staring up at the bright stars overhead.

“I once had a talk with Mulder about starlight, how it's billions of years old,” said Scully. It had been less than six months ago when she stood outside looking up into the starry nighttime sky with Mulder. That had been such a difficult time for him. “Stars that are now long dead whose light is still traveling through time. It won't die, that light. Maybe that's the only thing that never does. He said that's where souls reside. I hope he's right.” Like Mulder, she also wanted closure. She wanted it to be over. She wanted the chasing around for vague leads and shreds of truth to end. She wanted him back, needed him back, not only for her sake but for their child, but her heart was sinking and she feared the worst. She didn’t know how she would ever be able to go on without him.

A long pause ensued, and Skinner stared at her watching the sky. He then put his arm around her shoulders. “If you're trying to prepare yourself I want you to stop. Nothing says that we're going to stumble over him in some field. Nothing says he won't be fine.”

She nodded, her face falling, unable to fight the tears any longer, and she crumpled, turning into his chest and sobbing quietly. He held her and stroked her hair gently. Scully wanted to be hopeful, but those nightmares suffocated her hope. She clutched at Skinner’s shirt, fervently praying to God that she would find Mulder alive, begging Him to hear her, begging for another miracle.

*****

Agent Doggett almost felt like pleading with Scully, wanting her to drop this nonsense about alien abductions. “It'd make sense. The leader of the cult leaves this woman out here to die. Learning she's still alive he comes back to kidnap her again for fear of exposure. It'd make sense, too that if we find this guy, maybe we find Mulder.”

She gave Doggett a hard stare. It was unbelievable to her that he was once again suggesting that Mulder had willingly left her, that he had joined some wacko UFO cult. “Are you asking me to believe this?”

“No, that's not what I said,” replied Special Agent Monica Reyes from the New Orleans field office, whom Doggett had called the night before to help give them another perspective. “I don't think he left her to die. I don't think she's dead.”

“Based on what?” Scully asked. Teresa Hoese had gone missing from St. Jean Hospital, but how that happened nobody knew, nor had there been any sign of her since.

Monica smiled, slightly shrugging her shoulders. “Nothing, really. It's just a feeling.”

Scully had had enough of this. Doggett and this Agent Reyes can stand around coming up with different points of view and eliminating theories all they want. But she wasn’t going to stand around listening to this. She needed to find Teresa Hoese. She needed to find her partner. Scully turned on her heel and walked away from them. Monica smiled at Skinner somewhat awkwardly as Doggett walked off, following Scully.

“What are you walking away for?” he asked, keeping his voice low so as to be unheard by Skinner and Monica. “It makes some kind of sense.”

“I'm glad you agree with her, Agent Doggett, because I'm not even sure that she agrees with you. Nor has she made any sense for me of how the doctor who removed Teresa Hoese from the hospital last night seems, by all accounts, to have been in two places at once.”

He inwardly groaned. “I know where you're going with this, Agent Scully. But if you're going to tell me this is another Alien Bounty Hunter, this is where we part company.”

She stared at him. She had no time to coddle Doggett, to try to convince him of the truth. Just because he didn’t believe what was really going on here, didn’t make it any less real. “Enjoy your new company.”

Doggett stared after Scully as she walked away from him, feeling at a loss as to how to solve this thing when he was at such odds with his partner on how to even pursue it.

Later on Saturday afternoon, Scully was once again back at St. Jean’s hoping to find any new information on Teresa Hoese’s disappearance from the hospital, hoping that reviewing the security camera footage might shed some light on what had happened the night before. Surprisingly, she found Monica Reyes also at the hospital looking at Teresa’s MRI results and X-rays instead of with Agent Doggett looking for a suspect wearing size 9 Nike sneakers. Also a surprise to Scully, Agent Reyes didn’t dismiss claims of alien abduction out-of-hand.

“You believe in extraterrestrials?” Scully asked.

She laughed a little. “Let's just say I don't not believe. As I said, I try to stay open.”

As Monica crossed to another part of the room to look at an X-ray, Scully considered what Agent Reyes had said about not being a disbeliever.

“What is it you specialize in again?” asked Scully. “Ritualistic crime?”

“Right,” Monica affirmed, nodding her head. “Satanic ritual abuse. Or, I should say claims of it. We never found any hard evidence.”

Scully thought that sure sounded familiar. “We should talk sometime.”

Monica turned from the X-rays. “Not that I don't believe in it. I was something of a black sheep in the field office in New Orleans… because of my beliefs.”

“And what beliefs are those?” Scully wondered what Mulder would think of Agent Reyes.

“I just have certain spiritual notions,” Monica replied. “I believe there are energies in the universe. It might sound kind of cosmic but I think I'm sensitive to them. I mean, I get these feelings.”

She was suddenly reminded of her sister, the feelings she'd get about Scully or Mulder, her ideas of cosmic energies. And Melissa had always been right about Mulder. She wished her sister was still a phone call away. “And do you have any feelings about Agent Mulder?”

Monica shook her head. “I don't know Agent Mulder. And I don't have any feelings about him. But I am feeling your fear. And fear's not going to help you find him or anyone else. Maybe you can try and stay open, too.”

She gave a slight nod of her head. As Agent Reyes walked away from her, Scully didn’t know how she could possibly allow herself to be open to the idea that Mulder had joined some cult, that he would purposely stay away from her all this time. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. She refused to believe that. She felt her fear become more palpable, felt her heart sinking to her stomach.

At 10:12 am on Sunday morning, July 30th, Scully was once again at St. Jean’s Hospital, in the morgue with Skinner and an increasingly quiet Doggett, standing over the steel gurney containing the latest Bellefleur abductee who had been found the night before in a field outside the city of Helena by Agent Reyes.

Scully felt her throat constricting, finding it difficult to speak into the tape recorder. “Examination of victim, Gary Edward Cory, reveals cuts and abrasions from ligature or binding devices accompanied by distal and proximal bruising radiating in a symmetrical pattern around the ankles, the wrists… and the face.” Her voice broke. It felt like her nightmares were coming true.

The door to the autopsy bay opened and Richie Szalay entered with an officer from the Helena Police Department, having been called down to I.D. the body. He stared in shock. “Oh, my God, Gary.”

“You can go now, Richie,” Scully told him. “They just need you to sign a form.”

He looked sadly at his best friend, stunned by what was happening, and stumbled back out of the room. Scully began to cry silently, desperately trying to fight her tears. Was it only a matter of time before her best friend was found in the same state? She now had little doubt of what Mulder had been suffering for the past two months, the cruel torture he’d been enduring like Teresa Hoese and Richie’s friend Gary.

Skinner didn’t want her to do this to herself. They could easily find another pathologist. “Dana…”

She took a deep breath. “I'm okay. There's work to do here.” As she picked up the scalpel to begin the Y incision, she turned her head to watch Doggett walk determinedly towards the door, pausing when opening it for Skinner to follow him. 

Skinner stared at Doggett’s back, standing there in the threshold holding the door open, before turning back to look at Scully.

“It’s okay,” she said, her face once again a mask of determination. “Go with him. I’ll be finished in about two hours.”

He sighed and walked towards the door, following Doggett out to the hallway, closing the door behind him.

*****

Doggett stood in the hallway outside the autopsy bay, staring hard at Skinner. “Sir, this is a terrible idea. The medical examiner should be handling this. Not her.”

“It’s her job,” Skinner replied tersely. “It’s what she does. And she’s the best at what she does.”

“You tell me how is she gonna cut into that body in there, study the horrendous damage done to that young man, and not picture Agent Mulder lying there under the scalpel?” Doggett demanded heatedly.

Skinner sighed. “She needs to do this.”

Doggett gave him a puzzled look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“John, what do you think the chances are that Mulder is alive?” Skinner asked. The night before he hadn’t wanted to give up hope. But after the discovery of Gary Cory, that hope was dwindling fast. “I want your honest opinion.”

“The chances are getting slimmer,” replied Doggett, his stomach knotting. “But I’m not giving up. I told her I was going to find him. And I’m going to.”

Skinner glanced at the door to the autopsy bay, where Scully was hard at work. “There’s been very little she could do up to this point in the search for Mulder. I think this can help her feel as though she’s actually doing something proactive to solve this case. And she… she needs to come to grips with what’s happened to Mulder. She needs to face the reality of the situation, something we shouldn’t be preventing. We have to trust her judgment. She knows what she’s doing.”

Doggett shook his head, walking away through the double doors at the end of the hallway, Skinner staring after him, before entering the corridor outside the morgue and sitting down on a bench against the wall. With his elbows on his knees, he stared at the floor. With every cut of the scalpel, he knew Scully was cutting into her own heart. He thought of her baby, and worried about what she was doing to herself, the torment she was enduring. With every piece of evidence that was uncovered, the possibility that they would find Agent Mulder alive decreased. Maybe AD Skinner was right. Was this just Scully’s way of preparing herself for Mulder’s death? This was an outcome Doggett didn’t want to face, and he had no idea how she would be able to. But as he sat there on the bench, an ominous feeling overcame him, and he felt deep down that this might not end well. But he was determined to find Mulder before he could be discovered in some field like Teresa Hoese or Gary Cory. If he could gather just a small amount of the strength Scully was demonstrating in there right now, he might actually prove himself worthy enough to be her partner, and maybe even her friend. Right now, that was the very least he could do for her. After he'd been sitting there for over an hour, a voice took him out of his thoughts.

“You're hurting for her, I know.”

He looked up to see Monica standing there. He hadn’t even heard her approach.

“Agent Scully,” she concluded.

“I don't know how she's doing it in there,” Doggett said, once again staring at the wall in front of him. “With everything she's feeling. What she's afraid of.”

Monica watched him sitting there. She had a strong sense of déjà vu. “You know all too well.”

He turned to stare at her, standing up from the bench. That was the last thing he ever wanted to talk about. “Let's leave the past in the past.”

“It was your fear, too,” Monica replied gently. “Those three days we looked for your son. The fear of finding what we did.”

Doggett felt uncomfortable, and wanted her to drop it.

She looked at him sympathetically. “I understand. That's why you're so determined to find Mulder alive.”

“It's why I can't stand here and listen to all this mumbo jumbo about spaceships,” he said matter-of-factly. If Scully was indeed trying to prepare herself, it was best she stopped searching the sky and came down to earth.

“I saw what I saw, John. I'm not going to lie to you. But whatever it was, it led to this. It's the man I saw in the field.” She showed him a color photo and the rap sheet of the man she had seen the night before when she’d found the latest victim. “He goes by the name Absalom. A religious zealot who escaped a shoot-out in Idaho, where he was the nominal leader of a doomsday cult who believed aliens would take over the world at the millennium. Disgraced when they didn't, he fled and tried a more ecumenical scam: credit card fraud. I ran the plate on the pickup truck. It's registered to a farm about an hour from here.”

Doggett stared at the information. This was it. It was possible this Absalom had relocated this cult of his to Montana, maybe gathering new followers. It was possible others like Teresa Hoese and Gary Cory could be found at that farm, that they could be found before they met the same fate. Maybe even Mulder.

“Let’s check it out,” he said, before he handed the Absalom rap sheet back to Monica and started to walk quickly back to the double doors leading to the morgue. “I want a warrant issued by the FBI satellite office here in Helena and tell them to get a SWAT team together.”

He pulled out his cell phone, speed dialing AD Skinner, and made his way back to the autopsy bay to talk to Scully. Monica took the information on Absalom and left the hospital, heading for the FBI office on West 15th Street.

Scully looked up at Doggett has he reentered the room. “Agent Doggett?”

“We might have a break in this case,” he said. “The man Agent Reyes saw out there last night. It turns out the guy is a known doomsday cult leader. We ran the plates of the truck he was driving and got an address. It’s a farm outside of town.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “I’m just about finished up here. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

Doggett nodded, glanced at the body on the gurney, and walked out of the autopsy bay to stand in the hallway. Memories were starting to resurface after his talk with Monica, memories he was trying to push away. He knew she had meant well, and was only trying to help, to sympathize with their current situation. And she had been right. He knew what his partner was feeling. He knew that Agent Scully was no longer afraid she would never find Mulder. She feared she would find him injured beyond repair, or dead.

He desperately fought back images of his son, of what they found. Three days of searching coming to a torturous end in those woods, a bullet in his son’s back and other unspeakable injuries. After the funeral, Doggett had sat in his home office staring at his loaded gun. If Barbara hadn’t walked into the room when she did, he probably wouldn’t be alive right now. Sometimes he wasn’t sure whether that was a good or a bad thing.

And now he was there, trying to save Scully from experiencing that same nightmare. He hadn’t realized he was putting himself in his partner’s ordeal until Monica had pointed it out to him, which wasn’t a surprise. She had a knack for making him see things he didn’t think he wanted to see, to turn things around and make him view them from a different perspective. Her intuition and the ‘feelings’ she’d get amused her fellow agents in the New Orleans field office. That city was perfect for someone like her because he knew that a lot of folks in New Orleans were deeply rooted in superstitions, so her beliefs could never be fully dismissed as ludicrous. But at least Monica never came up with anything too crazy, so that her career was adversely affected. Unlike Mulder.

Admittedly, Doggett didn’t know all that much about Agent Mulder. Only what he’d gathered from the man’s case files. He knew Mulder was extremely intelligent, had a strong distrust of those in authority, and a tendency to be so damn reckless that it arguably verged on the point of being suicidal. But there was obviously a lot more to Mulder than just those well-known attributes. There was Agent Scully, the love and unswerving devotion she felt for the man. As far as Doggett was concerned, that alone vouched for Mulder’s character.

Doggett stood outside the autopsy bay, staring at the door, with a sinking heart, knowing what they’d most likely find out on Absalom’s farm. Two months ago, he’d made a promise to Agent Scully that he would find Mulder, intending on finding him alive and bringing him back home. He’d made that promise long before he fully realized just what it would mean if he failed, long before he knew an unborn child was involved. He’d watched Scully earlier in that room, barely able to hold it together over the dead body of a stranger. And Doggett then made another promise. He vowed to himself that he was going to find Agent Mulder, even if that meant he was dead. But he was going to do everything in his power to prevent Scully from seeing Mulder in such a state, to spare her the nightmare that he knew all too well.

“She still in there?”

Doggett turned to see AD Skinner approaching. “Yeah. But she’ll be out soon.”

Skinner nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “The warrant’s being issued as we speak and the SWAT team is preparing. They’re flying in from the Salt Lake City field office. We’re gonna head out as soon as it starts getting dark.”

He glanced at the door to the autopsy bay. The sun wasn’t going to set until 9:00 pm. There were a lot of hours between now and then. Doggett didn’t want to wait that long, but knew that approaching the farm stealthily by cover of night meant there was less likely a chance for the operation to escalate into something like the Waco siege or a Jim Jones situation.

Doggett turned back to look at Skinner. “Sir, I’m sure you realize that we’re not just looking for Agent Scully’s FBI partner.”

“What are you getting at, Agent Doggett?”

“I just think we need to understand exactly what we’re gonna be dealing with,” he replied. “Agents Mulder and Scully, I mean… it wasn’t just a working relationship. Right?”

Skinner clenched his jaw and fixed a hard stare. “I don’t see how that is relevant.”

He sighed. “It is relevant, sir. Are we gonna be dealing with a bereft partner or a grieving widow?”

“John, if you’re trying to prepare yourself for how Scully is going to react if we find Mulder dead, well… I think you of all people should know exactly what that will be like.”

Doggett looked away and was silent. His son’s death had occurred back when he was working with the NYPD. But the FBI knew of it, of course, as it was in his personnel file, at least those in positions of authority did. His fellow agents in the Violent Crimes Unit knew nothing about it. Neither did Agent Scully. But no one, other than Barbara, truly knew what he had gone through, although he guessed that Monica had her suspicions of just how close his son’s death had come to destroying him.

“Then she shouldn’t be left alone until this whole thing is over,” said Doggett, before turning to look back at Skinner. “Even when we get back to Washington.”

Before Skinner could reply, the door opened and Scully stood there in front of them, changed out of her blue scrubs and into her black pantsuit, her face masked and unreadable. But Doggett saw that her eyes were watery and red, and bespoke of the hidden pain she was feeling.

She sighed, looking at Doggett. “Gary Cory did not die directly from his injuries, although that’s surprising. Based on the level of adrenaline in his blood as well as organ failure and hypoxemia, I’d say he died of shock. His system was unable to cope with what was happening to him.”

Doggett nodded, wondering how she could speak of this without any hint of the turmoil underneath. “We’re moving out on that farm tonight, as soon as the sun sets.”

Scully glanced at her watch, and then looked up at Skinner. “Sir, I’d like to go back to the motel for a little while, if that’s all right.”

“Of course,” Skinner replied.

The three of them turned to see Agent Reyes coming down the hallway in their direction.

“Uh, Monica…” Doggett said as she approached them. “Could you go with Agent Scully back to the motel?”

She looked at Doggett, sensing his anxiety, and then turned to Scully, smiling. “Sure.”

He glanced at Scully, at her puzzled stare in his direction, before she silently turned and walked off with Monica, Doggett and Skinner staring after their departing backs.

*****

The FBI agents were searching the wooded area behind Absalom’s farm, as a patchy fog settled just above the ground, tangling through the trees. The fog hung at their feet, thick in some spots while stretched and thin in others. The moonlight shining overhead gave the whole area a ghostly afterglow.

Doggett stepped through the fog, swirling around his ankles, watched as it took on a florescent glimmer under the glare of his flashlight. They’d arrived back at the compound just before 4:00 am, and he’d spent the last 10 minutes walking around in the misty woods. They were searching for the body from the video camera footage, the one that had arrived at the farm in the bed of the truck belonging to Absalom.

What a freak show that guy was. More millennium-end-of-the-world garbage. Doggett couldn’t believe people would actually buy into that crap. Apparently an alien invasion was happening, that was the reason these people like Teresa Hoese had been taken and then returned. What a load of shit. He knew it was only a matter of time before they found the video footage with proof that this Absalom character had tortured these people.

He continued walking through the trees, his flashlight scanning the hazy ground. Members of the FBI’s SWAT team from the Salt Lake City field office were also combing the area. Doggett had once considered becoming SWAT-certified. He knew it was a highly competitive process, with rigorous requirements, such as passing strenuous fitness tests and maintaining expert marksmanship. Additionally, SWAT team members were also expected to carry out their regular investigative duties as special agents. But he didn't think working the X-Files allowed for the time and energies required to become a SWAT member.

“Agent Doggett!”

He turned quickly and looked in the direction the voice had come from. All he saw was darkness, and moonlit fog among the trees. Then a figure emerged and Doggett started walking to meet him. The agent then came close enough so that he recognized him as Agent Randy Ross, who was in charge of the SWAT team.

“What is it?” asked Doggett, his stomach knotting. “What have you got?”

Agent Ross paused, his expression grim. “It’s Agent Mulder.”

Doggett’s heart sank with a heavy thud down to his stomach. He started making his way back to where Agent Ross had come from, jogging over the leaves and grass that covered the ground. Once he’d reached a clearing, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of a small group of agents, standing with their backs to him, their attention drawn to something on the ground. He closed his eyes, a painful memory coming forward, and he willed himself to focus on the task at hand. Doggett then joined the group of agents, shouldering them aside, and looked down at the deceased body of Agent Fox Mulder, naked and lying on his right side, partially covered by a charcoal gray blanket.

“No,” Doggett breathed.

The air was silent. None of the SWAT members spoke. Doggett knelt down next to Mulder’s body, feeling for the pulse he knew wouldn’t be there. And there was no pulse, nor breath. From the appearance of the discoloration of Mulder’s face, he was dead long before they’d ever arrived at the compound.

Doggett hung his head in defeat, and then stood up wearily.

“Orders, Agent Doggett?” asked Ross. The other agents all looked at him expectantly.

“We need to call in a forensic team.” He sighed, staring down at Mulder’s body. He couldn’t believe this was happening. “The coroner, too. Get AD Skinner out here. And Agent Reyes.”

Agent Ross pulled out the walkie-talkie and held it up to his mouth, before pausing. “Agent Scully too?”

He turned his head sharply at Ross, and spoke tersely. “No. I don’t want her out here.”

The other agents exchanged glances as Ross nodded, speaking over the walkie-talkie with one of his men back at the farmhouse, informing him of the discovery of Agent Mulder and commanding him to relate this news to Assistant Director Skinner and Agent Monica Reyes.

*****

Walter Skinner stood inside the farmhouse, having returned from searching the wooded area north of the compound, having found nothing. He leaned back against a wall, staring at the closed door to the room which held Scully, Agent Reyes, and one of the detainees. He knew Doggett and the other agents were still combing the land surrounding the compound for the body they’d seen on the video tape. Skinner also knew that every single Bellefleur, Oregon abductee had been accounted for. They were all here in this farmhouse, save Gary Cory in the morgue, Billy Miles, and Mulder. The body in the back of that truck, the one on the tape, could it have been Mulder?

Skinner darkly reminded himself that he played no small part in what was happening. He’d completely failed Scully with the most important task she’d ever asked of him. It was his fault. If he hadn’t looked down, if he’d paid better attention to Mulder out there, or if he’d simply commanded Mulder not to go at all… what if, what if, what if. Mulder would’ve gone anyways, he knew that. He was fairly sure Scully knew that too. But the knowledge that she didn’t blame him for what had happened to Mulder didn’t make him feel any less responsible.

And Scully had come to him for comfort in her distress, asking the question no one wanted to ask. He tried to calm her fears with hopeful words, but the possibility that this was going to end exactly the way she feared was increasing with each passing hour. Doggett had also asked him a question, wanting to know just how much of a wreck Scully was going to be when this ordeal came to its inevitable, horrific end. Agents Mulder and Scully were closer than any twosome he’d ever known, and yet he knew very little with regards to personal details. He knew the details of cases they’d worked, the life-threatening situations they’d survived together. But outside the parameters of the X-Files, Skinner suspected no one truly knew everything their relationship was. There was no way he’d ever be able to describe what they were to each other. Right now, the biggest indicator was the baby Agent Scully was carrying around, something she never talked about and he never asked after. It wasn’t really his business, anyways.

“Assistant Director?”

He turned to see one of the SWAT team members standing off to his right. “Yes? What is it?”

“The body of Agent Fox Mulder has been found, sir,” the young man said. “Agent Doggett is requesting that you join the team in the southeast woods.”

For as much as Skinner had been preparing himself to hear these words, he could never have truly prepared for the impact they would have once he’d heard them. His stomach bottomed out. He sagged against the wall, and felt as though his legs would give out.

The agent cleared his throat. “Uh, sir, Agent Doggett is also asking for Agent Reyes.”

Skinner nodded his head at the closed door in front of him. “She’s in there.”

While this conversation had been going on out in the hallway, Scully had asked the detainee to sit down, believing with little doubt that this was the man she needed. “Are you Jeremiah Smith?” she asked the man sitting in the chair in front of her.

“No. I, uh…”

She saw his hesitation when answering. “Did you heal these people?”

He averted his eyes, then looked determinedly back at her and spoke casually. “No.”

“Did you heal Teresa Hoese?” asked Scully, stepping closer to him. She knew this was Jeremiah Smith. It had to be him. He would know what had happened to Mulder.

He stared at her, silent.

She was losing time, and he was wasting it. She abruptly leaned over, grabbing his arms. “Look, I know who you are!”

At this moment someone knocked at the door. But she didn’t move, staring at the man as if willing him to transform out of this disguise he’d donned for himself.

“Agent Scully,” said Monica.

She let go of the man and turned back to look at Agent Reyes as she opened the door. One of the SWAT team members stood there and motioned for Monica to step out of the room. She turned back to Scully, saying “I'll be right outside.” Monica then exited the room, closing the door behind her.

Scully turned back and gasped when she saw that the man had become Jeremiah Smith.

“You're going to expose me. You're putting people in danger, abductees all over the country. I save them. I'm the only one.”

“Where's Mulder?” she whispered, unable to quite believe her eyes. She could feel from her head to her toes that she was close, that Mulder was close, that Jeremiah Smith had the answers.

He stared at her. “You came crashing in here. I was trying to help him, too.”

“Where is Mulder?!” whispered Scully desperately. She then gasped again as the door suddenly opened, and she turned to see Skinner and Agent Reyes standing there.

“You'd better come with us,” Skinner said quietly, holding the door open.

Breathing heavily, Scully looked back at Jeremiah Smith, but he was once again in the form of the unidentified man, looking very frightened. “You must protect me,” he whispered.

She walked past Skinner and stood in the doorway looking at Agent Reyes, before turning back to look up at her boss. “What is it?”

Skinner glanced at Agent Reyes, and she met his eyes, her expression somber, before he looked back at Scully. “It's Mulder.”

Butterflies filled her stomach, and tears pricked her widening eyes. Could her nightmare really be over? They’d really found him? The thought of seeing him again sent her running through the farmhouse to the exit, Skinner following closely behind her. The burgeoning hope he’d seen in her eyes had crushed him, and he hadn't been able to speak the words. He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. Once they made it outside, he directed her to make for the wooded area southeast of the compound, and she took off in a sprint, Skinner taking off after her.

*****

The faint sound of running footsteps could be heard, and Doggett turned around. He couldn’t see anyone. But he knew it was her. The sound grew louder, and as he walked away from the group of agents huddled around Mulder’s body he could make out a dark figure heading their way through the trees. He couldn’t see clearly, but he knew it was her. Oh, God. He’d wanted to prevent this.

“Where is he?” Scully called out, before she’d even passed into the clearing.

Doggett watched her emerge from the tree line with a sinking heart, knowing she believed Mulder to be alive. He couldn’t let her do this to herself, and moved to block her approach. He grabbed his rapidly breathing partner, restraining her. “Agent Scully, he's over there.”

“How bad is he? How bad is he?” she asked Doggett frantically, struggling against the restraint of his arms. She had to get Mulder back to the farmhouse, back to Jeremiah Smith.

He was losing his firm hold on her as she struggled to break loose, and she desperately turned to look at Doggett, her voice demanding. “How bad is he hurt?!”

She finally broke free and walked quickly towards Mulder. Doggett turned and glowered angrily at Skinner, his wide-eyed expression accusatory. Skinner averted his eyes, sighing and shaking his head. Doggett continued to glare. How could he have brought her out there like this? What was he thinking? And where the hell was Monica?

Scully stepped closer to Mulder, before stopping, and stared down at him. His cheeks were horribly scarred and bruised. His skin was gray, like the blanket that covered his body. “No,” she breathed. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, her face crumpling as she knelt down next to him.

“No.” She stroked his cold cheek with her trembling hand. “No… No… No,” her voice becoming louder and breaking as she became increasingly hysterical, her words dissolving as she fought to breathe. “No, no.”

Doggett wrapped his arms around her abdomen, pulling her away from Mulder’s body, unable to watch her emotional collapse. She should never have come out there. Scully fought against Doggett’s hold on her with a strength born of desperate anguish. “He needs help.”

“It's too late,” said Doggett, struggling to maintain his grip on her. He felt his heart sinking into his stomach once again. They were too late. He was too late. He’d failed her.

She threw her arm up, swinging it back down to elbow Doggett in the ribs, finally breaking free. No one was going to stop her from getting to Jeremiah Smith. She knew he could save Mulder. “He needs help!”

He made a grab for her, but she’d sprung to her feet and was starting to run away, desperate to reach the only one who could help her, help Mulder. Doggett stared after her as she disappeared into the trees, calling out to her. “Agent Scully!” He then hung his head, sighing in defeat.

Skinner stared at the body on the ground, slowly walking towards it. He looked down at Mulder’s bruised and scarred face, overwhelmed by an onslaught of emotions. Disbelief, confusion, sadness, anger, to name a few. He felt too numb to identify all of them. How could this have happened? This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t believe that after everything Mulder had fought for, and against, everything he’d achieved, this was how his life would end. There were no words to describe this tragic injustice.

“Hey, what’s that?” asked one of the agents standing nearby.

Doggett lifted his head and turned to look at the agent’s outstretched hand, pointing skywards. He looked up at the night sky, turning back to follow the direction of his pointed finger. A bright light was in the distance, and it was moving quickly towards the compound. Doggett’s mouth fell open. It couldn’t be. It had to be a helicopter. Or something. His eyes darted to the path his partner had just ran down moments before.

“Agent Scully,” he breathed, anxiety and fear filling his knotted stomach.

He immediately started running across the clearing, away from the misty field choked with death.

“John!” Skinner called out.

But Doggett had made it past the tree line, perhaps running faster than he ever had before. Moments later he thought someone was running behind him, and knew it had to be Skinner. As he ran he heard the terrified screams from the people gathered in the compound, urging him to run faster.

Scully saw the spaceship over the house, and instead of recoiling in fear, either for herself or even her child, she ran determinedly towards it. She burst in the door as the terrified abductees screamed and fled to the dark corners of the house, away from the light of the UFO. A loud, hollow noise, like a tornado, filled the house and Scully thought the roof was going to rip off above them. The walls shook, glass shattering. The SWAT team stood frozen. She ran towards the room that had held Jeremiah Smith, but the blinding light and deafening noise prevented her from entering it. Suddenly the light was gone and the house no longer shook violently, everything going quiet.

“Jeremiah,” she said urgently, making her way to the door, and opening it, finding it empty. He was gone. He’d asked her to protect him. No doubt the FBI’s raid on the place had triggered unwanted attention from the monsters responsible for all this. Scully crumpled to the floor, her guts churning in agony. She’d lost the one person who could have saved Mulder. How could she find him, only to suffer another cruel twist of fate?! “This is not happening!” she screamed.

Once Doggett had made it out of the woods and laid his eyes on the house, the bright light that had filled the sky was gone and the house was quiet. He paused briefly, before running across the yard towards the compound. And then an agonizing wail pierced the night air, chilling Doggett to the bone.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!”

He ran through the open front doorway of the house, his eyes roaming over the frightened faces of Absalom’s followers and the stunned, nervous looks of the SWAT members. He could still hear Scully’s cries of despair, and ran towards the room. Skinner then entered into the house, chasing after Doggett, and ran into Agent Reyes.

“What happened here?”

“I…,” Monica tried to speak, her eyes wide. She turned her head towards Doggett. “John!”

Doggett then saw the crumpled form of his distressed partner on the floor of a back room, and walked across the threshold. The sound she made… God. If pain had a sound, that was it. It was the sound of deep, irreversible loss. It had been many years since he’d heard sobs like this, heard the unbearable pain behind every anguished “No” that his wife had cried. That he had cried. Doggett knew that Scully had suffered personal losses in her life, it was written down in Mulder’s files. Her father. Her sister. Some daughter she’d never known existed, and Doggett still had no idea how that had even come about. She’d suffered cancer, and infertility. He had no idea how Scully had reacted to those things, he hadn’t been there. It was Mulder who had been there for her, through all the turmoil. But Doggett was there now, and she needed somebody. He worriedly thought of the baby she was carrying, not wanting this ordeal to cause any more pain and loss for Scully.

He turned to see Skinner and Monica running towards the room. Glaring hard at Skinner, Doggett slammed the door in their faces. He got down on the floor next to a weeping Scully, her face streaked with tears, and put his arm around her, placing a calming hand on her upper back.

“I want to die,” she sobbed.

“I know you do,” he said quietly.

Scully pushed him away. “You have no idea how I feel!”

Doggett sighed, closing his eyes. “I know that nothing will ever be the same, and there’s nothing you, or I, or anyone will ever be able to do to fix it. I know there’s no way you or I could have ever brought Mulder back.” He paused, watching her continue to shed her tears of grief. “I know exactly how you feel. It’s what I felt when my son was kidnapped… and murdered.”

“What?” she choked in a shuddering sob, trying to catch her breath, sitting more upright to look at him. “You had a son?”

“Yes,” he replied, nodding sadly. “He was missing for three days, back in 1993. He was just seven years old.”

She blinked at him in surprise. He’d never mentioned this. “John… I’m, I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, waving her apology off. “I just want you to know that I know what you’re going through. It’s hell.”

“I’m going to have a son,” she whispered, her voice breaking, as fresh tears welled up in her eyes and brimmed over.

Doggett gave her a small smile and a look of surprise. “You’ve got a little J. Edgar in there? How did you find out?”

She nodded. “The lab at Quantico gave me the results of the amniocentesis. It’s a boy.”

“Is everything else okay?” he asked, knowing how much she’d been worried when she was in that hospital.

“Yeah,” replied Scully, tears still streaming down her cheeks. “Everything checked out fine. I also had them run the DNA… and Mulder _is_ the father.”

He gave her a puzzled look, his hand returning to her back, and spoke kindly. “Of course he is. Who else would it be?”

She let out a sigh, her breathing shaky. “It was just… good to hold the proof in my hands, I guess.” Scully then closed her eyes, her chin quivering, and fresh tears spilled over. This wasn't supposed to happen this way. After their struggles with the failed IVFs, his prayers for a miracle. How could this be their end? “He never knew.”

“What?” Doggett started to gently rub her back.

“He never knew I was pregnant,” she cried. “He never knew he was going to be a father.”

Before he could respond to this, someone knocked on the door, and he turned to see Agent Randy Ross opening it. “Agent Doggett, the forensic team and the guys from the coroner’s office are here.”

Fresh sobs suddenly choked her, and Scully crumpled to the floor once again. How could she be in this much pain and still be breathing, her heart still beating? Doggett wanted to rip Agent Ross a new one, but he bit his tongue. “AD Skinner can handle it.”

At Doggett’s words, Scully abruptly straightened herself. “I’m going to handle it.”

“What?!” replied Doggett, looking at her red rimmed eyes. “Agent Scully, you shouldn’t go back out there.”

“I want to be with him!” she exclaimed, getting up off the floor and trying to dry her eyes, giving Doggett a pleading look. “I don’t want him to be alone. I’m all he has left.”

He shook his head fervently. He couldn’t let her do this. Then he sighed. Good grief, who was he? Her father? She didn’t want his protection. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Tears still streaming down her face, she gave him a defiant look. “John, I’m going.” Scully then walked past Doggett and out of the room, not once looking back.

*****

A mother’s worst fear is a late night phone call awakening her from sleep, even when her children have long since grown into adulthood and left home. Even when her children now have their own children to keep them lying awake at night.

At just past 10:30 pm on Monday, July 31st, the jarring sound of a ringing telephone awoke Margaret Scully from a deep sleep. She glanced at the clock, her stomach knotting with anxiety, wondering who was on the other end of the line and why they were calling at this time of night, trying not to think of all the horrible possibilities. Maggie sat up in bed, picking up the receiver.

“Hello?” she answered apprehensively.

“Mrs. Scully?”

It was a man’s voice, and it was one she didn’t recognize. She immediately knew which child this phone call was in reference to.

“What’s happened to Dana?” Maggie asked worriedly, bracing herself for the answer.

The man hesitated, a silent pause hanging between them, and her hands started to tremble.

“Um… well, nothing’s happened _to_ her, exactly, ma’am.” He sighed. “This is Special Agent John Doggett, and I work with your daughter. We’re out in Montana right now.”

“Okay,” Maggie replied, not knowing what to make of that answer. Dana hadn’t even told her she was going somewhere. “Well, what _has_ happened?”

Agent Doggett sighed. “Ma’am, late last night… the deceased body of Fox Mulder was found.”

Maggie felt like a rug had been pulled from under her, and she gasped, closing her eyes. “Oh, no.”

“Agent Scully… uh, Dana, will be flying back to Washington tomorrow morning,” Doggett said. “As I’m sure you can imagine, she’s in a particular state of distress. And… I, uh, I don’t think she should be alone.”

“What time does her flight get in?” Maggie asked without hesitation.

Fifteen minutes later, she wiped the shed tears from her face and took a deep breath. She’d not only cried for her daughter, but she cried for Fox himself, for the young man who'd sat on that bench and comforted her, who kept her daughter's cross, who'd argued against pulling the plug, who'd refused to sit back and allow her daughter to succumb to cancer. She'd cried for everything that he was, everything that he’d done for her daughter, everything that he’d given her. Maggie then got back on the phone, and called her sons.


	81. "He was a good friend. A redwood among mere sprouts."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doggett worries about Scully, and Monica tries to look after her. The Lone Gunmen learn of Mulder's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JJ Heller – “Someday”
> 
> One day you'll feel the sun  
> Warming your callused skin  
> The ropes will come undone  
> No more wars left to win
> 
> Someday, my dearest friend  
> Someday, though I don't know when  
> Ooh you will live in peace
> 
> Your battered heart will soar  
> Your wounds turned into wings  
> No one will keep the score  
> You wouldn't care anyway
> 
> Someday, my dearest friend  
> Someday, though I don't know when  
> Ooh you will live in peace
> 
> May you see redemption  
> On this side of heaven  
> May you see redemption  
> On this side of heaven  
> May you see redemption  
> On this side of heaven  
> My friend
> 
> Someday, my dearest friend  
> Someday, though I don't know when  
> Ooh you will live
> 
> Someday, my dearest friend  
> Someday, though I don't know when  
> Ooh you will live in peace

It was nearly 7:00 am on Monday, July 31st, and Agent Doggett was once again sitting on the bench against the wall outside the double doors leading to the morgue in St. Jean’s Hospital in Helena, Montana. He’d just arrived from the ordeal out on Absalom’s farm. But this time he wasn’t sitting alone. Agent Scully was sitting next to him, staring at nothing. She was pale, her eyes were bloodshot, and her swollen ankles were resting on a chair that Doggett had pulled over from the opposite wall. In one of the rooms behind them, the body of Fox Mulder was being cleaned as much as possible before it would be given a white toe tag with a ‘Mulder, F. W.’ label, returned to the black cadaver bag, and then finally inserted into a cold stainless steel drawer.

To Doggett’s surprise, Mulder’s body wasn’t remaining there at the hospital for an autopsy, nor was it being shipped to Quantico. In the morning, the body was going to be sent to a mortician in Raleigh, North Carolina. Even Skinner had questioned burying Mulder without an autopsy, without learning more about what had happened to him. Teresa Hoese no longer displayed any signs that she’d suffered at all, and despite learning Gary Cory’s cause of death, they hadn't found any evidence on the video tape footage or anything else at Absalom's farm that could shed some light on how exactly his injuries came about. None of the other members of the UFO cult showed any signs of abuse, other than obvious symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

But Scully firmly stated that in Mulder’s end-of-life advanced directive, copies of which could be found both at his apartment and hers, he adamantly opposed an autopsy, and as the executor of his will she was going to honor his wishes. However, she’d only managed to say this when she’d gotten control of her breathing enough to speak, as the mention of the word autopsy had sent her crumbling again into hoarse, gasping sobs. Doggett had sat there beside her, his right hand on her upper back, his head lowered as if his regret and guilt were made of lead, closing his eyes and setting his jaw against the pain he himself was feeling.

They then sat together for some time in heavy, sad silence until Doggett looked up to see AD Skinner and Monica Reyes approaching. He felt slightly relieved, wanting to get up off the bench and stretch his legs. He stood up to greet them, but Scully made no acknowledgment of their presence, still staring blankly at the wall across from her. Monica nodded and said hello to Doggett before walking around him to sit down next to Scully.

“How is she doing?” Skinner asked in a low voice.

“She’s… I don’t know,” whispered Doggett, his hands on his hips, shaking his head.

Monica turned to look at them. “Why don’t you two go get some coffee?”

Doggett looked at her, noticing her pointed expression. “Uh, yeah… I could really use some coffee. Agent Scully, do you want anything?”

She sighed, closing her eyes, and he immediately regretted asking her that question. God, what an asshole. Of course Scully wanted something. She wanted her partner back. She wanted her lover back. She wanted Mulder’s hands on her belly as she told him he was going to be a father. She wanted them all to go away so she could walk into that morgue and climb in the steel drawer with him and die. But of course all of that was what she would never say out loud.

Scully opened her eyes, and Doggett saw they were once again shiny and wet, saw her chin quiver. She was on the verge of crumbling again and trying hard to fight it, her staunch professionalism and strict military upbringing clashing with the raw pain of her grief. He wasn’t sure what to do, and even Skinner seemed at a loss. Scully was always so in command, in control, in full battle armor. But the grieving woman in front of them was someone they didn’t recognize. It scared them, and they didn’t know what they could do to help her. Doggett bitterly remembered that he hadn't even been able to help his own wife, a woman he'd known for 12 years at the time of his son's death, so he certainly didn't know how he could possibly help Agent Scully.

Doggett walked back over to stand in front of the bench and crouched down to face Scully and Agent Reyes, putting his hand on the arm of the chair which held his partner’s tired feet. “Monica, can you take Agent Scully back to her motel room?”

“What?” Scully replied, startled. “I’m not leaving him alone.”

“Agent Scully, you’ve been awake for 24 hours,” he said. “You need to get some sleep.”

But she only shook her head defiantly. Doggett turned to look at Monica and gave a tilt of his head, motioning her to leave him and Scully alone. She looked from him to Scully, before nodding and getting up from the bench, walking over towards Skinner, where they turned their backs on Doggett and Scully.

“Listen to me,” Doggett whispered imploringly as Scully averted her eyes. “You need to rest.” He thought back to the scene just over an hour earlier, of the coroner zipping the black body bag closed and Scully suddenly reeling, hurriedly turning away to retch, emptying her stomach of what little she’d eaten that day. “You’ve been through so much in very little time, and your body needs to rest. Your mind needs to rest... Your baby needs you to rest.”

She turned to look at him, tears brimming over.

“That’s Mulder’s son you’ve got to take care of,” he continued, keeping his voice at a whisper. “Please go back to the motel with Monica. No one is going to leave him alone. Either myself or AD Skinner is gonna stay right outside these doors at all times. Okay?”

Scully acquiesced, nodding silently, and withdrew her legs from the chair, before standing up. Doggett then walked over to Monica, telling her quietly that his partner wasn’t to be left alone in her motel room. Scully then joined them, and after Doggett told her to make sure she got something to eat and drink, he watched her and Monica walk away.

Later, Doggett returned to the bench carrying two cups of hot coffee, handing one to Skinner before he sat down. They drank in silence for a couple minutes. Skinner leaned over, his elbows on his knees, and stared into his cup. “I was just 20 feet away from him when it happened. He was right there. I looked down, and then he was gone. Just like that.” He sighed, shaking his head. “She trusted me to go in her place, to protect him just as well as she would have. But I couldn’t stop them from taking him. I failed.”

“Sir, I know what it’s like to be in command, to be responsible for the lives of others,” Doggett said. “We’ve both experienced unfortunate events where the men and women under our command went down, even though it was our duty to do everything in our power to keep them out of harm’s way. It happens. Those are the risks we take, the risks every FBI agent takes. And Mulder knew the risks involved with going out into the field, probably better than anyone.” He suddenly wished Monica was around. She knew how to talk about this stuff better than he did. He at least hoped she was doing his partner some good. “Agent Scully doesn’t blame you for what happened, sir.”

Skinner sighed. “I wish she would.”

Doggett had no idea what to say to that. His mind once again returned to his partner, wondering if Monica had gotten her to eat something, wondering if she’d been able to fall asleep. “Uh, sir… do you think we should have a doctor check out Agent Scully?”

“A doctor?” Skinner replied, giving him a puzzled look.

“Yeah, just to be on the safe side,” said Doggett. “I mean, this kind of emotional stress… you know the harm it can do.”

Skinner took another sip of his coffee, grimacing over its quality. “Disgusting,” he breathed. “Well, I guess we can keep it in mind. But Agent Scully is a doctor herself, and she has enough sense to know when she needs medical attention.”

Doggett nodded in agreement, but this still didn’t stop him from worrying. He leaned back on the bench, resting his head against the wall, and sighed.

“John, why don’t you go back to the motel yourself. Get some rest. I’ll stay here for a while. You can relieve me later after you’ve gotten some sleep.”

“I’m going to stay right here with you,” he replied.

Skinner looked at him and spoke firmly. “Agent Doggett, that’s an order.”

Doggett sighed, staring at his boss, before standing up from the bench and tossing his half-empty styrofoam cup into the trash can against the wall. With one last glance at the double doors leading to the morgue that now held the body of Special Agent Fox Mulder, he turned and walked down the corridor to the elevators, departing St. Jean’s Hospital for the nearby Motel 6 on North Oregon Street.

*****

Scully was screaming. Monica jerked awake in the motel room where she’d fallen asleep in the corner chair, her feet propped up on a small ottoman. She rushed to Scully’s bedside, gently grasping her shoulders. The clock on the bedside table told her it was 2:52 on Monday afternoon, and so thankfully Scully had been able to sleep for six hours.

“Agent Scully,” she said, her voice filled with worry.

She woke up, gasping, her eyes searching her surroundings, and upon making eye contact with Monica, Scully burst into tears and rolled over into the fetal position. The nightmare she’d had was the worst one yet, a vivid flashback to Mulder’s ruined face in that cold metal chair, holes along his cheeks, and so cruelly different from his normally strong, intelligent features. They’d held his face while they drilled his palate, they cut open his chest, his gut. He lay there awake and terrified, held down by force with screws drilled into his wrists and ankles, watching as they mutilated his flesh. He’d screamed, crying out for her, and he’d died with her name on his lips, begging for her.

Monica brushed Scully’s hair back from her face as she continued to cry. “Agent Scully… I can’t possibly know what you’re going through, but this isn’t good for you… and for your baby.”

“Did Agent Doggett tell you?” she choked, turning to her head to look up at Monica.

“No, he didn’t.” Agent Reyes sat down on the bed next to Scully, grabbing some tissues from the box on the bedside table. “I just sensed it. I knew why you wanted so badly to find Agent Mulder alive.”

Scully let out a shuddering sigh, trying to catch her breath. “He didn’t know about the baby. I didn’t even know myself. I felt sick, but I didn’t really know why. I never suspected. And I didn’t find out until after he…” Her voice broke, and fresh tears filled her eyes.

Monica sighed, and felt tears prick her own eyes. “Agent Scully, of course he didn’t know. He never would’ve left you if he had known.” She sighed again. “And I’m sorry. I know how hurt you were when I put my cult theory out there. He never would’ve left you. Assistant Director Skinner told me as much.”

“I know,” Scully said, attempting to wipe the tears from her face with the tissues Monica had given her. “He would’ve stayed. I wanted to go with him, but he was always trying to protect me. Even when I didn’t want him to. But he always felt so guilty about… what happened to me. The abduction… and the tests.”

“What?” asked Monica, her eyes widening.

She sighed. “I was abducted almost six years ago. Tests were done on me. I still don’t know exactly what. I was missing for weeks. It’s what caused my bout with cancer, and my infertility.” She chewed her bottom lip, tears filling her eyes again. “But I was returned. I survived. I wish I knew why this happened to him. I just... I can’t believe it.”

Monica wanted to keep her calm, to keep her talking with inane conversation. “If the tests caused infertility, how did you get pregnant?”

“I… I don’t know,” replied Scully. “I mean, it should’ve been physically impossible. I don’t have an explanation. Maybe it was just a simple answer to our prayers, but I don’t know. I wish I could believe that.” She sighed. “Mulder would believe.”

“Do you think he would’ve wanted a boy or a girl?” Monica asked, smiling.

Scully sat up on the bed, sighing. “We never talked about it. But we never talked about a lot of things.” She looked down at her hands in her lap. “I guess we didn’t really need to. He would’ve liked to have a daughter, I think. And he would’ve spoiled her rotten. I’m actually going to have a boy, though. I already found out.” She then chuckled. “Mulder probably would’ve gotten alien wallpaper for the nursery and read _War of the Worlds_ to him as a bedtime story.”

Monica laughed.

“Whether it was a boy or a girl, he would’ve been so happy,” she said, and started to cry again. Monica sighed, giving her a sympathetic look. She wished there was something she could do or say to take away Agent Scully’s pain, something she could say to give her hope.

“How about you take a hot bath and I’ll order some food for us,” said Monica, moving off the bed. “Not much delivers around here. Chinese or pizza, I guess.”

Scully sighed, following Agent Reyes to stand up next to the bed. She was starting to feel numb, and wondered if shock was setting in. A bath did sound good to her. But she had no appetite. “I don’t care. I can’t eat.”

Monica reached out and carefully grasped her arm. “I know you don’t want to, but you need to.” She glanced down at Scully’s abdomen, watched as her hand moved to caress her belly. Monica had managed to get a glass of milk and a banana down her earlier that morning when they'd arrived back at the motel, but that wasn't very much. Scully nodded her head in agreement, and after grabbing her duffel bag, walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

*****

Byers was sitting at his computer late on Monday afternoon, July 31st, proofreading an article he’d written for their upcoming newsletter, when his AOL alert dinged “You’ve got mail!”, the sound fighting to be heard over the other various noises that filled the Lone Gunmen’s office. Langly sat on the couch in front of the television, gripping his Nintendo 64 video game controller, staring at the onscreen images of _Perfect Dark_ with tense concentration.

“Come on!” Langly yelled at the television.

“What are you doing?” demanded Frohike, entering the room from the kitchen, where he’d been preparing to start cooking dinner. “Do you have to shout at the TV like a maniac?”

Sighing, Byers shook his head at his arguing friends and returned his attention to the computer screen. He clicked open his AOL account and saw the new email he’d gotten was from Aaron Horvath, president of the Montana MUFON. Byers quickly opened it. He stared at the monitor in shock.

“Frohike. Langly.”

A heavy silence fell over the room as they turned to look at Byers, staring at the computer, frozen and pale.

“What is it?” Langly asked.

“Get over here,” replied Byers in a low voice, turning to look at them.

Their stomachs knotting over Byers’ countenance and serious tone, knowing whatever news he had couldn’t be good, they exchanged ominous looks before they walked across the room to stand behind him. Byers simply pointed to the computer monitor.

“Dear Comrades,

This is a heartbreaking day for the MUFON community and we are all in mourning. We’d like to send you our sincerest condolences. Please tell Agent Scully that our thoughts are also with her at this sad time.

Sincerely,

Aaron Horvath  
Montana Mutual UFO Network, President  
a.horvath@mufon.com  
(406) 555 - 2289  
1260 Lime Kiln Rd, Helena MT 59601”

The three friends stared speechless at the monitor, blinking, unable to believe what they were reading. Frohike glanced to the top of the message. “There’s an attachment,” he whispered.

With a trembling hand, Byers moved the mouse to click on the attachment link, a video file with “12oclocknews” as the filename. With sinking hearts and knotted stomachs, they waited silently for the video to download. Just two minutes later, a small window came up on the screen showing a pretty blonde woman in her late 20’s or early 30’s standing on a city street in front of a large building, dressed in a business suit with microphone in hand, and then the video began to play.

“The body of an FBI agent was found early this morning on a farm outside the town of Deer Lodge, just an hour west of Helena. Special Agent Fox Mulder of Alexandria, Virginia was found by a joint task force of federal agents from the FBI’s Salt Lake City field office as well as their Washington, D.C. headquarters. Agent Mulder went missing from Bellefleur, Oregon on May 30th of this year while working an assignment. The nature of that assignment has not been released to the press. This is the third missing person from Oregon to be found in the past week in rural areas outside Helena. Mrs. Teresa Hoese, age 28, of Bellefleur is currently admitted in St. Jean’s Hospital and is expected to make a full recovery from her injuries, which remain unknown. Mr. Gary Cory, age 19, also of Bellefleur, Oregon, was pronounced dead on the scene when his body was discovered on Saturday night. His cause of death also remains unknown. Calls to the FBI’s satellite office here in Helena confirmed that the investigation into the disappearances of these individuals from Oregon is still on-going. Our calls to FBI headquarters in Washington have not yet been returned.”

They couldn’t believe what they’d just heard. Along with the woman’s report, the video contained images, including pictures of Mulder, Teresa, and Gary, footage of a rural field, and a clip of Scully, Agent Doggett, and Skinner entering a hospital that looked awfully similar to the building behind where the reporter was standing.

Frohike reached down to pause the video, and they stared at the image of Agent Doggett’s hand bracing Scully’s upper back, as if that action would help keep her upright. Only those who knew her well would notice her slumped shoulders, the blank expression on her face, the fact she didn’t walk with her usual stride of command and purpose. For the Gunmen, seeing Scully in such a state made the report real, made it believable.

“We have to call her,” Frohike said, his voice breaking.

Byers and Langly felt sick with grief for their friend, and worried for Agent Scully, but they weren’t sure whether their phone call would be welcomed right now. However, they didn’t voice any objections as Frohike picked up the receiver and dialed Scully’s cell phone. After several rings, a woman’s voice answered, but it wasn’t the woman he’d been expecting.

“Hello?”

“Who is this?” Frohike asked.

Langly pressed the speakerphone button and took the receiver, hanging it up.

“Agent Reyes. Who is this?”

“Frohike.”

“And Langly.”

“My name is Byers. I’m on the line as well.”

Frohike sighed. “Okay, okay. So we’re all here.” He gave his companions an exasperated look before turning to lean over the phone. “Where’s Agent Scully?”

A long pause. “Um… she’s unavailable. What do you want with her?”

“Listen here, G-woman,” Frohike said heatedly. “She’s our friend and we need to talk to her right away. Where is she?! What have you done with her?!”

“Agent Scully is fine,” Monica said, feeling somewhat amused by this. “She’s taking a bath right now. Are you… calling about Agent Mulder?”

“Yes,” the Gunmen answered in unison.

She sighed. “How much have you heard about it?”

Byers leaned forward. “Only what the news is saying. We haven’t had time to hack into the FBI’s reports yet.”

“What was that?” Monica asked, but as the men didn’t clarify she continued. “Well, then you know pretty much everything regarding Agent Mulder… Was he your friend too?”

The Gunmen exchanged sad looks, before averting their eyes.

Monica sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“What did they do to him?” asked Langly.

“Agent Mulder’s injuries were similar to Teresa Hoese and Gary Cory,” she replied. “Like someone or… something… was experimenting on them. Agent Scully performed an autopsy on Mr. Cory, and so we know just how severe the abductees were treated. She’s refusing to allow an autopsy on Agent Mulder, though. But it probably wouldn’t even tell us anything different from the Cory autopsy.”

They were trying hard not imagine just what terrible things had been done to their friend. “Mulder didn’t want to be cut up,” Frohike stated.

“But the news said Teresa Hoese is going to make a full recovery,” said Langly. “Why did she turn out okay but not Mulder?”

“That I don’t know,” Monica replied. “Agent Scully said that a man named Jeremiah Smith was out there, and that he healed her.”

The Gunmen stared at each other, eyes widening. “Jeremiah Smith is there?” asked Byers emphatically. “Well, then he can heal Mulder too!”

Monica paused. “Do you know this man?”

“He’s not a man,” Frohike said.

“He’s an alien,” added Langly.

Byers cleared his throat. “That’s according to Agent Mulder, anyways.”

She let out a deep sigh. “Well, that’s explains some things. There was a ship… and I guess this Jeremiah Smith disappeared. Absalom, a UFO cult leader, claimed an alien invasion was starting and he was was working against it with Jeremiah Smith.”

“You had a close encounter?” Langly asked. “Wait… so you believe in aliens?”

“Um…,” Monica hesitated. “I wasn’t a disbeliever. But after everything I’ve seen over the past couple days… I mean, you wouldn’t believe it.”

The Gunmen exchanged glances. “Try us,” said Byers. Langly leaned over the phone. “What was your name again?”

“Monica Reyes.”

“And… you’re an FBI agent?” Langly asked, raising his eyebrows at his friends.

She snorted. “Yes, yes I am.”

“In Washington?” asked Byers.

“No, New Orleans.”

Frohike looked at his friends, anger and indignation filling his knotted stomach. “But why would Jeremiah Smith heal Teresa Hoese but not Mulder?! How could he do that to him?!”

“No one knows the answer to that question,” said Monica. “No one wants to even ask that question. We’re just trying to hold it together here for Agent Scully’s sake.”

The Gunmen fell silent. Over the years, they’d all seen Mulder fall apart, dying inside whenever she was harmed, whenever she’d come close to death herself. He’d been an absolute wreck those weeks when she was abducted, occasionally spending nights on their lumpy couch, drowning himself in vodka or scotch. Although Scully was usually much more stoic than Mulder, and hid her feelings well, they knew she must feel the same way inside whenever she’d come close to losing her partner. And now he was dead. They couldn’t begin to imagine how this was tearing her apart.

“How is she doing?” Byers asked hesitantly.

“I guess she’d doing as well as could be expected,” replied Monica.

Frohike sighed. “So not well at all.”

Langly sniffled and looked down at his shoes, his eyes stinging with tears as the reality of losing their friend began to sink in.

“We’re taking care of her as well as we can,” she said. “But I think Agent Doggett wants to send her home. We’ll be staying on here for a few days longer, though.”

“How is Agent Doggett handling everything?” asked Byers.

Monica sighed. “He’s doing the best he can under the circumstances. This case is a real confused mess. And he usually keeps things pretty close to the chest, but I know he’s hurting deeply for her.”

The Gunmen once again fell silent. They’d had a hard time accepting the fact that Doggett was working the X-Files, had replaced Mulder as Agent Scully’s partner. But from the video they’d just watched, with Doggett’s protective arm on Scully’s back, and from his determinedness to find Mulder, they knew they could trust him to watch out for Scully. Then Frohike leaned closer to the phone. “Can you ask Agent Doggett to keep us updated… you know, in case anything else turns up out there?”

“I thought you guys were going to hack into the FBI’s reports?” asked Monica, a hint of amusement in her tone.

“Oh, we’re gonna do that too,” Langly said.

She snorted. “I’ll give Agent Doggett the message. And thanks for calling.”

They listened to the sound of the dial tone for a second before Byers reached over and hung up the call, before sitting back in his chair, reality hitting him like a lead weight. “He’s gone. Mulder’s… Mulder’s dead.”

“I can’t believe it,” Langly choked, tears welling up in his eyes.

Silence filled the room, and they each retreated to their respective computers, their shock fading into numb grief. Langly’s video game was long forgotten. Byers closed down his email. They were going to start the next issue of _The Lone Gunman_ over from scratch. The next issue would be devoted to Mulder and his work with Agent Scully. It would be devoted to the truth he fought so hard to uncover, and it would serve as a warning that evil times were upon them all if the brutal death of Agent Mulder was any indication.

Frohike watched his two friends, still trying to come to terms with the fact of Mulder’s death. It seemed unreal. Mulder had always been able to get himself out of the most dire of situations, either by dumb luck or with Scully’s perfectly-timed aid. But he didn’t make it out of this one okay. Frohike thought of the cruel irony, that this would be the time Mulder couldn’t find his way out, when there was so much more at stake. The Gunmen all suspected he was the father of Scully’s baby, although they certainly never asked her about it. And so Mulder not only left Scully behind, but his child as well. He left behind so many unanswered questions.

The Lone Gunmen worked on the new issue of the newsletter, working hard to stifle their tears and the dull ache that had settled in their chests. The Gunmen momentarily looked up from their computer monitors, exchanging glances, looks of determination. They may not have been able to find Mulder alive, but they were determined to preserve Mulder’s devotion to the truth, to keep his memory alive. They were going to keep going, keep working to uncover the secrets and lies fed to the public, work hard to stay true to their shared ideals. And they were going to do everything they could to take care of Scully, and her baby. It was the very least they could do for their fallen comrade.


	82. "I had the strength of your beliefs."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Scully family gathers together at a time of loss. Mulder's obituary is published and a memorial service is held for him in Raleigh, North Carolina. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from the episode "DeadAlive" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ellie Goulding – “All I Want” (Kodaline)
> 
> All I want is nothing more  
> To hear you knocking at my door  
> 'Cause if I could see your face once more  
> I could die a happy woman I'm sure
> 
> When you said your last goodbye  
> I died a little bit inside  
> I lay in tears in bed all night  
> Alone without you by my side
> 
> But if you loved me  
> Why'd you leave me?  
> Take my body  
> Take my body  
> All I want is  
> And all I need is  
> To find somebody  
> I'll find somebody like you
> 
> So you brought out the best of me  
> A part of me I'd never seen  
> You took my soul and wiped it clean  
> Our love was made for movie screens
> 
> But if you loved me  
> Why'd you leave me?  
> Take my body  
> Take my body  
> All I want is  
> And all I need is  
> To find somebody  
> I'll find somebody
> 
> If you loved me  
> Why'd you leave me?  
> Take my body  
> Take my body  
> All I want is  
> All I need is  
> To find somebody  
> I'll find somebody like you

Scully didn’t really remember how she had gotten home that day. She thought it might’ve been Agent Doggett who drove her to the airport, or maybe it was Skinner. It was all a fog. She couldn’t remember anything that might’ve been said to her in the car, or when they parted company at the airport. She had no memory of the flight back to Washington, nor of disembarking the plane. But when she walked towards the Arrivals doors, trying to think whether her car was there or if she should get in a taxi, she was waylaid by her mother and brothers. She couldn’t remember whether anything was spoken between them. Someone grabbed her duffel bag, but she wasn’t sure whether it was Charlie or Bill Jr. She remembered her mother wrapping her arms around her and walking her through the doors to the afternoon’s oppressively humid summer air, and into the cool back seat of a waiting car on the curb. She remembered laying her head on her mother’s shoulder and closing her eyes.

Suddenly there was someone shaking her awake, saying her name in a pleading tone. Scully opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. She was clearly in her mother’s bedroom, with Jennifer and Tara standing over her on the bedside.

“Dana, are you okay?” Tara asked, tucking her short blond hair behind her ear.

“You were screaming,” said Jennifer.

Scully blinked herself fully awake, trying to register the fact that her two sisters-in-law were standing there staring down at her. She might’ve been screaming. She thought she might’ve been having another horrific nightmare, but the details had now faded and she couldn’t remember. Scully looked at the concerned faces of the women next to her, but to open her mouth to speak was too painful. She merely turned over to lie on her other side, putting her back to them, and closing her eyes, succumbed to darkness once more.

After some time had passed, Scully felt another pair of hands on her, pulling her out of unconsciousness. She opened her eyes and turned to see her mother standing over her.

“Dana, honey, sit up,” she said.

She sighed, but obeyed her mother’s command, sitting up and allowing her mother to help her scoot backwards to sit back against the pillows. Maggie then sat down on the bed next to her, and leaned over to grab the bowl she’d set down on the side table.

“You need to eat something,” said Maggie. “And I’ve made my famous chicken soup. You know it cures everything. I don’t care what Fox said about that chip the doctor put back in your neck. I’m pretty sure it was my soup that saved your life.”

Scully attempted to smile, but even failed at a halfhearted one. But she obediently sat as her mother brought the spoon to her mouth, accepted the food without complaint or protest. The last time she’d allowed her mother to take care of her this way was when she was in the hospital, dying of cancer. The hot soup warmed her insides, and proved to be comforting. Scully finished the entire bowl. As Maggie was getting up off the bed, Jennifer walked in the room, clad in blue jeans and pink tank top, carrying a glass of water. She sat in the spot on the bed which her mother-in-law had just vacated, and put two prenatal vitamins into Scully’s hand.

“Drink,” Jennifer ordered, handing Scully the glass of water and tossing her long light brown hair behind her back.

She took the vitamins, swallowing them down with the water. As Maggie started to leave the bedroom, Scully spoke for the first time since leaving Montana.

“Thanks, Mom,” she said. Maggie smiled, and then left the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Scully heaved a deep sigh, and then looked at her sister-in-law. “Why are Bill and Tara here?”

Jennifer gave her a puzzled look. “What do you mean? They’re here to show their support during a family crisis.”

“Bill Jr hates Mulder,” replied Scully, looking down at her entwined hands. “I can’t see him thinking that… this… constitutes a crisis.”

“Well…,” said Jennifer, slightly smirking. “I believe Mom told him that if he didn’t get on the next plane to Washington, she would disown him.”

Scully snorted, but then looked up into the kind green eyes staring back at her. “Mulder’s dead.”

Jennifer sighed, and took Scully’s hand in hers. “I know.”

“I have to let people know about the funeral,” she said, sighing. “Well, it won’t be a funeral. He didn’t want one. Just a short graveside service.”

“Where?” asked Jennifer. “Here in Alexandria? Or up north? He grew up in New England, right?”

Scully nodded. “Yeah, he did. But his mother was born and raised in North Carolina, and that’s where the family plot is. So the service will be down there. I have to call the funeral director. I think we set up the service for the first Saturday in August. What time is it? What day is it?”

Jennifer glanced at the clock on the far wall of the bedroom. “It’s almost 11:00 am on Wednesday, August 2nd. You’ve been here since Tuesday afternoon. Your flight got in at 3:45, just a couple hours after Bill and Tara arrived. Charlie, Mom, and Bill picked you up while Tara and I stayed here with Mathew and the twins, and Hannah. Ben and Jack are staying with my parents.”

“There are things that need to be done,” Scully said. She started to move, Jennifer getting off the bed, and Scully stood up. She had no memory of getting undressed and into pajamas. She also had no memory of entering her mother’s house, walking up the stairs, and getting into her mother’s bed. She sighed, and after grabbing her duffel bag from the corner of the room, she made her way into the hallway bathroom to take a shower.

*****

On Thursday, August 3rd, the obituary of Fox Mulder ran in _The Washington Post, The New York Times,_ and _The Vineyard Gazette_. Upon receiving a phone call from Scully on Wednesday, the Lone Gunmen gathered in her mother’s kitchen, where the four of them sat huddled around the circular table constructing the short announcement. Her family hovered in the living room, occasionally glancing into the kitchen, wondering who exactly these strange characters were, other than the vague explanation of ‘Mulder’s friends’ they got from Scully.

The family sat around Maggie’s living room, each taking their turn reading the obituary in her copy of _The Washington Post_ that arrived on her porch on early Thursday afternoon.

“Alexandria, VA – Fox Mulder would like you all to know that his work here is done. He received an assignment, the kind of offer one can’t refuse, and from which he will not be returning. His new quest takes him to a wonderful place and the assignment comes with some major bonuses, like a reunion with family members he has not seen in a long time and a guaranteed limitless supply of sunflower seeds. However, he left detailed instructions for friends and loved ones to continue his mission here, to keep fighting the good fight. Failing to adhere to this instruction will not be tolerated.

Mulder was born in Chilmark, MA on October 13, 1961. He received his bachelor’s degree in sociology from New York University in 1983 and a master’s degree in psychology from Oxford University in 1986. After graduating from the FBI National Academy in October 1986, he worked tirelessly as a special agent right up to the very end. His life and his work made a huge difference in the lives of many.

He was predeceased in death by his father, William Mulder of Boston, MA, his mother, Teena Mulder (nee Kuipers) of Raleigh, NC, and his beloved sister, Samantha Mulder of Chilmark, MA. He is survived by his partner of seven years, Dana Scully of Washington, D.C., and several fish.

We will remember his smile, his warmth, his energy, his intelligence, his stubbornness, and his unmatched dry wit. We will remember his love of the Yankees, the Knicks, _Plan 9 from Outer Space_ , and greasy diner food, his hatred of insects, the Ice Capades, and Martha Stewart. In no particular order. We will remember his unwavering devotion to the pursuit of truth and justice.

Mulder finally is at rest, but we hold him close in our hearts. Please keep his memory alive in your minds and spirits. Please remember the meaning of this tragedy. He would want us all to find the courage within ourselves, within our society, to search for the answers that seemingly allude us. The truth is out there. Instead of flowers or cards, Mulder would hope that you will donate to the Mutual UFO Network, a non-profit, unbiased, and scientifically-based organization devoted to the investigation and research of the UFO phenomenon.

A graveside memorial service will take place on Saturday, August 5th, at 1:00 pm, at Oakwood Cemetery, 701 Oakwood Avenue, Raleigh, North Carolina.”

Bill Scully Jr closed the newspaper and handed it off to his wife, sighing. After Tara finished reading it, she folded the paper and placed it on the couch next to her.

“Dana, you didn’t mention anything about the baby,” Tara said.

“What do you mean?” asked Scully, who was sitting on the loveseat with Jennifer.

Tara picked up the folded paper, her eyes skimming over the obituary. “It says Mulder is survived by you and some fish. But not his unborn child.”

Bill Jr scoffed and stood up from the couch, walking away into the kitchen. Tara, Jennifer, Maggie, and Scully all exchanged glances and sighed. Apparently, on Tuesday evening the rest of the family informed Bill Jr of Scully’s pregnancy, convincing him of just how tragic Mulder’s death was after he’d made a snide comment of the family overreacting to the death of Scully’s ‘co-worker.’ He then became quite heated at being left out of the loop, of the family not telling him about this until now, before ranting about ‘that son of a bitch’ chasing after UFOs and getting himself killed when there was a baby on the way, forcing his little sister to now be a single mother. Scully felt thankful she’d slept through all of that and only had to listen to Jennifer's account of events.

On Wednesday afternoon, after Scully finally descended the stairs of her mother’s house and joined the rest of the family, Bill Jr didn’t say much to her other than asking how she was doing. After spending an hour with the Gunmen at the kitchen table, the obituary was sent in for publication. Before they left the house, she asked them to swing by Mulder’s apartment and feed his fish. She couldn’t bring herself to go there, even though she knew the time was coming very soon when she would have to.

Also on Wednesday afternoon, she received a phone call from Skinner informing her that even though she had been put on forced bereavement leave from work for the rest of the week, he wanted her to submit a request form to use up some of her sick leave days so she could take off all of next week also. Scully gave a non-committal reply, and after she inquired of Agent Doggett’s well-being, Skinner ensuring her that he was doing all right, she quickly got off the phone with her boss.

While Bill Jr had been rather stony towards her, the rest of Scully’s family had done their best to take care of her for the past couple days. She cried herself to sleep at night, despite her mother's best efforts to soothe her. She occasionally woke up the entire house at night with her nightmares, sending concerned sisters-in-law running into the room where she was sharing a bed with her mother, or the living room when she'd fallen asleep on the couch in the afternoons, a worried-looking Charlie standing nearby and a grumbling Bill Jr, who no doubt also blamed these nightmares on Mulder. But other than her older brother, everyone else was genuinely saddened by Mulder’s death and equally happy about her pregnancy. They also worked hard to keep the television off the news channels, as the bizarre circumstances surrounding Mulder’s death and the other disappearances from Bellefleur, Oregon were making the rounds on the national news.

“Um… Tara, I just don’t feel comfortable making that public knowledge right now,” Scully told her sister-in-law. Jennifer and Charlie exchanged glances, and Maggie sighed. Scully knew it was only a matter of time, maybe just a week or two, before her pregnancy would start to really show, that there would be no way to hide it any longer. But to declare Mulder as the father in print, in widely-read news publications, didn’t seem like something she should do. She didn’t really know why, and certainly couldn’t explain it, but she felt a measure of fear regarding this. She still did not understand why Mulder had been taken, why those terrible things had been done to him, and her gut instincts told her not to broadcast the parentage of her baby.

*****

On Thursday evening, Bill Jr and Tara and their children boarded the 6:30 pm flight back to San Diego, Tara sincerely apologizing to Scully before they left the house for having to miss the graveside service for Mulder as Bill had to return to his duties at the naval base. Scully assured her that she understood and she thanked them for being there for her. Then after receiving a warm hug from Tara and a rather stiff goodbye from Bill Jr, Scully watched her brother, sister-in-law, nieces and nephew depart the house.

On Saturday morning, August 5th, Scully, Maggie, Charlie and Jennifer, and their three kids, piled into Jennifer’s minivan and took the four hour drive south to Raleigh. Scully planted herself in the far back seat, sitting between her nephews Ben and Jack. The boys leaned against her, Jack often taking her hand and giving her a squeeze. The drive to North Carolina proved to be rather quiet and subdued, and the family arrived at Oakwood Cemetery just before 11:30 am. There they met with the funeral director who had prepared Mulder’s body and had gotten the grave site ready for the service. They also met with the minister from the church Teena Mulder and her family had been parishioners of.

Over the next hour, mourners started to arrive at the cemetery, including the Lone Gunmen, Agent Doggett, Assistant Director Skinner, Deputy Director Kersh, Agent Danny Valladeo, Agent Sam Cole, US Marshal Joe Daddo, Michelle Generoo from NASA, and Chuck Burks as well as some individuals from the MUFON Board of Directors, whom Scully didn’t know. At one point before the service, she could have sworn she saw Alex Krycek watching from a distance, but when she looked back, after doing a double take, no one was there. Maybe she’d only imagined it.

At 1:00 pm, the minister began officiating the closed casket graveside service for Mulder. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. We are here to deliver the body of Fox Mulder to its resting place. We pray to God to deliver his soul and to resolve the deep mysteries Fox Mulder sought so tirelessly to uncover. Let us pray now for his eternal peace.”

A brief moment of silence ensued. Scully, dressed all in black, holding a white handkerchief in her hands as they clutched her belly, closed her eyes and prayed. Thirty minutes later, the service having ended and most of the mourners departed, the funeral director started the motor that began to lower Mulder’s coffin into the grave. He and the minister then quietly left. Scully and Skinner were the only ones remaining at the grave site.

Scully’s family had told her to take all the time she needed, and they’d be waiting for her at the minivan. The Lone Gunmen had given her hugs, and had walked away sniffling. Chuck Burks gave her his condolences as well as Agents Valladeo and Cole. To Scully’s surprise, Agent Cole’s eyes were watery and red, and his voice broke as he tried to tell her how sorry he was and how much he had really liked Mulder. Even Kersh, whom had shocked her just by showing up, told her he was sorry for her loss.

“He was the last,” Scully said, looking down at the grave. “His father and mother… his sister… all gone. I think the real tragedy… is that for all of his pain and searching… the truth that he worked so hard to find was never truly revealed to him.” Skinner looked down at her, listening to what she had to say as her voice began to break. “I can't truly believe that I'm really standing here.”

“I know,” he said softly. “And I don't truly believe that… Mulder's the last.”

Her face crumpled with emotion, fighting against breaking down, and she knelt down to pick up a handful of dirt, crumbling it over the coffin, which was now at the bottom of the grave. She then stood and turned her head into Skinner's chest, crying silently as her arms hung limply at her sides. He gently put his arms around her.

Scully knew Mulder had uncovered the truth about what had happened to his sister, the government conspiracy to conceal the existence of extraterrestrial life, the truths behind the government men who conducted experiments on innocent civilians in some deal with the devil they’d made with alien colonists to prepare for or postpone an alien invasion. Mulder died having these truths revealed to him in a way he never could’ve imagined. The tragedy was that for all his years of loneliness, the pain and loss he’d suffered over what happened to his family, his years of searching for answers that alluded him, he had died without learning the truth. The only truth humans could ever truly hope to find. That he was not alone, and for the rest of his life he would never be alone, because he was going to be a father. He was finally going to have a family again. But his life had been tragically cut short, before he could learn this truth, before he could learn that life’s greatest gift could never be found in the X-Files or in science or by searching the unknown. Life’s greatest truth was the ineffable mystery and extraordinary beauty of the human heart, and all that it can achieve.

After a few minutes, Skinner departed the grave site and left Scully a chance to be alone. This was the first time since she’d arrived in Montana over a week ago that she’d really been able to be alone. She knew it wasn’t good enough, but this was her chance to tell Mulder the things she wished she had told him before. They were alone now, with no one to intrude, and she so badly wanted to believe that he could hear her, wherever he was. If Scully had been given just one more chance, there were so many things she would tell Mulder if he were there with her.

She would tell Mulder how important he was to her, that he was everything to her. That he was the one person on the planet who knew her so well that she wouldn’t need to speak in order to be heard. She would tell him that the past seven years, although difficult and sometimes painful, were the best years of her life. That she could look back on those seven years, and despite the suffering and loss, she could look upon those memories with fondness because of him.

She would tell Mulder that she understood him completely. She understood why he was the way he was, his reasons for saying and doing the things he said and did, even if those things often drove her crazy with frustration. She would tell him that she understood why he had to go back to Oregon, and that what happened was not his fault, that nothing had ever been his fault. Not her abduction, her sister’s death, her cancer, her infertility, and the failed IVFs. None of it was his fault.

She would tell Mulder how much his friendship over the last seven years had meant to her. She would confess that over time, her devotion to the X-Files had become much more of a personal devotion to him rather than a commitment to the work. That his friendship and their occasional times of leisure, like when they held onto the same bat and he taught her how to hit a baseball, were just as fulfilling to her as chasing down monsters and uncovering government conspiracies. She would happily watch _Caddyshack_ with him again, or _Animal House_ or any other of the stupid movies he liked, and she would even let him put butter on the popcorn.

She would tell Mulder that she even missed his sometimes overbearing protection, his stubbornness, his irrationalism, his child-like willingness to believe, and also his smile, his laugh, his scent, his scratchy stubble. She would give anything to have him there, to have him call her at 4:00 am on a Saturday telling her to pack a bag and get to the airport. She’d do any autopsy he needed her to. She’d let him win any argument. If only he was there.

She would tell Mulder that she needed him. Really and truly needed him, which had never been something she thought she would ever say, had always been something she’d vowed to never say about any man. She’d tell him that she wished she hadn’t been so foolish for so long, that her fear hadn’t held her back from reaching out for happiness sooner.

She would tell Mulder that she believed. That she knew and understood that all the things he’d been so sure of over the years, had insisted were true, begging her to believe, she now knew he had been right all along. She wasn’t ashamed to admit it. He’d been right and she’d been wrong, had been too afraid to believe. But she wasn’t afraid to believe anymore.

She would tell Mulder that she was going to have a baby. That he was going to be a father. She didn’t know how anything could hold any meaning for her anymore, not her family, her work, and her dwindling friendships. She felt nothing but emptiness without him, and their baby was the only thing in her life that was keeping her head above the water.

She would tell Mulder that she loved him. That she’d loved him for years, but she still hadn’t been able to figure out when exactly she’d first realized this. Maybe when he’d been about to walk into that hospital in Fairfax to confront Pusher, maybe when she’d had that one night stand with Ed Jerse over not having a desk, maybe when she was fighting her cancer. But it didn’t matter when, or why, or how. That was impossible to answer. All that mattered was she loved him, and she knew that he loved her.

If only Mulder had been there, if she’d had one more chance to tell him all of these things. So instead, Scully stood over his grave and opened her heart, telling him everything she hadn’t had the chance to say before. She told him her hopes for their son, that he would be someone just like Mulder. That he would be his spitting image. She promised Mulder she would take their son to Yankees games and to see the Knicks, and she would encourage him to join the school sports teams like he had when he was young. She promised Mulder that from an early age she would introduce their son to _Star Trek_ and _Star Wars_ and all the other nerdy shit he was into.

Scully was able to crack a smile as she’d said that, imagining the look on Mulder’s face as she referred to his hobbies as ‘nerdy shit.’ But she’d cried as she told him how much she missed him every day. How hard it was to sleep at night without him. How terrifying her nightmares were. How scared she was to raise their son alone. How much she worried something would happen to their son. She’d cried as she angrily railed against the unfairness of it all. The unfairness of being left alone, of being forced to live without him. But she promised she would do her best to care for their son, to teach him all about his father, everything Mulder had done and accomplished, his passion, his brilliance, his sense of justice, his empathy and compassion, his goodness.

She had no idea how long she’d stood at Mulder’s grave, confessing her deepest thoughts and feelings, but eventually she had to force herself to walk away, to leave him behind. Scully rejoined her family and they soon departed North Carolina, and after another subdued four hour drive, they arrived back in Alexandria, Virginia on Saturday evening.


	83. “I need something to put my back up against.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully cleans out Mulder's apartment with the help of friends and loved ones. She then returns to work sooner than Doggett anticipated, but then she experiences some complications with her pregnancy. Both Doggett and Scully begrudgingly obey an unexpected directive from Kersh, which ends up setting fire to the FBI's rumor mill.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from the episodes "Via Negativa" and "Medusa" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. They were written by Frank Spotnitz, and they belong to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> Sidenote #1: Happy 51st birthday to Dana Scully! You're just as much a hot babe as you ever were. And speaking of which, I would've had this chapter finished much earlier if it hadn't been for the #ScullyThon on Twitter. But I thoroughly enjoyed myself. It was lots of fun.
> 
> Sidenote #2: I also could've updated sooner if I'd decided to end the chapter earlier, but I ended up putting everything into one large chapter instead of two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin & Will – “Address in the Stars”
> 
> I stumbled across your picture today  
> I could barely breath  
> The moment stopped me cold  
> Grabbed me like a thief  
> I dialed your number, but you wouldn't be there  
> I knew the whole time, but it's still not fair  
> I just wanted to hear your voice  
> I just needed to hear your voice
> 
> What do I do with all I need to say  
> So much I wanna tell you every day  
> Oh, it breaks my heart  
> I cry these tears in the dark  
> I write these letters to you  
> But they get lost in the blue  
> 'Cause there's no address in the stars
> 
> Now I'm drivin'  
> Through the pitch black dark  
> I'm screaming at the sky  
> Oh, cause it hurts so bad  
> Everybody tells me  
> Oh, all I need is time  
> Then the mornin' rolls in, and it hits me again  
> And that ain't nothin' but a lie
> 
> What do I do with all I need to say  
> So much I wanna tell you every day  
> Oh, it breaks my heart  
> I cry these tears in the dark  
> I write these letters to you  
> But they get lost in the blue  
> 'Cause there's no address in the stars
> 
> Without you here with me  
> I don't know what to do  
> I'd give anything  
> Just to talk to you  
> Oh, it breaks my heart  
> Oh, it breaks my heart  
> All I can do  
> Is write these letters to you  
> But there's no address in the stars

On Sunday, August 6th, after returning to her mother's house after attending Catholic Mass with her family at St. John’s Church in Alexandria, Scully called the Lone Gunmen and asked them to meet her at Mulder’s apartment. Leaving Ben, Jack, and six month old Hannah with Maggie, Scully and Jennifer drove across town to Hegal Place, Charlie following close behind in his truck.

Scully decided that the longer she put off dealing with Mulder’s apartment, the worse it was going to be when she finally did. It was best to get it over and done with as soon as possible. When Mulder had first gone missing, the Lone Gunmen had told her that they were going to pay up his rent through the summer months. And there would now be no need to send a check to Mulder’s landlord for September.

Just before 1:30 pm, the Gunmen arrived in their 1975 Volkswagen van, pulling up alongside the curb behind Charlie’s truck just as Scully and Jennifer were getting out of the silver minivan. Armed with large and small empty cardboard boxes, they entered Mulder’s apartment building and made their way to the fourth floor. Once they reached Apartment 42, Scully took out her key, and with a knotted stomach, unlocked the door.

The group worked quietly for the most part, hushed conversation kept short and to a minimum. Charlie and Jennifer took to the kitchen, boxing up Mulder’s dishware, cooking utensils, and non-perishable food items, and cleaning out the refrigerator. It wasn’t long before the cupboards were bare and the kitchen was spotless.

Scully and the Lone Gunmen started their work in the living room. Langly planted himself at Mulder’s desk, emptying out the drawers, occasionally asking Scully whether something held any importance or not. While she sat on the floor boxing up Mulder’s music, books, and movies, Scully often found herself staring at things around the living room as if in a daze, like at the large paintings on the walls. She wondered why she’d never asked Mulder where they had come from, who had purchased them, and what meaning they might’ve had for him.

One by one, the large items of Mulder’s living and dining rooms were carried out of the apartment by the Gunmen and Charlie. The desk was removed, the TV, the coffee table, dining table, chairs. As Charlie and Langly lifted the black leather couch, Scully watched with a sinking heart, her eyes filling with tears. That couch which held so many memories for her, memories from the past seven years that seemed to be flashing before her eyes. Days and nights spent on that couch together, filled with laughter and tears, harmony and discord, happiness and frustration, passion and anger, but mostly love. Even when there were tears and pain, or heated arguments, there was always love.

Finally, all of Mulder’s books, music CDs, and VHS tapes were packed away and ready to be hauled outside. Scully sat on the floor, cross-legged, feeling some confusion.

“Uh, guys…,” Scully said, the Lone Gunmen looking over at her from where they were removing the large paintings from the wall which at one time would’ve hung over the now-departed couch. “Some things are missing.”

“What things?” asked Byers.

She glanced into the boxes again, opened the drawers to Mulder’s entertainment center, before looking back at the Gunmen. “Um… some, uh… movies are missing from his video collection. I know he kept them in this bottom drawer, but they’re not there.”

The Gunmen exchanged glances. “You mean the porn?” Langly replied.

At this moment, Charlie and Jennifer walked through the opening from the foyer into the living room. Charlie glanced between Scully and the Lone Gunmen with a smirk.

Scully averted her eyes, clearing her throat. She couldn't think of any reason why they would be missing. “Uh, yeah… they’re gone. Every single tape.”

“He gave them to me,” said Frohike, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

“He did?” Scully asked, her eyes widened in surprise.

Frohike glanced at his two companions. “Yeah. This past Christmas. They arrived at the office in a box with a large red ribbon. He said he had no use for them anymore.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, and only nodded, before looking down at her lap. Scully had no idea that Mulder had surrendered his adult video collection, and that he had done so all those months ago. The ends of her mouth started to turn upward, and she found she was smiling to herself. When she looked up, her eyes fell on Mulder’s bedroom door. Her stomach knotted once again, and her heart started pounding. She had to bring herself to go in there.

“Um… why don’t you guys go take a break for a while,” Scully suggested. “Jennifer and I can pack up the bedroom.”

The Lone Gunmen exchanged glances, nodding, and after they grabbed the boxes Scully had packed up, Charlie helping them, the men walked out of the apartment.

“Dana, you don’t have to do this now,” Jennifer said quietly.

“Yes, I do,” replied Scully, her voice just above a whisper, still staring at the bedroom door.

Jennifer nodded, sighing, turning to grab some empty boxes from the foyer. Scully walked across the living room to stand in front of the door to Mulder’s bedroom. After taking a deep breath, she opened it. She felt like one half of a soul, torn, and desperately searching for her other half. A heart, which had been broken, longing to be fixed, longing to see him again, hear his voice again, hold him again, love him again. God, how she missed him. It was an ache that never went away.

While this had been Scully’s deepest fear, she never truly understood just what it would mean to live without Mulder. A part of her was sometimes still in denial, still unable to accept the fact of his death. This part of her still sometimes hoped that he would come walking through the door, that she would hear his voice on the line, calling her from whatever predicament he’d gotten himself into this time. This part of her still sometimes hoped that he’d jump out and surprise her, laugh that he’d finally one-upped her again. But she knew this would never happen. Her logical and practical brain knew that Mulder was gone and would never be back. But her heart wanted to believe, no matter how irrational and foolish.

The bedroom flooded her mind with even more memories than the couch, nights of discarded clothes, tangled arms and legs, tangled sheets, heavy breathing and whispered words of passion, silent promises made with no intentions of being broken. The night that had resulted in their son.

“Dana,” Jennifer said softly.

“I’m okay,” she breathed, wiping the tears from her face.

Jennifer sighed. “People say things like this get easier with time. But, you know, that’s probably bullshit. I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened to Charlie. At least I’d have my children, and they happen to look just like him. But now that I think of it, I don’t know whether that would be a blessing or a curse.”

Scully gave a smirking Jennifer a half smile, her hand instinctively caressing her belly. They then got to work. After unlocking the filing cabinets against the wall, Scully found an endless amount of paperwork, mostly case files he’d photocopied and stashed away in his apartment. The case files were all pertaining to his sister, the Cigarette Smoking Man and his Consortium, Scully’s abduction, her cancer, Emily, the Kurt Crawfords and Samantha clones, the dying MUFON women, the black virus, bees and corn crops, Cassandra Spender, the faceless rebels, the alien artifact and the ship in Africa. Unlike the original files back at their basement office, these files contained numerous notes in the margins, with questions and theories, evidence of the time Mulder had spent trying to put these puzzle pieces together.

She also found information on his parents’ death, their properties, stocks and bonds, paperwork from the family lawyer in Martha’s Vineyard. She found a copy of his last will and testament, which she also had a copy of back at her apartment. He’d last updated it after they’d learned of Samantha’s fate earlier in the year, the language of the will changed to reflect that no one would ever be able to come forward and claim to be his long-lost sister. Everything that had belonged to Mulder, and his family, now irrevocably belonged to Scully.

Emptying the closet and dresser drawers, boxing up Mulder’s clothes, proved to be the most difficult task. Tears unashamedly flowed as she and Jennifer folded up his suits, ties, jeans, and shirts, placing them into boxes. Everything smelled like Mulder, and Scully frequently had to stifle a sob, chewing hard on her bottom lip to stop herself from succumbing to her grief.

When she opened Mulder’s top dresser drawer, she found a flat, rectangular wooden chest. It was worn, and looked like something from another decade. Maybe the 70’s. She pulled it out and set it down on the bed. Upon opening the chest, her eyes widened, her heart pounded, butterflies filling her stomach, and she sat down on the bed, a small smile spreading on her face.

Inside the chest, sitting on top, was the magic puppet, made of burlap, that had been used on her in California by Peattie, when they worked the Wieder case. Scully wondered why Mulder had kept it. Probably for safe keeping, just in case, knowing him. She snorted and shook her head. She also found ticket stubs to Yankees games, pictures of Samantha, and some of Mulder when he’d been a boy. She found an old set of keys with a silver keychain that displayed the Camaro logo. A memory stirred. She remembered Mulder telling her that his father had bought him one such car for his 16th birthday, but she was having trouble remembering where they’d been when he’d told her that story. It was sometime after they’d returned from their weekend in San Diego. She had a sudden vision of a canopy bed with draped fuchsia fabric, and cringed.

She picked up a couple photographs, one of Holman Hardt and his wife Sheila, and their baby. It was a sweet picture. Underneath was a picture of Scully and Mulder sitting at the Kroner High School Reunion, under a large rainbow decoration. With a slight pang, Scully realized how much like Holman she had been, suppressing her feelings for Mulder out of fear. And Mulder, Sheila-like in his obliviousness to how she really felt about him. Or was it the other way around? Maybe they'd both been Holman or Sheila at some point over the course of their partnership. How foolish they had been. But Scully smiled sadly as she looked at the picture, at the expression on Mulder’s face as he gazed at her. She could see such tender devotion there.

Other items were in the box, which took Scully by some surprise. Like the note she’d left for him on her refrigerator when he’d been recovering from the tobacco beetle lung infection. It was such a simple thing, just telling him that she had to run to the store and she’d be back soon. But Mulder had kept it. She also found a hospital bracelet from his stay at King Edward VII Memorial Hospital in Bermuda. Why in the world had he kept that? She could only shake her head.

A red rose petal, dried and placed in a tiny plastic reclosable bag, was also in the box. Scully let out a small gasp. It was the rose petal she’d taken from the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. The one she later set on top of Mulder’s desk. The one she’d fiddled with while she sat there and told Mulder that not everything she did was about him.

_“This is my life.”_

_“Yes but it’s m…”_

Scully wondered what he was going to say, what Mulder would have said if he hadn’t stopped himself. And as she held the plastic-covered rose petal in her hand, she then started to wonder if that had been the moment. If that was the moment they both admitted to themselves how they truly felt about one another, deep down. And instead of this realization being one of happiness, with sunshine and rainbows and frolicking through a flowery meadow of love, they’d instead sat there in silence. In frustrated, hurt, angry, miserable silence.

She set the plastic bag down, and her widening eyes fell on something else inside the wooden chest, and she reached for it. A folded white place card, with ‘Mrs. Spooky’ written in black ink, in her handwriting. Emotion tugged at her heart, an ache deep in her chest, and her eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, Mulder…,” Scully said, barely above a whisper.

Eventually the bedroom was cleaned out of Mulder’s belongings, and the Lone Gunmen and Charlie returned to take apart the bed, the dressers, and filing cabinets, hauling them out to their vehicles. Mulder’s furniture was going to a storage unit the Gunmen had rented, his personal belongings, like his clothes and books, were going to Scully’s apartment.

Last, it was time to get Mulder’s fish tank. They transported the fish to a holding container, drained the tank of water, disassembled the tank, packing away the filter, pump, heater and accessories. The fish would have a new home in Georgetown. After stopping by the storage unit and unloading Mulder’s furniture, Scully thanked the Gunmen for everything and they parted company. Scully, along with Charlie and Jennifer, then went back to her mother’s house, where they ate a quiet dinner together. Following dinner, after wholeheartedly thanking her mother for everything, Scully collected her duffel bag, the boxes of Mulder’s clothes, books, movies, music, and important papers from Jennifer’s minivan, his fish and their tank, piled everything into Charlie’s truck, and he drove her back home to Georgetown.

Scully had left her apartment 10 days ago with the hope that Mulder was alive and she would be able to find him, bring him home. She entered her apartment on Sunday evening, feeling no hope at all. After spending her evening reassembling Mulder’s fish tank in her living room, she filled it with water and got the filter going. A couple hours later, just before midnight, she transferred the fish from their container to the tank.

After taking a pinch of their food and adding it to the tank, her eyes zeroed in on a Black Molly that clearly did not survive the journey to Georgetown. Scully sighed, grabbed the green aquarium net, and fished her out, before heading to the bathroom and flushing the dead fish. Mulder’s dead fish. She couldn’t even take care of that for him. How was she going to take care of his baby all by herself? She felt a lump grow in her throat, and she tried to fight the tears that were filling her eyes. Scully walked back out to the living room and sank down on the couch, head in her hands, tears streaming down her face.

*****

Other than the trip to North Carolina for the memorial service and the Sunday afternoon spent clearing out Mulder’s apartment, every day was proving to be the same for Scully. On Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday she woke to a few seconds of blissful unknowing, and then an agonizingly sharp pain ripped through her as she remembered. If she had her way, she’d never get out bed. She’d lie there and die of a broken heart. But after a few minutes of sobbing fresh tears anew, Scully would eventually latch on to the one good thing in her life, her one remaining hope: the child Mulder had given her.

A part of him was inside her, and she would have this part of him for the rest of her life. So she had to get out of bed every day. She had to shower and dress. She had to take her vitamins, and make sure she got enough to eat, make sure she drank enough water. It was painful and at times she wanted to give up, but Scully forced herself to get through each day.

Her mother, Jennifer, and Tara called her every day, her mother calling several times, to check up on her. She told them she was fine, that things were about as good as could be expected right now. But Scully could feel herself slipping into a depression. She had no way of busying herself when at home, no way of keeping her mind on things other than the fact Mulder was gone and he was never coming back. She wasn’t expected back at work until the following Wednesday, after having requested seven sick leave days per Skinner’s suggestion. How was she going to go another week with nothing other than her own thoughts to keep her company?

On Thursday morning, August 10th, Scully arrived at Capital Women’s Care on K Street in downtown D.C. to meet with her new OB, Dr. Riya Bajaj, who came highly recommended by both her regular gynecologist, Dr. Patricia Rausch, as well as her friend, and Quantico pathologist, Latoya Mahoney. The appointment was an emotional one, as Scully was unable to fight back the tears as she listened to her baby’s heartbeat and gazed at the monitor during the ultrasound.

Dr. Bajaj had nothing but good things to say during the ultrasound, pointing out that Scully was indeed going to have a boy. She assured Scully that everything appeared normal and healthy at 18 weeks. The doctor was also pleased with the latest blood work results, and Scully’s weight gain of eight pounds, while encouraging her to gain three more pounds by week 20 and one pound a week after that.

But Dr. Bajaj was concerned when Scully’s blood pressure was measured at 140/90. She mentioned to the doctor that she’d been having a difficult time lately, and so stress could be a factor as well as lack of sleep and loss of appetite. The doctor nodded her acceptance of this reasoning, but still wanted to keep an eye out for pregnancy-induced hypertension or even preeclampsia. She instructed Scully to regularly check her blood pressure when at home, and if it gets any higher she should call her right away.

At 9:21 am on Thursday, Scully walked into the basement office at FBI headquarters. Agent Doggett looked up from his desk in shock.

“Agent Scully! I wasn’t expecting to see you back here ‘til next week.”

“I know,” she replied, walking over to her desk. “I just… I couldn’t sit around at home anymore.” She sat down at the desk, and looked over at Doggett. “I already called and spoke to Skinner. The rest of my sick leave has been cancelled.”

He sighed. “Are you sure it’s good for you to be back so soon?”

Scully stared at him. “You don’t want me here?”

“Come on, don’t put words in my mouth,” Doggett replied. “Of course I want you here. You think I like working down here by myself? I just meant… that it might be better if you took more time off.”

“John, I was making myself crazy. I need something to do. I need to work.”

He nodded. Doggett understood. He’d been there. Had thrown himself into work following his son’s death, not knowing what else to do. He’d needed something steady, rock solid, to keep him going, keep his mind occupied. He worked every case he could get his hands on, the more involved and time-consuming the better. It had worked to assuage the raw pain of his grief, but in the end he’d wound up divorced. Doggett now deeply regretted not taking the necessary time to be at home with his wife, to cope with their loss together instead of separately. He feared that Scully wasn’t taking the needed time to deal with her own loss.

“I have a meeting with Skinner and Kersh today at 2:00,” he told her. “It’s to go over the… case with Absalom and those followers of his out in Montana. There’s still no camera footage to be found of any physical abuse happening on that compound. How those people were injured, and then cured in Teresa Hoese’s case is a mystery. The FBI is at a loss as to how to prosecute.”

“Absalom didn’t torture those people, Agent Doggett.”

He sighed. “So then… what? Aliens? You wanna write that in the case report? Be my guest. Kersh will have a field day.”

Scully rolled her eyes. She decided she didn’t give a damn, and that’s precisely what she did. She took to her computer and spent the rest of the morning typing up a detailed field report concerning everything that had happened in Montana. Including her eye-witness account of Jeremiah Smith’s transformation and the spaceship hovering over the farmhouse. At 12:45 pm, their joint case report, featuring both Scully’s and Doggett’s version of events as well as both their theories of what was happening out there in Montana, was sent via interdepartmental mail to Skinner and the Deputy Director.

At 3:00 pm, just as they were walking out of Kersh’s office, he angrily barked at them that they were to attend the annual Team Building Seminar next weekend at the Capital Hilton there in Washington. Scully inwardly groaned, but then became pained as memories of that FBI retreat in Colorado with Mulder rushed to the front of her mind.

*****

Scully woke up, gasping. Another nightmare, and thankfully the details had faded as soon as she’d woken. It was after midnight and she couldn’t go back to sleep, as hard as she tried. She suddenly felt butterflies in the pit of her stomach, and thought this was likely her baby moving around. Maybe she’d woken him up, too. She sighed and got out of bed, walking into the kitchen to get a glass of water. She laid her eyes on the digital blood pressure monitor sitting on the dining table.

After emptying her bladder and returning to the table, she sat comfortably in one of the chairs for about five minutes. After locating her pulse at the inside bend of her left elbow, at the brachial artery, she placed the digital blood pressure cuff over it. After pressing the start button and inflating the cuff, the long beep indicated the measurement was complete, and her eyes widened in shock over the 170/90 reading. She waited 10 minutes and took it again, getting a similar reading. It was close to dangerously high.

She got on the phone and reached Dr. Bajaj’s answering service, leaving her a brief message. At 2:30 am, the doctor returned Scully’s phone call, telling her that she was presently supervising the overnight shift at George Washington University Hospital, and that if Scully came down to the hospital she could have things checked out right away.

After getting dressed, Scully made the short drive to The George Washington University Hospital on 23rd Street NW. After arriving and parking her car, she received an unexpected phone call from Skinner. Several minutes later she was making her way to the Obstetrics/Gynecology department, signing in at the desk. She then walked over to a nearby pay phone in the hospital corridor, and dialed Doggett’s home number. She sighed as she realized it was almost 3:30 am.

“Yeah,” Doggett answered the phone sleepily.

“It's, uh, it's Agent Scully,” she said, speaking quietly. “I'm sorry to wake you.”

“What's up?” he asked.

Scully felt somewhat relieved that he didn’t seem too put out at being woken up in the middle of the night. “I got a call about 20 minutes ago from Assistant Director Skinner. He has a situation.”

“What is it?”

“An agent is dead,” she replied. “Um, Skinner had him surveilling a religious cult in Pittsburgh. And all the followers are dead as well.”

Doggett immediately felt wide awake. “What happened?”

Scully had asked Skinner that same question. “He's having difficulty determining that.”

He picked up his watch from the bedside table and sighed as he looked at the time. “I'll pick you up.”

“I'm sorry, Agent Doggett,” she said. “I can't go.”

“Agent Scully?” he asked, concern filling his voice.

She hesitated, not wanting to alarm him. “Um, something unexpected has come up.”

Doggett started thinking of all the worst case scenarios. “You all right?”

“Yeah, I'm, I'm fine.” She inwardly groaned, knowing full well she didn’t sound fine.

“Will I see you later?” asked Doggett.

Scully could only hope that everything checked out fine. “Uh, as soon as I can.” She then hung up the pay phone as a nurse approached her.

“Miss Scully? The doctor wants to see you right away.”

She turned from the phone, feeling tired and nervous, following the nurse to an exam room, the words “I’m fine” echoing back to her in her mind. It was 3:30 in the morning, and she was in the hospital, lying to her partner. She guessed some things never change. She suddenly remembered a middle-of-the-night phone call to Mulder she made years ago. Holding a tissue to her nose to stop the bleeding, squeezing her eyes shut against the stabbing pain between them, desperately trying to ignore the sound of concern, fear, and panic in his voice.

_“I’m fine, Mulder.”_

But she wasn’t fine. She wasn’t fine then, and she didn’t really think she was fine now. She was worried, but couldn’t find a way to say so to Doggett. She knew that he worried about her. He’d worried about her the entire time they were in Montana. His only words to her in North Carolina had been that he hoped she was taking care of herself, and to call him if she needed him to do anything for her. Scully didn’t want to worry him, she didn’t want to worry Skinner, and she didn’t want to worry her family. She didn’t want to worry anyone. She felt she’d worried them enough. But what she wouldn’t give to have Mulder there with her, to have her partner by her side, to share the burden of her concerns and fears. What she wouldn’t give to not be alone.

Scully got undressed and into a hospital gown, before climbing up onto an exam table. It was cold, and the thin paper beneath her crinkled as she moved. Dr. Bajaj greeted her warmly as she entered the room, and then checked Scully’s blood pressure, noting that it had lowered a bit to 160/90.

“It’s still quite high,” Dr. Bajaj said. “I think we’ll do some tests. Does that sound all right with you, Dr. Scully?”

“I think the more tests the better,” she replied. “I just want to make sure… that everything’s okay.”

Dr. Bajaj nodded and stood up from the chair, walking over to the table against the wall, where she looked over the chart. Scully thought about all the risks she’d exposed her baby to. Running around in the oppressive desert heat of Arizona, getting attacked by that Alien Bounty Hunter. She remembered another nightmare in the desert of Utah, of watching a man’s head get bashed in by rocks, of being tied to a bed, that parasite invading her body. What she’d put her baby through these past few months. Scully remembered something from medical school, that a fetus is basically a parasite living off the mother’s body. What a cold, heartless description.

She also suddenly remembered, with a pang of guilt, that she had thought of Mulder that way at times over the years, like a parasite. There were times she felt he was draining the life out of her, that his quest was completely taking over her life, obliterating her individual identity, her firm hold on who and what she was. But she’d only felt that way in times of frustration. Her relationship with Mulder could never be termed as parasitic. And her baby, Mulder’s baby, could never be compared to such a disgusting thing as that Jesus slug, could never be considered parasitic. Symbiotic was probably a much better, more accurate description.

“Okay, Dr. Scully,” said Dr. Bajaj, turning from the table. “Now, we already just did an ultrasound at your appointment and everything looked normal. There was a healthy amount of amniotic fluid. So what I’m gonna do is order a set of blood tests, and collect urine samples from you over the next 24 hours to check for protein. This could alert us to the onset of preeclampsia. We’ll also have a biophysical profile done to check on your baby’s health. And I think we’ll just monitor you here in the hospital for a few days. After that, if you and your baby are both doing well, you’ll be free to go home and return to your normal routine.”

Scully nodded. How was she going to evade Skinner when she was expected to be working this case he’d wanted her and Doggett on?

Dr. Bajaj departed the exam room and the nurse returned to lead Scully to a private room where she’d spend the next few days being monitored. She slipped into the bed, still in her hospital gown. It was inclined so she could sit up and watch television or read while she waited for the doctor or nurses to come back and start the testing. She turned on CNN and watched political pundits hash out the upcoming presidential election. She sighed and wondered what Mulder would think of it, the wisecracks he’d make in mockery of everyone involved.

She missed his corny sense of humor. The game they’d play, where he’d try his damnedest to make her laugh and she’d fight just as hard not to. She would put up a good fight, but he always won. With a deep sense of regret, she wished she hadn’t held back for so long, wished she hadn’t hid herself away behind her professional exterior; that she’d allowed herself to smile and laugh more often. She suspected that Mulder had wanted her to, had wanted to lighten the heavy load of the work for her, and that’s how the game had started, all those years ago. Scully turned off the television and turned to lie on her side, closing her eyes against the tears starting to well up.

*****

After her blood had been drawn and a urine sample collected, Scully was instructed to eat a meal before the biophysical profile test was done. A technician arrived and set up an ultrasound machine. He then performed the ultrasound, observing the baby’s movements and the amount of amniotic fluid. The technician then performed a nonstress test to assess the baby’s heart rate. Scully was instructed to lie on her left side while the technician strapped a device to her belly to monitor the baby’s heartbeat and movement. He then listened to and watched the baby’s heart beating on the electronic screen of the monitor. Everything checked out fine, to Scully’s relief.

The technician departed, after telling her that the testing was over for now and to get some rest. Scully watched him leave the room. She knew she should rest, but she felt guilty about leaving Doggett to work a case all by himself. He was getting used to the X-Files, still trying to wrap his head around the bizarre nature of the cases, the open-ended results, the frustration of a case ending without any real closure. She wanted to find some way to help Doggett.

Early the next morning, Friday the 11th of August, Scully pulled her robe on over her hospital gown, and walked back out to the hallway. She then got back on the phone, and made a call to Skinner, where he updated her on the case developments. She apologized again for not being available to work the case. He asked after her and she told him that she was fine, everything was okay. She asked Skinner to call the Lone Gunmen and see if they could provide some assistance, and then asked to speak to Doggett.

Skinner’s muffled voice could be heard, speaking away from the phone. “Agent Doggett? It's Agent Scully.”

Doggett took the cell phone. “Agent Scully.”

“Skinner told me about the case. I know that you covered for me. You didn't have to do that.”

“It's all right,” he said, the exhaustion evident in his voice.

She felt grateful that he hadn’t alarmed Skinner. “I appreciate your discretion.”

“Yeah, well, it's easy to be discreet when you don't know what's going on. Are you okay?” His voice was filled with concern. The dream he’d had was terrible, and he wanted to erase those images of Scully from his mind. Last night Skinner had told him that she was taking some personal time. He knew she shouldn’t have come back to work so soon. But she’d been so determined to work, and now there was something preventing her. Something made her change her mind. He wished she’d tell him what was going on. He wanted to ask her if the baby was okay, but he stopped himself.

She once again stated that she was fine, almost cringing at how many times she’d had to repeat this in the last week. Why couldn’t she just be honest with Doggett? Instead she changed the subject. “Skinner says that you're on the clock on this thing. You need to get your rest.”

“Yeah, I just grabbed a few winks.” He thought it was best to leave out the part where he slept on a bench inside a Metro PD station.

“I asked him to contact some friends of Mulder's. I think they'll be able to help.” She could hear the sadness in her own voice as she’d said his name. Scully also wondered if the Lone Gunmen had actually officially met Doggett yet. Mulder’s graveside service would’ve been the only time they were in the same place at once, and she had no idea if they’d spoken to each other then. Knowing the Gunmen, it was possible that they’d spoken to Doggett on the phone over the course of the last few months, but she couldn’t say for sure.

“I appreciate all the help I can get,” replied Doggett, his voice betraying just how tired he was.

She wanted to reassure him, feeling badly for leaving him to work this alone. “Doggett, you're a good agent. Trust your instincts.” Scully then hung up the phone, and returned to her hospital room.

On Sunday evening, Dr. Bajaj walked into the room to discuss the results from Scully's tests. She pulled the chart from the holder at the foot of the bed. Scully sat up straight, smoothed out her gown, and tucked her hair behind her ears.

“You’re okay, Dr. Scully. Your baby is okay.”

Scully let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“No proteins were detected in any of the urine samples, so I think we can rule out preeclampsia. At least for right now. We’ll continue to check for proteins at your subsequent appointments with me at Capital Women’s Care, in case there are changes. There is a normal amount of amniotic fluid surrounding your baby, his growth is normal, he’s getting plenty of oxygen, and the blood flow to your baby is healthy.” Dr. Bajaj sighed, and then sat down in the chair beside the bed. “Dr. Scully, this is the fourth time you’ve been in the hospital since learning of your pregnancy. That’s not good.”

She sighed, and looked down at her entwined hands laying on her lap. “I know.”

“I think the stress is just too much for your body to handle right now, and it’s not good for your baby,” continued Dr. Bajaj, her voice free of judgment or criticism, and only filled with genuine concern. “It appears as though you’ve developed gestational hypertension, and you’ll have to check your blood pressure regularly from now on. I know you have a dangerous job. And I know you’ve suffered a painful loss recently. But you need to slow down. Take things easy.”

“I know these things, I’m aware of them,” Scully replied. “But I also have responsibilities, to myself, to my work, to… to my partner.” Why did she still feel loyal to the X-Files? Mulder was gone. She knew she should walk away. But abandoning the work was something she didn’t want to face, now that she’d lost Mulder. She felt she owed it to him, in some way, to continue.

Dr. Bajaj looked at her, as if contemplating how to reply. “Dr. Scully, the only responsibility you have towards your partner now… is to take care of yourself and your child.”

She felt a lump grow in her throat, and the tears she’d been fighting since arriving at the hospital on Friday morning couldn’t be suppressed any longer. Scully wished she could control her emotions like she used to, wished she could check her tears, mask her feelings. She was afraid those days were over. She brushed the tears from her cheeks, taking deep steadying breaths.

“You’re right, doctor,” Scully said, her voice thick with emotion. “I know I have to do better at looking after myself, making my baby the priority. I will.”

“Good, I hope so,” Dr. Bajaj replied, giving her a reassuring smile. “Now I want you to spend the night, get some much-needed rest. We’ll discharge you first thing tomorrow morning. Probably around 5:00 am. And I’ll see you in four weeks at my office for your next visit.”

Scully nodded, and thanked the doctor for everything. On Monday morning, she departed the hospital at 5:35 am, and drove the short distance to her apartment. After setting her bag down inside her bedroom, she walked out to the table in the hallway and saw she had a message on her answering machine. She pressed the play button. The automated voice told her the message was left the previous night. Then Doggett’s voice filled the room.

“Agent Scully, I think we caught the guy who did it. But it… it still, it… it just doesn't add up.” He sighed into the phone. “It's the damnedest thing I ever saw. I know that this sounds strange, but there's a, there's a… part of me says what if… what if this guy was right? What if I shouldn't have let him die? I'm not making a whole lot of sense. Maybe I just need some sleep. If you get this message… and feel up to it… you give me a call.”

She wasn’t exactly sure what he was talking about. Scully promptly got on the phone and called Doggett’s cell, but he didn’t answer. She thought he sounded almost… frightened in the message. She’d never heard that from him before. Scully grabbed her car keys and walked out of her apartment, getting back into her car and taking the 15 minute drive to Doggett’s house in Falls Church, Virginia.

It was nearly 6:30 am, and Scully found herself standing awkwardly in the doorway to Doggett’s bedroom. Surprisingly, he’d left his front door unlocked. She’d have to say something about that to him. On her drive over, Skinner called her and filled her in as best he could on the case, including the fact that the primary suspect, one Anthony Tipet, was dead. As she glanced around while making her way to through the house, she noticed what a nice house it was for someone with a G-man’s salary. It was also clean, and kept in much better shape than Mulder’s apartment had been.

“Agent Doggett?”

He didn’t stir. Scully walked into the bedroom, moving to stand next to the bed.

“Agent Doggett?”

He woke abruptly, staring up her in surprise, but also relief.

“Agent Doggett. Hi.”

He squinted at the sunlight coming through his windows. “How'd you get here?”

“Your door was unlocked,” she replied.

“You just saved my life, Agent Scully.”

She wondered if his dreams were just as terrifying as hers. “I just woke you up, Agent Doggett.”

He ignored her slightly dismissive tone. “Tipet's in my dreams. If you hadn't woken me up just now…”

“Anthony Tipet is dead,” replied Scully. “I got the call from Skinner on my way over here. He never regained consciousness.”

Doggett didn’t know what to say to that. He realized this was the first he’d seen her since Thursday afternoon. “Are you okay?”

“I seem to be, yes,” Scully said.

“Well, if you need some more time off…” He didn’t want her to come back to work unless she was ready to deal with it. He’d much rather she stayed home and took care of herself, even if he did need her. He didn’t like working these cases without her.

Scully was determined to figure out a way to take things easy, but still maintain her commitment to the X-Files. “No. I'm, um… I'm back at work now.” She then quickly changed the subject. “That must have been some nightmare you just had.”

“Tipet thought he'd find God by looking in the darkness inside himself,” he said.

Scully didn’t believe that Tipet’s methods were the way to go, but she was curious about Doggett’s opinion. “You don't think he succeeded?”

He thought back to what he’d experienced over the last few days. “In my dreams, I see… I saw terrible… violent images that… scared the living daylights out of me. These things are a part of me. I can't deny that, but… maybe… maybe they didn't come from me.”

“Then where'd they come from?” She’d asked a simple, idle question, but he clearly looked bothered by it. He also looked like he didn’t know how to answer it. She tried to reassure him. “It was a bad dream, Agent Doggett, but that's all it was.”

He didn’t feel all that comforted, and looked away from her. Scully started to back away from the bed. “Uh… I guess I’ll see you at the office later.”

Doggett turned to look at her. “Yeah, okay.”

She nodded, and turned to walk towards the bedroom doorway.

“Oh, Agent Scully,” he called out.

She stopped and looked back at him. “Yes?”

He cleared his throat. “Um… have you eaten breakfast yet? I make a killer omelet.”

“Uh, I’m off eggs at the moment,” she replied, her face scrunching up a bit. Then she glanced down at her watch. “Why don’t I meet you at Downtown Coffee and Tea? Around 8:30?”

“Sure, sounds good,” Doggett said, giving her a half smile.

She nodded and left the bedroom, closing the door behind her, before making her way back to Georgetown to get ready for work.

*********

On Thursday morning, August 17th, Agent Doggett was lying in a bed at Boston General Hospital, feeling frustrated. He pressed his call bell, and waited, but there was no response. “Nurse! Nurse!”

He started to get out of bed just as Scully entered the room. “Where do you think you're going?”

“To find the nurse,” he answered defensively, after he stopped short to look at her. “She said she was going to talk to the doctor about me going home. I could be dying in here for all she knows.”

“Well, you're not, Agent Doggett,” replied Scully. “Your skin and body have been rid of the organism. Simple alcohol bath cleaned you right up. I was just down talking to the nurse and I told her I'd come and give you the news.”

“Well, can I get out of here?” he impatiently asked.

She suppressed a grin, feeling déjà vu. As it turned out, there were a few little things Mulder and Doggett had in common. “Yes.”

He then started to turn towards the bathroom, then remembering his hospital gown and his nakedness underneath, he abruptly turned and started walking backwards to the bathroom, taking his pants from the chair, while Scully averted her eyes and fought hard not to laugh. And that’s where Mulder and Doggett differed again. At no point in their partnership had Mulder ever been shy about his body or how much of it Scully saw.

Doggett then asked about the others who had been down in the tunnel with him. She gave him their status updates. He then became angry when Scully told him there was no way they could bring those responsible for the dead victims to justice, there was no longer any evidence of the unknown pathogen, that there was no proof of anything.

He stared at her, very upset about this.

“Look, Agent Doggett, not a criminal charge is going to stick. These guys were just doing their job… keeping the trains running.” She paused, and averted her eyes. She still felt slightly guilty about not going down into the tunnels with him. She wasn’t shaping up to be a good partner right now, and knew the time would be coming soon enough when she’d be walking away from the X-Files for good. “But they've got you to thank. And not just for saving their butts.”

“No. You figured it out. I was just your eyes and ears.”

Scully smiled weakly, not wanting to take the credit.

Doggett felt like there was something she wasn’t telling him. She still hadn’t told him about that personal time she’d needed to take earlier in the week, even though she claimed to be fine. And she’d seemed out of sorts when she told him she wasn’t going to go down into the tunnels with him. But he’d understood. It’s not like he wanted a pregnant woman to go down there with unknown deadly pathogens on the loose. “Agent Scully…”

Her smile faded. Whatever he wanted to talk about, she felt like that was a conversation she’d much rather avoid. “Let's go home,” she said, before turning to leave the room. Doggett watched her go, and then followed her out to the hallway.

*****

On Saturday morning, August 19th, Scully stared at her reflection in the mirror. She grumbled to herself, and stomped off towards her closet. She’d tried on several skirts and dress pants, but it was no use. No matter what she put on, it was glaringly obvious she was pregnant. Her 19-weeks-old bump was clearly noticeable, and there was no way to hide it. And she had to walk into the Capital Hilton and spend the weekend surrounded by hundreds of fellow FBI agents for the annual teamwork conference. There was no way of getting out of it.

She eventually decided on a new black pencil skirt she’d purchased the day before, that stopped just above her knees, and a white short-sleeved button down blouse. She stood sideways next to the mirror, and glanced over at herself. Her hand moved to caress her belly, the bump protruding from underneath her clothes. She sighed and shrugged her shoulders, before finally leaving the bedroom.

Just before 9:00 am, Scully met Doggett in the lobby of the Hilton. His face broke out into a big grin when he saw her. He wanted to say how cute she looked or comment on the belly, but then thought better of it. He only grinned stupidly at her, causing Scully to roll her eyes at him.

“Let’s get this over with,” she grumbled. They then turned and walked down the hallway to one of the large meeting rooms that had been designated as the site for the FBI’s Team Building Seminar.

Doggett had actually been looking forward to this conference. He did want to get to know Scully better, and she hadn’t said very much to him since what happened out in Montana. That was understandable. But he was of the opinion that some team building might not be such a bad idea. He also had a hundred questions he’d like to ask her. He was sure the obvious one on everyone’s mind as soon as they’d set eyes on her was “Who’s the father?” but Doggett didn’t need to ask her that one. But there were other things he’d like to ask her about, like “Do you have enough family around here to help you out?” and “When’s your due date?” and “How long you gonna be on maternity leave?” They were simple enough questions, but he had a feeling that getting the answers would be like pulling teeth.

Once Scully and Doggett arrived at their table, they found they’d been seated with three other pairs of agents. One pair being the familiar faces of Agent Sam Cole and his partner, Agent Sarah Brewer, from the VCU. The other two pairs were also from the VCU, Agents Tiana Martin and Ada Vosskuhler, and Agents Tyler Grant and Gabrielle Patterson. Doggett knew Sam, of course, everyone did, and he recognized the other agents from the VCU, although he’d never personally worked with them. Other than Cole and Brewer, Scully couldn’t remember ever seeing the others before.

Over the course of the morning, after the agents seated at the table stared wide-eyed as Scully silently sat down in her seat, it appeared to Doggett that both Sam Cole and Agent Grant were vying for her attention. But when it became evident that Scully wasn’t all that up to chit chat, Sam left off trying to engage her in conversation. It appeared to Doggett that Grant did not seem to pick up on these cues. It also seemed like Agent Patterson was trying to sit as far away from her partner as possible. They didn’t speak two words to each other the entire morning.

“So how long have you and Doggett been partners now, Agent Scully?” asked Grant, after the group had returned to the table following the mid-morning break.

“Almost three months,” she replied dully.

Grant nodded. “Agent Patterson and I have been together two years now. We’re from the New York field office.”

Patterson heaved a sigh. “Three years.”

“But you’ve been with the Bureau a lot longer than that,” Grant said to Scully, ignoring his partner. “How many years now?”

“Um… I graduated from the Academy in 1990,” replied Scully.

Patterson huffed in annoyance. “Tyler, would you shut up?”

Grant turned to look at her. “What’s the problem? It’s just a question.” He then turned back to Scully. “I thought I might’ve heard your name before, maybe a couple years ago. Have you had many partners since joining the Bureau?”

Doggett noticed everyone else at the table abruptly stop their own conversations and slowly turn to stare incredulously at Agent Grant, and then uncomfortably glance in Scully’s direction.

“Before Agent Doggett, I only had one partner from the time I began field work in 1993. Fox Mulder.”

Grant opened his mouth to reply and then quickly closed it, realization dawning on his features. He glanced at his partner, who was staring up at the ceiling and shaking her head in disbelief. Everyone else, other than Doggett, was decidedly looking anywhere but at Scully. The next hour passed by in complete silence as they sat and listened to the lecturer on the podium. They listened to different speakers give lectures on different topics, each emphasizing the working relationship between FBI partners. Scully was barely paying attention. Much of what was talked about sounded almost exactly like the keynote address she’d heard the year before in Colorado. She often found herself allowing her mind to wander, unable to focus on what was being said from the stage.

When the conference halted for the hour lunch break, Assistant Director Thomas Gates instructing everyone to be seated at their respective tables by 1:00 pm, everyone started to make their way out of the meeting room and to the banquet room, where a buffet-style lunch had been prepared for the attendees. Scully and Doggett ate lunch together in mostly companionable silence. There were things he wanted to ask her about, but realized that a room full of other agents wasn’t the best place for a personal conversation. Both Doggett and Scully also noticed they were receiving a lot of stares, and a wide berth, from other agents.

Just before 12:40 pm, Scully decided she best use the ladies’ room before the afternoon session started, and left the banquet hall. Upon entering the nearest bathroom off the hallway leading to the lobby and selecting the stall closest to the doorway, knowing it would probably be the cleanest, she sat down and seriously pondered staying there for the next 20 minutes to avoid having to go back into the banquet room. Women entered and exited the bathroom, all the while Scully remained perched on the toilet with no motivation to return sooner than necessary.

After about 10 minutes, a group of chattering women entered the ladies’ room and stood around the sink, gossiping and laughing. Scully easily pictured them standing in front of the large wall-length mirror, touching up their hair and makeup.

“Oh my goodness… can you believe Dana Scully is here?”

The other women let out small gasps and sounds of agreement. “Oh, I know.”

“God, that’s so sad.”

“But she doesn’t seem all that sad. When the news broke about Spooky, I heard from my friend in the third floor bullpen that Natalie Black was inconsolable. And here Agent Scully is, back to work already. She doesn’t seem so broken up over it. No wonder people call her the Ice Queen.”

Scully didn’t want to listen to this. But she was trapped. She’d rather cut off her own arm than walk out and let those women see her there.

“Come on, Rachel. Give it a rest with the ‘Spooky’ business. The guy is dead. Give the man some dignity.”

Scully closed her eyes, trying hard not to move or make any sound to alert anyone of her presence there. She tried to think of something else, to ignore the loud conversation happening outside her stall, but it was useless.

“Dana’s pregnant, you know.”

“What?!”

“No way!”

“How do you know?”

Scully’s eyes widened, and then her brows furrowed as she stared down at her entwined fingers.

“Well, have you taken a good look at her? There is a baby bump underneath that shirt.”

“I’m definitely gonna have a look now. It’s probably Mulder’s. But then again, maybe not. I thought they were lovers, but then why is she back to work right after the funeral? God, I’d stay in bed for a fucking month if that happened to me. I also heard she didn’t even cry at Mulder’s funeral. How cold can you get?”

Scully started to chew on her bottom lip, fighting against the waves of emotion flooding her gut. But a memory stirred, a good one…

“Mmm… Scully, you’re so warm,” Mulder whispered in her ear, nuzzling her cheek and the back of her neck, wrapping his arm around her underneath the covers and pulling her closer until her back was pressed against his chest.

She smiled, and turned her body to face him, their legs tangling together. Mulder gazed into her eyes, searching her face. “I’m in love with you,” he whispered.

Scully grinned. “I know.”

He gave her a blank stare, blinking. Then an evil glint twinkled in his eye. “Oh you do, huh?”

She smirked at him, shrugging her shoulders. His hands then flew to her ribs, and he started to mercilessly tickle her. She shrieked and tried to get away from him, but he was too strong.

“Mulder!”

“I’ll stop when you reply correctly,” he laughed, his fingers still torturing her.

She tried another desperate attempt to escape, but failed. “All right! All right! I’m in love with you too,” she half-laughed, half-squealed.

Mulder abruptly took his hands away, ending the torture. “Now was that so hard?”

“I’ll show you hard.” She lunged for him, pushing him over and straddling his pelvis, leaning over to passionately devour his lips, Mulder’s arms wrapping around her back and holding her tight.

…Scully smiled to herself over the memory, from the early Friday morning they spent at her apartment before they’d left for Los Angeles to attend the screening for _The Lazarus Bowl_. She felt a surge of power course through her, like molten lava flowing through her veins, full of confidence and strength.

“Yeah, but… even some of the secretaries cried over it. They obviously were more bothered by his death than her.”

“Please, as if those catty bitches really cared about Spooky. I don’t believe a single word they ever said about him. Like he would ever pay them any attention, let alone date them.”

Scully rolled her eyes. She still had no idea how the whole ‘Mulder and the secretaries’ rumor even got started, it was so far-fetched.

“Well, my boyfriend is friends with an agent out in Salt Lake City, and he said that Agent Scully completely lost it when they found Mulder’s body. Like, it took several agents just to pry her off of him. He probably is the father.”

“The bump is kinda small, though. She’s probably only a few months along. What if that Agent Doggett knocked her up? It’s not outside the realm of possibility. Her partner goes missing. She’s lonely. She can’t wait around for Mulder to show up. It happens.”

“I heard they were fighting like cats and dogs when Doggett first started working with her. Probably just sexual tension.”

Scully rolled her eyes again, and found herself fighting the urge to laugh.

“Oh, for chrissakes! Even if that’s true, just let the poor woman be. She’s lost someone, whether that was just her partner or her lover or… whatever.”

“Well, it would certainly give a new spin on why he disappeared. If she really is pregnant, I mean.”

The other women chuckled.

“What? Like, he ran away because he got her pregnant? Give me a break.”

“Men evade responsibility all the time. Leave it to Spooky to go overboard and get himself killed over it. But maybe it's better he never came back. Would've caused a love triangle down there in the basement.”

At that statement, Scully stood up and flushed the toilet. She straightened out her skirt and blouse, rubbing her hand over the new roundness of her belly, and walked out of the bathroom stall. The women, five of them, all looked to range in age from 25 to 35. She didn’t recognize them, had no idea who these agents were. They stared at Scully, wide-eyed and frozen, mouths falling open. She silently walked over to the sink, washed and dried her hands, ran her fingers through her hair, and walked silently out of the bathroom, smirking as the door shut behind her.

*****

The itinerary for the afternoon was all about learning about one’s partner. Once everyone had gotten seated at their tables in the conference room, they all found two sheets of paper with questions in front of their seats. Both papers contained identical questions, but one was to be filled out about themselves and the other about their partners. They had 30 minutes to complete the task.

Doggett and Scully exchanged pointed looks, and she fought off an eyeroll while Doggett grinned. The questions started off easy enough, asking for basic info: full name, date of birth, place of birth, higher education, FBI career. But then the questions became increasingly personal: ‘Why did you choose the FBI?,’ ‘If you had to leave the FBI, what other career would you want to attempt?,’ ‘Which of your siblings are you closest to?,’ ‘What’s your favorite sound?,’ ‘What’s your biggest pet peeve?,’ ‘If you got to live one day over again, what day would you choose?’

Scully and Doggett both had similar feelings about these questions: they barely knew how they themselves would answer some of them, and to figure out the answers their partner would give was almost impossible. Scully probably could’ve filled out the paper about Mulder in minutes. She had no idea how Doggett would answer these questions. Doggett was experiencing the same problem. The truth was, they knew very little about one another.

Once the 30 minutes was up, Assistant Director Gates instructed partners to switch papers and review their answers. Scully handed Doggett the paper she’d filled out with her guesses as to how he’d answer the questions, taking the same paper from him.

Doggett read over the paper. “You didn’t do half bad. Have you been stalking me?”

She snorted. “I worked with a top notch psychologist for seven years. He might’ve rubbed off on me.”

“Well, I’ll give you a B+,” he replied, smiling.

“What questions did I get wrong?” asked Scully.

He glanced down at the paper. “You said my favorite sport was football. You know it’s NASCAR. I don’t why you’d put football down there.”

She nodded. “Is NASCAR a real sport, though?”

Doggett stared at the teasing glint in her eyes. What was this? Was she mocking him? He grinned at her. “Most women don’t think so. I guess they just can’t understand its finer points.”

He got a severely arched eyebrow and a sarcastic eyeroll in return, and he grinned even more. Doggett suddenly felt awfully glad they came to this thing. He wasn’t a stupid man. He also wasn’t blind. He knew Scully was very pretty, very smart, and occasionally he saw snippets of her buried sense of humor. He also knew she was very unavailable. He had no romantic interest in her, but he did want them to be friends. He did want her to like him at least.

Doggett was able to get her to laugh a little with what he’d written in response to the questions about her. He’d completely made stuff up because he didn’t know how to answer them.

“I’m closest to my younger sister, Julia?” Scully asked incredulously. “I don’t have a younger sister. And my older sister’s name was Melissa. You should know that since you read _all those X-Files_ you keep harping on about.”

“I made it up,” he shrugged, smirking at her.

She snorted, shaking her head. “I guess I’m closest to my younger brother Charlie, and technically I’m closer to his wife.”

He smiled. “See? Well, now I know. I’ll get all the answers right next year.”

Scully suddenly felt a pang of guilt. She knew there wouldn’t be a next year for them.

After another lecture on the importance of knowing your partner well, the importance of listening, of being able to pick up signs that something might be off about your partner, that your partner might be in need of help of some kind, the session halted for the mid-afternoon break. Fifteen minutes later, everyone reconvened in the conference room to find that several gym mats had been placed around the room and tables had been moved out of the way.

AD Gates then took the podium. “Now, here is the moment I’m sure many of you either look forward to, or dread,” Gates began. “Your final task doesn’t require the answering of questions, the baring of truths. It doesn’t even require talking. In fact, you must not talk at all. This task requires you to trust your partner. Easier said than done. Today we’re going to learn whether you really have your partner’s back… literally.”

Lots of people murmured. Some groaned. Others laughed nervously. It was time for the Trust Falls. Partners lined up around each gym mat, before taking their turns. Some partners finished quickly, others took longer as they worked to get over their fear and trust the other person to catch them. From the podium, AD Gates continued to give everyone encouragement and tips about the importance of trust in an FBI partnership.

“Since you can’t talk to each other, there’s no way to be sure of when your partner is going to fall. There’s also no way to be sure if your partner is ready to catch you. Once you’ve completed the fall successfully, switch places and do it again.”

Doggett felt sure that Scully would catch him; that she wouldn’t let him fall to the floor. But he was a big man and she was pregnant. Maybe this thing wasn’t a good idea. He turned his head, about to tell her that they should make an excuse not to do this, but she met his gaze with fierce determination. He knew she wasn’t going to be talked out of it, and it would be pointless to try.

They stood and watched Agents Sam Cole and Sarah Brewer get up to the mat. Sam went first, standing up on the mat with his back to his partner, and without a second’s hesitation, immediately let himself fall backwards into her arms. But when they switched places, Agent Brewer spent a couple minutes bracing herself before she could let herself fall.

Sam did catch her. “Hey, that was a lot quicker than last year!” he said, smiling. “Improvement.” He then high-fived her, and she laughed.

Soon it was Doggett and Scully’s turn to go. The agents standing nearby all turned to watch them. Scully noticed their stares, and the whispering.

“I’ll go first,” Doggett said to her, and Scully nodded. She gave him a smile of encouragement before he turned around. He closed his eyes, counted to 10, and then let himself fall backwards. Almost immediately he felt a pair of strong arms hook under his armpits and grab his torso. He smiled.

Scully then switched places, walking forward on the mat and keeping her back to Doggett. He stood still, his legs slightly apart, ready to catch her whenever she let herself fall. He wondered how long it would take. They’d watched some partners stand around for quite some time, frozen by fear or doubt. He knew for the longest time she hadn’t trusted him, had kept things from him. Doggett could only hope that she’d learned to trust him at this point.

She looked up at the ceiling. Mulder had always told her to “Trust no one.” But who was he kidding? He trusted lots of people, even when he shouldn’t have. But at the same time, he hadn’t trusted anyone but her. She hadn’t wanted to trust Doggett. Partly because she was afraid, she didn’t know him, and wondered about the FBI’s agenda with sending him down to work the X-Files with her. But Doggett had proven himself a good agent, and a decent person. He’d been a good partner to her, and she’d put him through a lot.

Scully closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and dropped. Doggett caught her easily, his arms locking around her chest, her back pressed tightly against him. He then gently lifted her until she got steady on her feet. She turned to look at him and smiled briefly, nodding.

“Thanks,” she said, smoothing out her blouse over her abdomen and running her hands over the sides of her skirt.

“No problem, partner.” Doggett grinned at her.

They then walked off the mat, noticing even more blatant stares, agents elbowing their partners and whispering. Scully self-consciously wondered if the fall exposed her belly. Even if it did, there was nothing she could do about it now. She was only going to get bigger.

Following the closing speeches by Assistant Director Gates and a couple of the guest speakers, the conference came to a close at 5:00 pm, and everyone returned to the banquet hall for the wine and cheese party. Of course, Scully wasn’t drinking any wine. But that didn’t stop people from bugging her about it. Countless agents approached her, most of whom she’d never met before, asking her if she’d like a glass of wine. She’d refuse, and then they’d curiously ask her why not. Doggett would sarcastically stare at them, shaking his head. He finally walked off and got her a glass of cranberry juice, hoping to prevent people from approaching her and offering her drinks.

“They all know I’m pregnant,” Scully said to Doggett, taking the glass from him.

“Yeah, I’m kind of getting that impression,” he replied.

She sighed, and brought her glass up his. “Cheers.”

He smirked, and clinked his wine glass against her cranberry juice. “Cheers.”


	84. "A battle's being waged. A struggle for Heaven and Earth. Where there is one law: Fight or die. And one rule: Resist or serve."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully has trouble sleeping. Krycek shows up in New York City, and gets shocking news. Scully gets an unexpected proposition, and a heartwarming gift. Doggett questions a sudden recommendation from Kersh.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of "DeadAlive" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter & Frank Spotnitz. The dialog from "The Sixth Extinction II: Amor Fati" doesn't belong to me. It was written by Chris Carter & David Duchovny. They belong to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> Sidenote: The mythology of this story starts to pick up here, although there were hints of it earlier, and it will continue on through to the end. For starters, I am not an expert on Native American myths and legends. But I am adapting a known Navajo legend to this mythology, and hopefully in a way that will be cohesive with what already came beforehand in the TV series. This is just how I reconciled events of Season 8 & 9 within my headcanon, and developed a climactic ending for Mulder, Scully, and William on through to post-IWTB. I really hope that it makes sense to you, and that it doesn't seem preposterous. I guess we'll see...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coldplay – “The Scientist”
> 
> Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry  
> You don't know how lovely you are  
> I had to find you, tell you I need you  
> Tell you I'll set you apart
> 
> Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions  
> Oh, let's go back to the start  
> Running in circles, coming up tails  
> Heads on a science apart
> 
> Nobody said it was easy  
> It's such a shame for us to part  
> Nobody said it was easy  
> No one ever said it would be this hard  
> Oh, take me back to the start
> 
> I was just guessing at numbers and figures  
> Pulling your puzzles apart  
> Questions of science, science and progress  
> Do not speak as loud as my heart
> 
> Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me  
> Oh, and I rush to the start  
> Running in circles, chasing our tails  
> Coming back as we are
> 
> Nobody said it was easy  
> Oh, it's such a shame for us to part  
> Nobody said it was easy  
> No one ever said it would be so hard  
> I'm going back to the start

_She walked into her apartment tiredly, dropping her keys on the kitchen table. She opened the refrigerator, but then was startled by a sound in the living room. Someone was in her apartment. Her heart started racing, and she pulled out her gun from its holster, aiming it at a shadowed figure which had suddenly appeared near the door._

_“Don't move. Who's there?”_

_A man stepped out of the shadows. “I don't mean to frighten you. Albert Hosteen.”_

_She immediately_ _lowered her gun, yet unable to believe her eyes. “What are you doing here? How did you get here?”_

_“I'm sorry to surprise you,” Albert said._

_“Surprise?” she replied in disbelief. “That you're standing here. The last time I saw you was in New Mexico. They'd taken you from the hospital. Your… your doctors feared the worst.”_

_Albert nodded slightly. “I was hoping to see your partner.”_

_She felt her stomach tighten into anxious knots._ _“He's missing.”_

_“You must save him.”_

_“He's very ill,” she replied._

_Albert was seemingly undeterred by this. “You must find him before something happens, not only for his sake… for the sake of us all.”_

_She watched Albert Hosteen walk towards her front door, opening it, and without another look at her, he walked out, closing the door shut behind him._

Scully’s eyes flew open, Albert’s words still ringing inside her head. She’d been having this same dream almost every night for a month, but had no idea why. And that hadn’t actually been Albert Hosteen. He’d been in New Mexico at the time, in a coma. So who was it who’d come to visit her? An Alien Bounty Hunter posing as Albert? That didn’t make sense. Mulder had hinted at attributing it to some kind of spiritual intervention. Scully still didn’t know what to think about that.

Her Georgetown apartment was as quiet as it ever was able to get, being in Washington, D.C. Just enough of the comforting and normal street noise could be heard through the tight-shut windows. The blinds were closed in an effort to keep as much of the streetlights out of her bedroom as possible. She thought she’d be able to just drift back to sleep, but quickly realized that was going to be an exercise in futility. Her son was awake, and he wasn’t going to let her go back to sleep.

She rolled over to her other side, glancing at the red light emitting from the digital clock on her bedside table. It was 3:42 am on Thursday, September 21st. “Oh, God,” she grumbled, feeling exhausted, and moved to lie on her back, one hand running across her forehead and the other rubbing her belly. “Can’t you go back to sleep? Please?”

But he only kicked her harder, an emphatic answer to her plea. This was definitely Mulder’s child, she miserably thought, and rolled to the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh. She then pushed herself off the bed and to her feet, before heading to the bathroom. As she stared at her reflection in the mirror over the sink, she thought that the harsh florescent glow of the bathroom light didn’t do her any favors. The dark circles under her eyes were clear evidence of her exhaustion, her face looked too thin for a woman who was 24 weeks pregnant, with worry lines etched across her forehead and around her mouth. There was something resembling a soccer ball underneath her silk pajama top. She barely recognized herself anymore.

Scully took a washcloth, soaking it with hot water, and pressed the heated, damp cloth to her face. “Okay, kid, listen up. I’m going to make some herbal tea. You have a total of 15 minutes to finish up play time, and then it’s back to sleep. For the both of us. And no funny business. If I fall asleep in the office again, John will never let me hear the end of it. Okay?”

After walking out to her hallway, and into the kitchen, Scully put the kettle on the stove to boil. While opening her cabinet to take out the box of chamomile tea, she glanced towards her front door, to the darkened area of her living room. Her dream came back to her, the memory of Albert Hosteen waiting for her in the dark. She suddenly felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and her flesh became goose pimpled.

She walked out to her living room, the city lights coming through the window easing her eyes’ adjustment to the darkness after leaving the brightness of the kitchen. It was empty, and there were no men, or aliens, or spirit entities waiting for her. She then went over to the fish tank, ensuring that Mulder’s fish were doing well. She hadn’t lost a single one since the Black Molly on the day they’d moved from Alexandria to Georgetown. Scully supposed that was an accomplishment.

Her eyes then fell on her wood bookcase shelves, which now held books that belonged to both her and Mulder. She walked over to the bookcase, her eyes roaming over the titles. Most of the fiction belonged to her, whereas a majority of the nonfiction titles had belonged to Mulder. As her eyes zeroed in on a large book, the one she’d been sent when Mulder had been ill and missing from the hospital, the baby started kicking her even harder. She stared at the title on the spine. _Native American Beliefs and Practices._ She reached to pull the book off the shelf when the kettle suddenly started whistling, startling her, and she jumped. Ignoring the book, she walked back into the kitchen and poured herself some tea. She paced around her kitchen and around her dining table, sipping her hot tea, and after a few minutes the baby was rocked back to sleep.

*****

Alex Krycek stepped out of the entrance doors to the small boutique hotel near the New York Public Library, and got into the yellow taxicab that was sitting on the curb. Fifteen minutes later, he was walking into the dimly lit Divine Echo Café. He glanced around and saw her sitting in a corner table, which was covered in papers, and writing in a notebook. He ordered a black coffee at the counter, and after paying for his cup, joined her at the table. She made no sign that she acknowledged his presence.

“Why the hell did you choose this place?” he asked her. He looked around the shop. What looked like a book club of college kids was sitting in the leather furniture around a faux fireplace, enthusiastically debating something. Probably Keats or Browning or Dickinson. More than likely that British hack James Joyce, or maybe Tom Clancy. Krycek momentarily considered walking over there and asking them what they think about Nietzsche. There was a middle-aged beatnik couple having an intense conversation at another table. An exasperated mother was standing in line at the counter, trying to get through to her disinterested teenage daughter. Sometimes he thought it was a good thing the aliens were going to destroy all of this. Why bother trying to save humanity? Maybe that cigarette smoking son of a bitch and his cronies had it right. But fuck him and fuck them and fuck the aliens.

“This coffee tastes like absolute shit,” he said to her. Still no response. She just kept on looking over the papers on the table, before jotting down more notes. He hadn’t seen her in almost three fucking weeks, and she wouldn’t even look up at him. He sighed.

“Marita, what the hell are you doing? Why did you even bother asking me to come here?”

She sighed. “Just drink your coffee, Alex. I’ll explain in a minute.”

He stared at her, shaking his head. He then watched a young woman walk into the café, with long black hair and dark skin. She was beautiful, with full lips and breasts, long legs, and eyes the same shade as his coffee. She glanced in his direction, and then walked up to the counter to place her order.

“That girl is checking me out,” Krycek said.

Marita scoffed. “I’m sure you’re the one looking at her.”

He blinked at her. “What? You don't think it's possible for a beautiful woman to look at me?”

“Why don’t you go ask her what her opinion of Nietzsche is?” quipped Marita.

“Why don’t I go ask her back to my hotel room?” Krycek retorted.

She finally raised her head to look at him, glaring. “You want to go to prison for statutory rape?”

He gave her a sarcastic look. “She can’t be that young. She’s 17, at the youngest, which is perfectly legal in the fine State of New York. And anyways, I don’t give a fuck about that girl. I just want you to pay some attention to me. Why was it so urgent that I meet you here? I flew all the way from Moscow. We were supposed to meet up in Paris next week. I take it that’s off now?”

“Yes, that’s off,” replied Marita. “Something unexpected has come up.”

“And what is this pertaining to?” Krycek asked.

She sighed. “Fox Mulder is dead. At least that’s what the Justice Department is saying. The funeral is tomorrow afternoon. In Raleigh, North Carolina.”

He stared at her in shock, blinking slowly, and swallowed. “What?”

“There’s more,” said Marita, before pausing briefly. “Agent Scully is pregnant.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Krycek replied.

She shook her head. “Mulder is the father. Or… _was_ , as it turns out.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. He only shook his head in disbelief. “How?”

“The Defense Department has recently discovered, in the wake of the Smoking Man’s disappearance, that certain… tests were done on female abductees over the years using their implanted computer chips,” Marita explained. “The records of these tests show that they all failed. But one such test was performed on Agent Scully, back in the spring. The DoD file on this test shows that it too also failed. However, her pregnancy would say otherwise. This has… alerted some people within the Defense Department, particularly those involved with the Super Soldier program who are working with the alien colonists.”

“Super Soldiers,” Krycek repeated. “You mean the Marines with alien brains?”

Marita tried to suppress a smirk, but barely succeeded. “They have alien biology, yes, gifted by the alien colonists. But they still look and act human. The best soldiers were recruited from the military, and they underwent the transformation. Their physiology is both human and alien. It is impossible to destroy them.”

He eyed her. “Nothing’s impossible. What does this have to do with Mulder and Scully?”

“Those behind the Super Soldier program were growing concerned over the increased amount of abductions starting at the beginning of the year,” she replied. “Mulder, Billy Miles, Teresa Hoese and her husband, others from Bellefleur as well as other places all over the country were taken for some undisclosed purpose. Information the alien colonists chose not to share. But as it turns out, the abductees have started turning up, in places far from home, in perfect health, in… _super human health.”_

“They became… Super Soldiers?” Krycek asked, wide-eyed.

She leaned closer across the table, and lowered her voice, speaking intensely. “Yes and no. They’ve become alien, and for all intents and purposes there isn't a real difference between them and the government's Super Soldiers. The invasion is starting, Alex. The DoD is panicking. They believed the Super Soldier program was strictly military. But the aliens are turning common citizens into their own weapons. The DoD believes the alien colonists are preparing for war. But it's all very hush-hush because the colonists are slowly inserting themselves into positions of authority within the government, and resisting them would be unwise.”

Krycek sighed, rubbing his hand across his forehead. “And Mulder? How does he fit in with all this? Other than being dead?”

“We know Mulder was taken,” replied Marita. “But the way some of these abductees were returned. A few were believed to be near death for months, and then they suddenly completely recovered. As if overnight. Reborn, you could say… alienized. Whether or not Mulder is truly dead, well… that remains to be seen. If he digs himself out of his grave in a few months, we’ll have our answer. In any case, technically he’ll be dead no matter what. He won’t be Fox Mulder any longer. But they certainly had an interest in his role in Agent Scully's pregnancy.”

“Scully’s pregnancy?” he asked. “Why do they have an interest in that?”

She stared at him, pausing. “We already know the alien colonists are gaining a strong foothold within the government. They are very interested in Scully’s pregnancy.” Marita paused again, and sighed. “The alien colonists were afraid. They believed her baby could be a threat. But none of that matters now, really. Mulder is out of the picture.”

His brows knitted in confusion. “I’m not following you.”

“Are you familiar with the Anasazi?” Marita asked.

“Yeah, they disappeared without a trace,” replied Krycek.

She eyed him. “Nothing disappears without a trace. Their beliefs, their legends, their prophecies… live on.”

He stared at her. “What are you getting at? Those are just stories. Myths.”

Marita met his intense gaze. “The legends and prophecies of the Anasazi aren’t just stories to the alien colonists. Have you ever heard the legend of the goddess White Shell Woman? Down to this day, Native Americans still tell of this prophetic legend. She miraculously conceives two children, whose father is the Sun. At the time of the male firstborn’s birth, monsters are roaming the earth, destroying the people, killing without mercy. The White Shell Woman’s son is given the power to destroy these monsters. But fearing that the monsters would learn about him, the White Shell Woman hides the infant child far away. Several years later, the boy goes out in search of his father, being told he must travel far eastward. He eventually climbs to the top of the mountain where he was born, finding the White Shell Woman, and he asks her who his father is. The Sun, being directly overhead, speaks to the boy, and teaches him about his destiny and his powers. The boy, now in his youth, goes out to defeat the monsters and then he comes to be known as Slayer of Alien Gods.”

Krycek hadn’t taken his eyes off her, trying to process this story she’d just related.

“But the prophecy goes on to say that if the boy never finds his father, never learns of his destiny from his father,” she continued. “The monsters are never defeated, and they take the boy, using his power for themselves, and the human population is wiped from the earth. Of course, it's easy to dismiss this as myth. Just a story from an ancient civilization. But the alien colonists do not.”

His mind racing, Krycek abruptly stood up from the table, and after leaning down to plant a quick kiss on Marita’s lips, he turned to walk away, saying “I’ll call you from North Carolina.”

*****

Scully stood in her kitchen on Friday morning, sipping her mint herbal tea, staring at the calendar on the refrigerator. Her pregnancy was 27 weeks along, she was 18 pounds heavier than before this whole thing started, and today was Mulder’s birthday. He would’ve been 39 years old. She still couldn’t believe he was gone. How could this have happened? It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Was this really her life now? It still felt so unreal. It was harder to accept Mulder’s death than it was to accept the fact she somehow got pregnant without the ability to ovulate. The absence of Mulder, the fact he now ceased to exist, seemed so much more bizarre to her. She then remembered something Chuck Burks had said to her over a month ago.

_“It's hard to believe in something when you can't understand it.”_

That had been a difficult case. She had tried so hard to come at it the way Mulder would have, to see the facts and the people involved in the same way he would. But as hard as she tried to be him, to fill the very large shoes he’d left down in the basement, it just wasn’t working out the way she’d hoped it would. She felt that the way Mulder approached a case, the way he’d handle it, was something she was incapable of. It was difficult to come at things without judgment and prejudice and with a completely open mind. She tried to do as Mulder would, but it only terrified her. Scully knew that it was time to leave the X-Files behind.

Her hand moved to rub her belly through her gray button-down blouse, before finding the right spot and pressing two fingers firmly down, feeling her baby twirl around and hit the end of her fingers. She liked to think her son was giving her high-fives. Mulder would probably have joked that it was the baby’s foot, or his butt. Scully snorted, still pressing firmly on her belly to feel her little one, staring at the October 13th date on the calendar, and whispered “Happy birthday, Daddy.”

After slipping on her jacket and grabbing her wallet and car keys, Scully walked out of the apartment and down to her car parked on the curb outside the building. During the short drive to FBI headquarters, she felt increasingly morose. It was so unfair that her son would never know Mulder. He would never see Mulder. He would never hear Mulder’s voice. He would never know what it was like to have Mulder’s support and protection. There was nothing more tragic. She knew she would try to do her best to tell him all about his father, stories about who he was and the things he had done. But how well would she be able to impress upon her son just how special, how unique, how good and how bad, how wonderful and how crazy, his father was? How could she ever explain someone as complex as Mulder? She would try her best but she feared she’d fall painfully short, that she wouldn’t come close to doing him justice.

That afternoon, as Scully sat at her desk after finishing up her lunch, reading the newspaper and waiting for Agent Doggett to return to the office from his own lunch break, there was a knock on the basement office door. She looked up to see Agent Sam Cole from the VCU standing in the doorway. It had been about three weeks since she’d last seen him, up in the fourth floor hallway as her and Doggett were making their way to a meeting with Skinner. Sam was always polite and considerate when she ran into him, always asking after her and the baby. In the weeks since Mulder’s funeral, she’d even received a couple sympathy cards from him via interdepartmental mail.

“Hi, Agent Cole,” she said, giving him a small smile.

“Hello, Agent Scully,” he replied, returning the smile, and stepping inside the office. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

She shook her head. “Of course not. Uh… can I help you with something?”

Sam approached the desk, sitting down in the chair facing her. “Um, no… not really. I was just wondering how you were doing.”

“I’m all right,” Scully said. “How’re you doing? How’s Agent Brewer?”

“Oh, I’m good. Sarah’s good, too. Everything’s, you know… good.”

Scully gave him a slight smirk, nodding. “That’s… good.” She thought Agent Cole looked nervous, noticing his fidgetiness, his inability to maintain eye contact. “Are you sure there isn’t anything I can help you with? Or… Agent Doggett, maybe?”

Sam started to get up from the chair. “No, no. I don’t need anything. I just, uh… wanted to make sure you were doing all right.”

“Well, I'm okay,” she said. “I thank you for your concern.”

“Yeah, well… I should get going,” he replied, nodding his head and averting his eyes. He started to walk away from the desk but then suddenly turned back around, a look of determination having come over his face, and he stared at her for a second, before his words came quickly pouring out of his mouth. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? Or tomorrow night? Or… any night? I really wanna take you out. I’ve wanted to as long as I can remember.”

Her eyes widened, and she knew her mouth had slightly fallen open. This was completely unexpected. She wanted to ask Agent Cole if he’d developed temporary blindness or selective amnesia. She was nearly seven months pregnant. Why would anyone want to take her out on a date? Fortunately she was saved from making a response.

“Sam! What brings you down here?”

Scully and Agent Cole looked towards the doorway, and saw Doggett entering the office.

“Oh, nothing, really,” Sam replied, resolutely not looking back at her. “Just wanted to say hello. Anyways, I really should get going. Sarah will be wondering where I am.”

Doggett stepped forward to hold out his hand to Sam. “Well, it was nice seeing you.”

He gave Doggett a firm handshake. “Yeah, same here. Goodbye, Agent Scully, John.” Sam gave a slight nod at them both, and then walked out of the office.

Scully stared after his departing back and then quickly stood up from the desk, following him out to the hallway. She saw him arriving at the elevator, reaching out to push the ‘UP’ button.

“Agent Cole!” she called out to him, and he turned to watch her as she walked to meet him at the elevator. She sighed as he walked towards her, coming to a halt as she approached him. “Agent Cole. I, uh… I really am flattered by your offer. But, right now, it’s just… this isn’t a good time.”

“Do you think there… will… be a good time?” Sam asked, giving her a slight smile and raising his eyebrows expectantly.

She snorted, averting her eyes, but then looked up at him. “Honestly, I really don’t think so.”

He nodded as the elevator doors opened. Sam turned to step into the compartment, before turning to look back at her. “A guy can hope, you know.”

At that, the doors closed, and he was gone. Scully honestly didn’t know what to think about this. She almost felt bad, and hoped she hadn’t hurt Agent Cole’s feelings. She also felt shocked over receiving this kind of attention. She could only shake her head in disbelief and return to the office.

Later that evening, as Scully stood at the kitchen sink drying her washed dinner dishes, there was a knock on her front door. After drying her hands on a clean dish towel, she walked over to the door and looked out the peephole, her eyes widening in surprise. She unlocked the door and opened it, and was greeted with an even bigger surprise. Richard ‘Ringo’ Langly was standing there holding a small giftwrapped box in his hands, but he was all by himself.

“Langly! What are you doing here? And where are Frohike and Byers?”

“Oh, uh, well,” he started to reply nervously, occasionally looking away from Scully and staring down at the box. “The guys are working on next month’s edition of the paper. And, um, I’ve been working on something myself for the past couple weeks, for… for, uh, Mulder’s birthday. It’s a gift for Mulder, and I, uh, wanted to bring it over to give to you.”

She had no idea what that could possibly be. “Come in.”

He walked inside the apartment, Scully closing the door behind him, and he made his way into the dining area, setting the box down on the rectangular kitchen table. She joined Langly, standing next to the table, and he pushed the box towards her. The giftwrap was blue and shiny, and the box was tied with silver ribbon. “Open it,” he said quietly.

Scully glanced from Langly to the gift, and then carefully untied the silver bow, removing the ribbon from the box. She lifted the giftwrapped lid, and peered inside. There was a brand new portable CD player, black, and a pair of large expensive headphones. There was also a clear plastic case and silver CD inside, with ‘Mulder’ written on it. She looked up at Langly.

“What is this?” asked Scully.

“I spent the last couple weeks going through all our tapes,” Langly replied. “You know, we record all phone calls we receive at the office. Well… I collected recorded phone conversations with Mulder, messages he left on our answering machine, from over the past 11 years, and then copied them onto a compact disc. There’s 80 minutes of Mulder’s voice on that CD.”

Scully was rendered speechless, and could only stare between Langly and the gifts inside the box.

He cleared his throat, averting his eyes nervously. “And I, uh, I saw this thing on TV of, uh, pregnant women playing music for their babies. And I figured, this way you’d have Mulder’s voice. And, you know, you can play this CD for your, your…” His voice trailed off as he looked at Scully.

She stared at Langly, her eyes widening and filling with tears. Scully stepped towards him, raising her arms up around his neck, hugging him. “Thank you,” she whispered through her tears.

He felt awkward, and wasn’t sure what to say. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

“Not to me, it isn’t,” Scully replied, pulling herself out of the hug and wiping the tears from her face.

“I wanted to do something nice for Mulder,” said Langly. “For his birthday.”

She nodded, thanking him again, and then after saying goodbye, Langly left the apartment. Scully took the CD player and disc to her living room, sat on the couch, and tearfully listened to a voice she hadn’t heard in almost five months.

*****

At 9:00 am on Wednesday, October 18th, Doggett entered Deputy Director Kersh's office and sat down next to AD Skinner in front of the desk. He noticed that Kersh had a rather satisfied smirk on his face, while Skinner looked rather frustrated and possibly even sad. Doggett’s stomach tied into knots.

“Smile, John,” said Kersh. “You look tense. I've asked you here to commend you.” He then handed Doggett a letter.

“What's this?” he asked.

Kersh smirked again. “A letter to the Director citing your meritorious efforts in the recovery of Agent Fox Mulder. And a recommendation that you be considered for advancement. I apologize that the letter was so long in coming.”

Doggett felt uncomfortable with this. Was what he did for Mulder truly a ‘recovery?’ He didn’t think so. It felt like a huge failure to him. The case hadn’t even been solved. He hadn’t found any answers to those people who’d been taken from Bellefleur, Oregon. To the other people found at Absalom’s farm. To what truly happened to Agent Mulder. How could this be seen as a success? He looked over at Skinner, who seemed to feel even more uncomfortable with the situation. What was going on here?

“Sir, the Assistant Director here deserves more credit than I…”

“Deputy Director Kersh spoke to me at length before you came up,” Skinner said, speaking tightly and avoiding eye contact with Doggett. “He thanked me and asked me to write you a letter, too.” He paused. “Officially transferring you off the X-Files to a division more suited to your talents.”

He turned to see Kersh smiling at him. “Man of my word, Agent Doggett.”

Doggett gave a small smile in return, not exactly knowing how to react, and stood up from the chair. “Thank you for your support, sir. But all things being equal, I, uh… would like to give any transfer some thought.”

“Fish while they're biting, John,” Kersh said, giving him a warning look.

He nodded his acceptance of the warning, and then Doggett walked out of the office. Something wasn’t right. Skinner’s demeanor was certainly an indicator, but Doggett’s own instincts told him that Kersh’s motives were suspect. It seemed to him, that the FBI was suddenly aware that Scully’s due date was quickly approaching. This would be their best chance to close down the X-Files.

Doggett walked into the basement office, and saw Scully standing in front of a file cabinet looking through some folders. His eyes darted to the ‘I Want to Believe’ poster behind her very pregnant belly. “Hey, good morning, Agent Scully. How you feeling today?”

“I'm fine,” she replied, turning from the cabinet. “How are you feeling?”

“Me? Good,” he said, walking to his desk. “But then I don't got a little J. Edgar to lug around.” He sat down and started looking through the case file on Absalom.

Scully gave him an appraising look. “AD Skinner just called. He told me about your meeting with Kersh.”

Doggett nodded. “Well, whatever he told you I'm still going to be here to drive you crazy with questions and nagging doubt.”

“You'd be crazy to stay, Agent Doggett,” she said. “This is a huge career opportunity for you.”

“It's not my career he's got in mind,” he replied.

Scully furrowed her brows, giving him a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

Doggett looked at her belly. “In six weeks, you go on maternity leave. Kersh transfers me out, guess what? He gets to lock that door over there for good.”

“You don't owe me anything, Agent Doggett,” she said. She had hoped he wasn’t developing some misguided loyalty to her. She knew he was a good agent, and that he would most likely thrive if he took this career opportunity. It would be well-deserved.

“They put me down here to find Mulder,” he told her. “I found him. So what? We still got an open file on this case, and I got big questions.”

She smiled and laughed softly. This whole conversation sounded awfully familiar. She remembered the Tooms case, her and Mulder working alongside Agent Tom Colton and the VCU. She remembered Mulder telling her he wouldn’t hold it against her if she’d rather work with them on the case. She remembered telling Mulder that there must be something to back up his bizarre theory about Tooms, and she wanted to know what it was. She was going to stick with Mulder, even if that meant passing up on a possible opportunity to advance out of the basement.

Doggett looked at her, not expecting that reaction. “What?”

“I heard the same speech come out of my mouth seven years ago,” replied Scully, lowering herself into the chair behind her desk. She wouldn’t wish working the X-Files alone on anyone, and certainly not on her partner. She wished she could come right out and tell him that she wouldn’t be returning from her maternity leave, but she felt guilty and held back. Instead, she encouraged him to take the career opportunity while it was available. “Get out while you can, Agent Doggett. Or you may never get out at all.”


	85. “I’ve returned from the dead to continue with you, but I fear that this danger is now close at hand.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a shocking turn of events, Scully gets another miracle and fights to save the life of the man she loves. Krcyek forces Skinner to make a choice. Doggett realizes he's going to be the odd man out in the basement office. Mulder comes back from the grave to find his world turned upside down, and a dark threat looming on the horizon.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of the episode "DeadAlive" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coldplay – “Gravity”
> 
> Baby, it's been a long time coming  
> Such a long, long time  
> And I can't stop running  
> Such a long, long time  
> Can you hear my heart beating?  
> Can you hear that sound?  
> 'Cause I can't help thinking  
> And I won't stop now
> 
> And then I looked up at the sun  
> And I could see  
> Oh, the way that gravity pulls on you and me  
> And then I looked up at the sky  
> And saw the sun  
> And the way that gravity pushes on everyone  
> On everyone
> 
> Baby, when your wheels stop turning  
> And you feel let down  
> And it seems like troubles  
> Have come all around  
> I can hear your heart beating  
> I can hear that sound  
> But I can't help thinking  
> And I won't look now
> 
> And then I looked up at the sun  
> And I could see  
> Oh, the way that gravity pulls on you and me  
> And then I looked up at the sky  
> And saw the sun  
> And the way that gravity pushes on everyone  
> On everyone

It was just past 11:00 pm on Wednesday, October 18th, when the jarring sound of a ringing phone woke Doggett up from a sound sleep. He reached over to turn on the lamp on his bedside table, and answered the phone.

“Yeah.”

“It's Skinner. I want you to meet me at the Bureau in about 20 minutes.”

Doggett inwardly groaned. He’d never received phone calls like these before he started working the X-Files. “For what?”

Skinner almost couldn’t believe what he was about to do and knew that if he was going to pull Agent Doggett in on this, he had to give him as little information as possible over the phone. “I got a call from the police pathologist down in Wilmington, North Carolina. Fishermen pulled in a dead body 50 miles offshore which they've now ID'd as Billy Miles.”

“Billy Miles?” He knew that name from the case on Mulder.

“Kid from Oregon,” Skinner replied. “He was abducted same time Mulder was last May.”

Doggett didn’t understand the urgency. Mulder was dead. As was this Billy Miles. “So what's the big hurry now?”

Skinner’s stomach was in knots and his heart pounded in his chest, wondering if they still had a chance to save Mulder. “Now he's alive.”

He sat up in bed, listening to the dial tone, before quickly getting to his feet and walking over to his closet. About 25 minutes later, Doggett was standing in the FBI parking garage as Skinner pulled up beside him.

“You told Agent Scully any of what you told me?” Doggett asked after getting into the car.

“No,” replied Skinner.

Doggett didn’t like this at all. During his drive to headquarters, the more he thought about what Skinner had told him, the more he didn’t like it. He worried about Scully. She’d been doing so much better lately. She smiled more often. She wasn’t so pale. She took a lunch break and actually ate a decent meal without him telling her to. He didn’t want this thing to send her spiraling into a bad place.

“My strong recommendation, sir - don't,” said Doggett. “This thing pans out or not, you're going to reopen wounds that still need a lot of healing. Not to mention the fact that she's had a difficult pregnancy. You know that as well as anybody.”

“I appreciate your concern, Agent Doggett, but I wouldn't have told her anyway. Certainly not where we're going.” Skinner still wasn’t even sure he wanted to tell Doggett.

Doggett looked over at his boss. “Where are we going?”

He looked at Doggett, but didn’t answer. Skinner thought it might be best to wait until they crossed state lines. He wouldn’t put it past Doggett to jump out of a moving vehicle.

It was nearly 4:00 am when they entered Oakwood Cemetery in Raleigh, North Carolina and Skinner parked the car. They got out and started making their way across the cemetery. Doggett couldn’t believe what was happening. It was foolish and unnecessary, and not to mention unkind to Scully. It was also fucking insane.

“I'll say it again,” Doggett said to his boss. “We're opening up more than a grave here.”

“I respect that, Agent Doggett, but under the circumstances I think not digging it up would be far more regrettable, don't you?”

Doggett couldn’t see how that was possible. “No. I think this is insanity.”

Skinner knew it was crazy. Crazy things usually happened to Mulder. But if this thing turned out to be true, it might be the craziest thing to ever happen to him. “Yeah, well, personally, I couldn't live with the doubt.”

“That what?” Doggett asked heatedly as he caught sight of a backhoe excavating one of the graves. He already knew which grave it was. “That we buried a man alive? We found Mulder, you and me. We saw the same body. Mulder wasn't just dead; he'd been dead for days. Had to have a closed casket. For crying out loud, the body was too far gone and that was three months ago.”

“The kid they pulled from the ocean, Billy Miles, from the extensive tissue necrosis, they think he could've been in the water for months,” Skinner explained. “Heartbeat, rate of metabolism… it slowed to imperceptibility. I mean, the body had rigored. For all intents and purposes, he was dead. It's a fluke that the doctor even noticed.”

Doggett shook his head in disbelief, glancing over the ‘FOX MULDER 1961 – 2000’ on the headstone. “I don't believe it. I don't believe I'm even standing here.”

Skinner couldn’t really believe it either. But he’d regret it to his dying day if he ignored what was happening to Billy Miles and left Mulder in that grave.

Two and a half hours later, Doggett and Skinner entered the New Hanover County Morgue in Wilmington, North Carolina to find a media circus of reporters and cameras. Skinner was none too pleased at the attention this was receiving after specifically telling the Coroner, Arthur Gaffin, to keep it quiet. Apparently moving Mulder’s body from Raleigh to New Hanover County and requesting the same pathologist who’d discovered Billy Miles was enough to create all this attention.

“I want these people out of here,” Skinner said.

“All right, listen up, ladies and gentlemen,” said Doggett, addressing the reporters and cameramen. “As much as you're here to see the horror show I'm not letting that casket open up until we get some privacy. It's a private matter.” They all turned to leave, walking out of the morgue. “Thank you.”

Dr. Francis Orovetz, the police pathologist, stepped forward. “Agent Skinner, so no one's confused, this is a completely different scenario. I'm only here 'cause you asked for me. I don't expect to find anything in this box but a dead man. It's not going to be _Curse of the Mummy_ , okay? No claw marks on the lid of the coffin.”

Doggett leaned over and spoke quietly to Skinner. “I'll say it again - insanity.”

Skinner felt nervous, and his stomach knotted even more. He didn’t know what to expect. He suddenly didn’t know what he wanted to find. Did he really want to see the decomposing body of Fox Mulder? Did he really want to take Mulder out of there and put him in a hospital like Billy Miles, not knowing what, if anything, could be done for him?

Dr. Orovetz and his assistant opened the coffin. Skinner walked forward for a closer look. Mulder’s body was in the coffin. Scully had buried him in one of his suits, and in his blue oxford shirt. His skin looked pale and gray, but well-preserved. The body inside the coffin was not a decomposing corpse.

Doggett walked over to stand next to Skinner, and looked down into the coffin. “Jesus Christ.” It had been three months since he found Mulder’s dead body out in those Montana woods, and it hadn’t changed a bit.

Skinner and Doggett slowly turned to stare at each other, eyes wide. What now? And who was going to tell Scully?

*****

While she’d been dressing for work on Thursday morning, October 19th, Scully got the phone call from Agent Doggett. She’d nearly dropped the phone. She’d hurriedly finished getting dressed, grabbed her jacket, FBI badge, and car keys, and walked as quickly as she could to her car. She then took the 40 minute drive to the naval hospital in Annapolis, Maryland. She’d been born there, when her father served at the naval station, and she’d spent her childhood on the Annapolis naval base before her family moved to San Diego when she was 10 years old. Never in a million years would she have imagined she’d be returning to Annapolis for this reason.

Before waking that morning, she’d had that dream again. The dream of her memory of Albert Hosteen telling her she had to save Mulder, his words hinting at Mulder’s importance. _“For the sake of us all.”_ What did that mean? For the sake of Albert’s people? For mankind? Scully didn’t want to think about the implications of that, and at the same time, she couldn’t help sometimes feeling the tiny flicker of hope over those words. But if that was somehow true, then why had Mulder been allowed to die?

These thoughts ran around in circles in her head as she’d performed her morning routine. But then she’d received that phone call from Doggett. Was this really happening? It felt like an answer to her prayers, prayers that she’d often felt were foolish. But ever since she started having that dream, she often prayed for Mulder. She didn’t know why and she didn’t really even know what she was praying for, but she continued to pray for him anyways. And now there’d been that phone call from Doggett. All she knew was she had to get to the hospital right away.

Scully entered the US Naval Hospital’s Intensive Care Unit with great urgency, and immediately laid her eyes on Skinner talking quietly with some hospital staff.

“Is it true?” she demanded, walking quickly towards him. Her stomach was knotted and her heart was pounding, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

“Slow down,” Skinner said.

But she wasn’t about to be stopped, and protested. “No. I want to see him.”

Skinner turned to block her approach. “I know you do…”

“No, I need to see him, dammit!” she ordered frantically, emphatically pounding her fists on Skinner’s chest.

“You're not going in there,” he said quietly, grabbing her arms and stopping her. “Scully, you can’t.”

She looked up at him desperately, her eyes beginning to prick with tears, and whispered, “Tell me it's true. Tell me.”

Skinner sighed. “We’re not 100% sure of anything yet. We’ve had a doctor look him over. Two other doctors are with him now.”

Scully glanced over at room number 115, and saw Agent Doggett exit. With her hand protectively on her belly, she walked towards him. “What did they say?”

Doggett felt as though his heart would break. She looked so very small. She was on the verge of tears. This had been a huge mistake. They never should’ve done this. They’d brought Mulder back, only to have him die on Scully all over again. They were ripping open her wounds when they hadn’t even healed.

“I need to see him,” she whispered, her tears threatening to spill over. It wasn’t a frantic demand. She wasn’t protesting. Scully simply needed to see Mulder. She needed him so badly. She felt lost without him.

“I know,” he replied quietly. “But I wish you wouldn't.”

She looked at Doggett a moment, biting her bottom lip, trying to prepare herself for what might be on the other side of that door, and then entered Mulder’s hospital room. She closed the door behind her and walked towards the bed. He was hooked up to life support, a mechanical ventilation tube helping him to breathe, and she watched the screen of the monitor. The green line reassuringly told her his heart was beating. The red numbers told of Mulder’s blood pressure and pulse rate. Another screen monitored his electrical brain activity, while another tracked his oxygen level.

She couldn’t believe her eyes. Was this really possible? Could he really come back to her? She walked closer to the bed, resting her hand for a moment on Mulder's chest, feeling his heartbeat. She then leaned down and lowered her head to his chest, embracing him, and began to cry.

Scully then took up residence in a chair at Mulder’s bedside, where she spent the remainder of the day. She could tell that doctors and nurses thought she was foolish, and Doggett had certainly been displeased, but she wasn't about to budge. Just before 12:00 pm on Friday, October 20th, she heard the door to the room open and she turned to see a comforting sight.

“Dana?” Maggie Scully said, closing the door behind her.

“Mom!” She let go of Mulder’s hand and stood up from the chair. Her mother dropped the duffel bag she’d been carrying on the floor and wrapped her arms around Scully. She hugged her mother back tightly, tears once again filling her eyes. Scully took a deep breath, and then stepped back out of the hug. “Thanks for coming.”

Maggie shook her head. “No need to thank me, honey. Of course I would come. I stopped by your apartment like you asked and packed some of your clothes and personal items.”

She nodded, glancing at the duffel bag on the floor her mother had brought.

“How is he doing?” asked Maggie, looking over at Mulder’s hospital bed.

“No change from earlier,” she replied. “He’s alive. But no one can explain how. And no one can say if he’ll recover or not.” She felt a lump grow in her throat, and she fought back the emotion threatening to overwhelm her. The doctors had speculated on some kind of super hibernation or suspended animation, but no one could say for sure what had been keeping Mulder alive. They also didn’t know how exactly to treat him. The same had been true of Billy Miles.

Maggie squeezed her daughter’s hand. “It’s horrible, what’s happened to him. It’s not fair. I know. But have faith, Dana.”

Scully sighed. She didn’t know how much faith she had left, but she couldn’t deny that this could turn out to be a miracle. Another one. Having Mulder’s child had been the only thing in her life keeping her going. And now the idea that there was a chance, no matter how slim, that Mulder could survive was filling her with hope. Hope that Doggett warned her against earlier that morning. She knew he meant well, that he only spoke and acted out of concern for her. But just that morning Billy Miles had been found wandering the hospital corridor in perfect physical health. While Doggett was fine with believing this to be a simple medical mystery, Scully suspected that something sinister was behind what was happening. And as the two agents assigned to the X-Files, regardless of their personal feelings, it was her and Doggett's duty to investigate what had happened to Mulder and Billy Miles as well as others like them. It was their duty to find out the truth, no matter how much it might hurt.

*****

Just before 9:00 pm on Friday, Skinner walked down the hospital corridor. He’d just left Scully in one of the image viewing rooms, where she was looking over Billy Miles’ test results. He noticed that the door to Mulder's hospital room was standing open. He entered the room knowing exactly what he expected to see. Mulder still lay there, unconscious, hanging onto life by a thread. His chest moved up and down as the ventilator breathed for him. His monitors beeped slowly. But suddenly Skinner was startled by something he hadn’t exactly expected to be there. Krycek was standing in the shadows of the room.

“It's hard to believe, isn't it,” said Krycek quietly. “That Mulder could ever possibly get out of that bed?”

“I need the vaccine, Alex,” Skinner replied, his voice taking on a mixed tone of demand and plea. What Scully worried had happened to Billy Miles, it would probably happen to Mulder. He didn’t want to trust Krycek but he had to, for Mulder’s sake. He was growing desperate.

Krycek nodded his head slightly. “Yeah. Time is wastin’.”

Skinner knew that he wanted something. Krycek was way too self-serving to threaten his life just to save Mulder’s. There was something else he wanted. “What do I have to do?”

“Oh, it's simple, really,” replied Krycek. “Make sure Scully doesn't come to term.”

“You're out of your mind,” Skinner said, staring at him in shock.

Krycek merely stared back at him calmly. “She can't have that baby.”

For Skinner, there was no decision to make. “No. The answer is no.”

“We all have a life in our hands,” Krycek reasoned. “I have yours, you have Mulder's, and Scully has her unborn child. It's who's willing to sacrifice.” He walked towards the hospital room door, turning back to look at the Assistant Director. “Don’t forget, Walter. Time’s a wastin’.”

Skinner watched the door close, a wave of nausea coming over him. It was only a matter of time before Mulder was resurrected anew just like Billy Miles, and according to Scully, that wouldn’t be a good thing. Physically, he was in perfect condition. Too perfect. Mentally, he wasn’t the same person as the young man who’d been taken from Bellefleur. Skinner didn’t know why Krycek wanted Scully’s baby dead, and he didn’t want to know. If that was even his real agenda. Skinner never could tell with him.

But if there was no way Skinner could get the vaccine, and he surely wasn’t going to terminate Scully’s pregnancy for it, and it was only a matter of time before Mulder was reborn as an alien weapon, if Krycek was to be believed, then there was really only one thing to do. Skinner hated himself, but he’d hate himself even more if he didn’t act now.

He walked over to Mulder’s hospital room door, closing and locking it. Skinner suddenly heard Doggett outside the door.

“Assistant Director?” He banged on the door. “Open up. It's John Doggett.”

Skinner had to move quickly and he made his way around the hospital bed, removing the mechanical ventilation tube and other life support systems attached to Mulder. The monitors in the room began beeping loudly. Doggett then suddenly kicked the door open.

“What the hell are you doing?” demanded Agent Doggett.

“You don't understand,” Skinner hastily replied.

Doggett couldn’t reconcile what he knew about Skinner to what was happening right now, but for Scully’s sake he had to be stopped. He grabbed Skinner, slamming him up against the wall. “You're killing him!”

Skinner looked at Doggett sadly. “I had no choice. He wanted me to kill Scully's baby.”

“Who?” he asked.

“Alex Krycek,” Skinner replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “For the vaccine. It's the only way he'd give it to me. But I couldn't trust him. I couldn't do that to her.”

Doggett let go of the Assistant Director. “Where is he?”

Skinner sighed. “He had just left the room. Right before you got here.”

He watched Doggett quickly leave as nurses and a doctor ran towards the room, closely followed by Scully.

“Sir, you took him off the life support?” questioned Scully, her eyes widened in shock.

Skinner could only shake his head and sigh. What could he say?

Scully turned to watch the monitors, her eyes scanning over Mulder’s vital signs. His temperature was dropping rapidly, but his other vital signs remained stable. His blood pressure, pulse rate, and respiration rate all looked good. Mulder was actually breathing on his own. A memory came back to her, from almost six years ago, when Mulder had been infected by the toxins emitted from the blood stream of that Alien Bounty Hunter in Alaska. She had to keep his body temperature down to maintain the hyper-metabolic state. It had been the only thing keeping him alive. Then with transfusions of fresh frozen plasma and an aggressive treatment of anti-viral agents, there had been a steady but gradual improvement in Mulder’s condition. She’d saved him. Her science had saved him.

“We need to get him to the OR now!” Scully demanded, shouting at the doctor and nursing staff, who started moving quickly to obey her order. She then turned to Skinner. “Sir, how did you know this would help Mulder? Were you able to get the vaccine?”

“Agent Doggett is on it,” was all Skinner could reply. How could he tell her what he’d actually done? What his motives truly were? How could he ever tell her what Krycek had asked of him?

*****

On Saturday evening, October 21st, Scully sat beside Mulder’s hospital bed in the ICU, feeling exhausted. He’d left the OR at 3:00 that afternoon, after several rounds of anti-viral treatments, having significantly improved since the night before. He no longer needed any life support systems, his H2O level was healthy and he didn’t even need an oxygen nasal cannula. His body was still badly scarred but as the day went on, more healthy color came back to his face. He no longer looked so gray and pale. Scully could only hope there was no permanent damage, and she could hardly guess what this ordeal had done to his brain function. The EEG’s all came back healthy, but deep down there was a fear that he wouldn’t be himself, that fear no doubt stemming from her strange conversation with the miraculously-healed Billy Miles. But she felt confident that she’d at least spared Mulder from what had awaited him if the virus had taken over.

Mulder lay on the bed, still unconscious, and Scully reached for his hand, holding it with hers and rubbing his fingers with her thumb. Even this was a blessing. Just to touch him again. To be there for him, whether or not the treatment actually worked. Whether or not he recovered in the long run. To be there for him in his last moments of life had been cruelly taken away from her three months ago. He’d suffered without her by his side. She felt she’d been given another chance to be there for him when he needed her most.

Suddenly his hand twitched and she looked up, her eyes widening. Her heart started pounding and the baby started kicking. She felt as if she herself were coming back to life. She hadn't felt this alive since before Mulder had been taken. She watched him slightly move his head from side to side. Oh, God. Was this really happening?

“Mulder…” she whispered.

He heard the familiar voice. A soft hand was gripping his. He swallowed and slowly blinked his eyes open, turning his head to look at her. Scully was sitting there, on the verge of tears or laughter or maybe both. He watched her lips quiver as if she was searching for the right words to say. Was he dreaming? Was Scully really there?

“Hi,” she said, not really knowing what else to say. She still couldn’t believe this was happening. Was her nightmare really over? She hadn’t really had time to process her emotions. And the baby was kicking her like crazy.

Mulder stared at her as she smiled at him. She looked different. Her hair was longer, and more shiny. Her skin glowed. Her eyes sparkled. She looked relieved and happy. But she also looked tired and worried, and possibly even frightened. He had a strange feeling that a lot of time had passed, but he had no clear idea just how much. This was Scully, sitting there with him, but he’d never seen her emit such mixed signals. He now knew that he was once again in a hospital, and he was the patient. Mulder immediately needed to calm her fears, and so he was going to do what he did best.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice raspy.

Scully's face fell. She hadn’t counted on amnesia, or anything like it. How could she ever begin to explain who she was? And who they were? She was still trying to figure out how to respond to that question when Mulder gave her a small, teasing smile, his eyes giving off affectionate warmth.

She sobbed in relief, half laughing, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, my God. Don't do that to me.” They gazed at each other, and he smiled sweetly at her. He felt this was a dream come true.

“Do you know? Do you have any idea what you've been through?” she asked him.

“Only what I see in your face,” Mulder replied. He had a vague idea of what had happened to him, but at the moment it was all an obscure blur. He felt he could remember clearly if he set his mind to it, but he didn’t want to right now. He could see the mixture of relief and anxiety in Scully’s face. Being the patient, he only wanted to ease her fear and comfort her.

Scully reached over and ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it back from his forehead as he gazed at her. An act she’d performed countless times before. It was as if she was telling him all was right in the world now that they were together. As if she was telling him everything was okay now. He smiled at her. Scully’s face crumpled, and she pressed her face to his chest, laying her head down on his shoulder and holding his hand with hers.

“Anybody miss me?” Mulder quipped sarcastically.

She laughed through her tears, and kissed his shoulder. He gazed down over the top of her head. The door suddenly opened and Scully looked see Agent Doggett standing there. She had no desire to quickly sit up, to remove her head from Mulder’s chest in an effort to maintain professionalism, as she might’ve done had this been a year or even six months ago. What did she have to hide anymore? Certainly nothing from Doggett. She wasn’t about to leave the room now, and whatever Doggett had to tell her could wait. He looked at her for a moment, and then left the room.

Mulder closed his eyes again, feeling no interest in whoever it was who’d been at the door. He didn’t want to see anyone else, talk to anyone else. He rested his head near Scully's, breathing in her familiar scent. It was sweet, like vanilla or clover. He remembered. She closed her eyes, laying her head on Mulder's shoulder. Almost right away, his exhaustion pulled him under, and with Scully's comforting presence filling his senses, he fell back asleep.

*****

Early on Sunday morning, just after sunrise, Doggett arrived back at the hospital. He stood in the doorway of Mulder’s hospital room, watching Scully doze in the chair next to the bed. She looked different, somehow. Her legs were bent underneath the seat, her right hand resting on the swell of her belly and the other rested along the edge of the bed. Doggett thought she must’ve fallen asleep while holding Mulder’s hand. Her head lolled from side to side ungracefully. He smirked at this uncharacteristic display of total relaxation. It was a sight he rarely ever got to see, except for that one time she fell asleep at her desk in the office. Doggett had chuckled about that for days.

As she opened her eyes and looked at him, Kersh’s words rang in his ears. _“It's going to be awful crowded down in that X-Files office.”_ Doggett had almost wanted to laugh at the irony. He’d been given a letter of recommendation for the ‘recovery’ of Fox Mulder’s dead body. But now that Mulder was truly recovered, alive and well, Doggett was being sandbagged. To hell with Kersh. But now he had no idea what the future had in store. Was Mulder even going to return to work? And when would he be well enough for that to be a possibility? What happened when Scully goes out on maternity leave? And when her maternity leave is up? What then?

Scully quietly got up from the chair and he entered the room fully, shutting the door behind him. Doggett couldn’t imagine her wanting to work with him, now that Mulder was back. She’d want her old partner, her real partner. He suddenly had a memory of himself lying in a hospital room in New York, having been shot in the leg while on duty, and a very pregnant blonde sitting beside him. _“What do you think of the name Luke for a boy?”_ Doggett furiously pushed the memory back, burying it, and approached her until they were both standing at the foot of Mulder’s bed.

“Oh, my God, John,” Scully said, her eyes widening at the sight of his bruises. “What happened to your face?”

“It’s nothing,” he sighed. “Really.”

Her brows furrowed, but she wasn’t going to press him if he didn’t want to talk about it. “What are you doing here?”

Doggett slightly shrugged his shoulders. “Checkin’ up on Mulder. And, I, uh… wanted to talk to you, actually.”

“What about?” Scully asked.

“Well, as it turns out, Kersh has rescinded his offer,” he replied. “So, I guess I’m staying with the X-Files.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry.”

He grinned down at her. “Sorry that you’re stuck down in the basement with me?”

“No,” Scully said, giving him a slight smirk. “I’m sorry that Kersh did that to you, that he didn’t even let you have a choice.”

“Oh, he did give me a choice,” replied Doggett, correcting her. “And I made that choice the moment Kersh told me to back off the investigation into what happened to Agent Mulder.” He wasn’t sure whether he regretted that choice now or not. He certainly didn’t regret it for Scully’s sake, but he was undecided when it came to his own.

Her eyes widened. “What? When did that happen?”

Doggett shrugged. “A couple days ago. Anyways, how do you think Mulder will feel about the three of us cozying up together down in the basement office?” He’d grinned at her and his tone had been lighthearted, but the look that had come over her face wasn’t very encouraging. She looked confused and she averted her eyes, her brows knitting, and she chewed her bottom lip.

He reached to gently grasp her shoulder. She sighed, and he rubbed her arm reassuringly. He wished he knew what she was thinking. Doggett was sure that in the basement, he was going to be the odd man out with Mulder and Scully. But maybe they’d figure out how to work the X-Files unit with three agents. It might not be so bad. “Things will work out. Trust me.”

Before she could give a reply to that, a voice interrupted them.

“Scully?”

Doggett turned to see the wide-eyed stare of Fox Mulder as he lay in his hospital bed. Mulder’s eyes darted between Scully and Doggett, anxiety written on his face.

She moved away from Doggett, and walked over to the side of the bed she’d left a few moments before. “Mulder, are you all right?”

At this moment, the door opened and Skinner entered the room. Doggett turned to address him. “Hello, sir. Agent Mulder is awake.”

“Yes, I can see that,” said Skinner, looking over at Mulder.

“Well, I’m going home,” Doggett stated, before turning back to look at Scully. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

Scully looked uncomfortable. “Um… I don’t know, John. Maybe. I’ll call you.”

Doggett nodded and he left the hospital room. He knew he should be pissed at Kersh for railroading him again. And Kersh could honestly go fuck himself. But Doggett wasn’t all that disappointed. He hadn’t really wanted to leave the X-Files. At first, that know-it-all look on Scully’s face had irked the shit out of him and he’d quickly come to learn that if she didn’t actually know it all, she’d certainly seen it all. All those X-Files she’d worked with Mulder. The work they’d done was truly amazing, and Doggett actually felt privileged to be a part of it. He wanted the truth, too. He wanted answers. And Scully was the best agent he’d ever worked with. Also, as it turned out, Mulder wasn’t really all that crazy. Doggett trusted Scully, and because of her he was sure Mulder was someone who could be trusted.

But Doggett had a strong feeling that now the storm of Mulder’s abduction and death was over, another one was probably going to start. Perhaps by Kersh and the FBI. Maybe by some outside force, by whoever or whatever had done this to Mulder and the other abductees. Mulder had literally come back from the dead. He’d been preserved alive for three months, buried underground. And if anyone in the FBI had doubts, well, Doggett was sure they would be able to just come on down to the basement and have a look for themselves.

Between what that wacko Absalom had told him when he’d visited the guy in prison, to what happened to Billy Miles, to Mulder’s recovery, it was all unbelievable to Doggett. And yet, aliens seemed more and more to be the most logical explanation, as much as he hated to admit it. This realization made him eager to stick with the X-Files. But there was one potential problem. AD Kersh was probably right. It was going to be awfully crowded down in that basement office. And the odd man out would be Doggett. The third wheel, the intruder, would be himself.

*****

Mulder could hear hushed voices talking, and he thought one of them was Scully. He didn’t recognize the other. Maybe she was talking to a nurse or a doctor. He opened his eyes to see Scully standing at the foot of the bed, a look of confusion and anxiety on her face, talking to a man he didn’t know. He was wearing a black trench coat, and he doubted the guy was a doctor. Mulder watched the man’s hand rub Scully’s arm, and then he lowered his gaze.

Blinking several times, Mulder stared at Scully’s very pregnant belly. He then looked back to the man’s hand on Scully’s arm, and the unhappy expression on her face.

“Things will work out,” the man said quietly. “Trust me.”

Mulder watched Scully nod in agreement, sighing. Who was that man? And what was he to Scully? Mulder once again stared at her belly, his stomach knotting. He suddenly realized that he had no idea what day it was, what month, or even what year. He kept staring at Scully’s belly. How long had he been gone?

“Scully?” he said, hoping to keep the worry out of his voice.

She immediately backed away from the man and came round the bed to stand next to Mulder, asking him if he was all right. He didn’t know. He supposed that all depended on what kind of answers he got to his questions. But then AD Skinner was standing there and he didn’t seem all that shocked to find this man in the room with Scully. So Skinner obviously knew who he was.

“Mulder? Are you okay?” She sat down in the chair, grasping his hand. She looked concerned. He didn’t know how to answer. He thought he might puke. Or maybe cry. He’d probably end up doing both by the day’s end.

The man then asked Scully if he’d see her the next day, and then she called him ‘John.’ Mulder’s stomach knotted even more and he stared at her. Who the fuck was John?

His attention then turned to the closing door, and this John person was gone. Leaving only Skinner and Scully in the room with him. “I’d like to sit up,” Mulder said.

Scully nodded, and pressed the correct button on the remote attached to the bed. In seconds, Mulder was in a sitting position and he assured her that he was comfortable. He looked at Skinner, who was standing there, speechless.

“It was Assistant Director Skinner who helped save your life,” Scully said to Mulder.

He immediately noticed Skinner looking extremely uncomfortable, looking down at his shoes with furrowed brows. He still hadn’t said a word to Mulder since he came into the room.

“Don’t act so surprised, Skinner,” said Mulder. “It’s not the first time I’ve come back from the dead. And apparently I have you to thank for it.”

Skinner sighed. “Dana, I’d like to talk to Mulder alone.”

Dana? Since when did Skinner call Scully ‘Dana?’ What was with the first names? Mulder looked at Scully, and he saw a defensive posture come over her very pregnant body. He still couldn’t wrap his head around that belly.

“It’s okay, Scully,” Mulder said, hoping to sound reassuring.

She nodded, and then left the room.

Mulder looked over at Skinner. “Come on, Walter. You’re not gonna start crying and blubbering all over me, are you?”

“Do you expect me to cry?” replied Skinner, still standing at the foot of the bed.

“I expect…,” Mulder paused. “I expect you’ve been keeping a close eye on Scully.”

Skinner nodded. “As much as she’d allow me to, yes.”

Mulder sighed. “She’s pregnant, you know.”

“Yeah, I kind of noticed,” Skinner retorted.

“Christ,” breathed Mulder. He was starting to get flashbacks of memory, but he still had no sense of time. He wanted to ask Skinner how long he had been gone. He wanted to ask Skinner how far along was Scully’s pregnancy. He wanted to ask Skinner just who the fuck was that John guy. But as much as he wanted to know, Mulder was also afraid to find out. So he avoided asking altogether. “Anyways, thanks for saving my life.”

Skinner walked over to sit in the chair that Scully had practically lived in for the past couple days. “I need to tell you something. And by the time I finish, you’re going to hate me. But don’t worry, I expect you to. I deserve it.”

Mulder eyed Skinner suspiciously. Was he about to learn the reason for Scully’s pregnant belly? Was Skinner the one responsible for that? However, the tale Mulder was told had little to do with the origin of Scully’s pregnancy and everything to do with Alex Krycek.

“It wasn’t my intention to save your life,” Skinner said quietly, his head bent, staring at his hands. “What I did…”

“You made the right choice,” stated Mulder firmly.

Skinner looked up at him, his eyes widening in surprise.

Mulder sighed. “Listen to me. If a choice ever has to be made between me or Scully, or… or her baby, the choice must always be them. Always. No matter what. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” replied Skinner, nodding.

“Why did Krycek even…” Mulder started to ask.

Skinner shook his head. “I have no idea. He never explained his reasons.” He sighed, and stood up from the chair. “Well, I’m sure you and Scully have a lot to talk about. I should go.”

Mulder watched him walk around the bed. “Wait, uh, sir…”

“What is it?” Skinner asked.

“Don’t say anything to Scully about Krycek,” answered Mulder. “I wouldn’t want to make her worry about something that she probably doesn’t even need to worry about. He’s not to be trusted. Who even knows what his real motives were.”

Skinner nodded. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Mulder then watched him walk out the door, Scully entering the room as he left. She came over and sat down in the chair by the bed. “How’s Skinner? He looked kind of upset. I suppose he still feels guilty about what happened in Oregon.”

At her words, memories started flooding back to him. The Oregon woods. The Alien Bounty Hunter. The ship. The pain and the fear. The desperate anguish. He felt panic. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest, his stomach knotted, and he started breathing heavily.

“Scully,” he said, in a panicked voice that also begged ‘Help me’ at the same time.

“Mulder, it’s okay,” she whispered, her hand reaching out to stroke his forehead, brushing his hair back. “It’s all right.”

He stared at her other hand, caressing her swollen abdomen, and swallowed, bracing himself. “Scully… how long have I been gone?”

She gave him a small smile, her fingers dropping to caress his face. “Just about five months. Today is Sunday, October 22nd, 2000.”

A wave of relief washed over him. He'd dreaded the worst possible scenario, that he'd been gone so long Scully had found someone else, that some guy had talked her into trying IVF again and it actually worked with someone else. Mulder felt sweet relief that wasn't the case. But the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach still hadn’t dissipated and he pulled his face back from her hand. “You’re pregnant.”

“Yes, I am,” she replied, her hand dropping to her lap. She wished there had been a better way to tell him this news, or better timing. But these days her belly spoke for her, before she could ever have the chance to speak first.

“How far along are you?” Mulder asked.

Scully sighed. “Seven months… 28 weeks.”

They stared at each other. Mulder counted backwards in his head. Scully hoped for some kind of positive reaction. They were still silently gazing at one another when the door opened, and Mulder’s physician, Dr. Nelson Lim, entered the room to go over some test results.

*****

For the rest of the day, every time Mulder got up the nerve to broach the subject of the pregnancy, some nurse or doctor came into the room to poke and prod him; Mrs. Scully or the Charlie Scully clan showed up to visit him. Mulder actually felt thankful for this. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to talk to Scully right now about the fact she was pregnant. Memories kept coming back to him, horrible memories that he wanted to forget. When he wasn’t plagued by these memories, he was plagued with guilt.

Why did he just let himself get taken? Why didn’t he fight? Why didn’t he stay behind? Why had he gone back to Oregon? That had been the worst mistake of his life, and it had cost him more than he could comprehend at the moment. Scully was seven months pregnant. Life had just gone on without him, life that he’d missed out on. But how did she even get pregnant? She’d been positive the last IVF attempt failed. Too many confusing thoughts, worries, and fears ran in circles in his head, leaving him overwhelmed and exhausted.

Mulder felt grateful when, after he and Mrs. Scully insisted on it, Scully finally left the hospital to go home and take a hot shower, and get a good night’s sleep in her own bed. She promised Mulder she’d be back in the morning and after a prolonged anxious gaze at him, she silently left his room.

On Sunday night, in his quiet and darkened hospital room, Mulder eventually fell asleep with his bed still upright at a 45o angle and the TV on. His nightmares were terrible. He awoke with a start, sweating and breathing hard. His hands frantically moved to reassure himself that he was indeed still in the hospital, lying in bed, and not strapped to a metal chair on that ship. His breathing then calmed, and he closed his eyes again.

“You look like death, brother. I’m surprised you don’t smell.”

Mulder’s eyes flew open, and he watched Krycek emerge from a far corner of the room. His eyes widened.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to kill you,” Krycek said, walking around the bed and sitting down in Scully’s chair.

“Why do I find that hard to believe?” replied Mulder.

Krycek shook his head. “I’ve never wanted you dead, Mulder. Although you do look like a corpse.”

He shot him a sarcastic look, which then hardened. “No, you only wanted Scully’s baby dead.”

“Well, it was worth a shot,” Krycek shrugged. “But I knew Skinner was never going to harm Scully, or her baby. And he saved your life. So I guess you should be thanking me.”

“What about that miracle vaccine of yours?” Mulder asked. “Skinner said you smashed the bottle.”

Krycek chuckled. “Mulder, you already have the vaccine against the black virus in your system. Or have you forgotten what happened to you in Tunguska?”

He glared at him. “I haven’t forgotten that you left me in that prison to rot, you one-armed son of a bitch.”

“Such language,” Krycek tsked. “I’m only trying to help you. The whole planet’s about to take it up the ass and you’ve been granted immunity. So don’t be angry about what happened there in Russia. You’ve got bigger problems.”

“Yeah, like what?” Mulder replied bitterly. If only he felt strong enough to get out of this bed and kick Krycek’s ass.

Krycek eyed him. “Like that baby, for one.”

Mulder stared, his eyes widening slightly. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Ha!” Krycek laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s perfect. A little too fucking perfect, I’m guessing.”

“It’s just a baby,” replied Mulder, almost trying to reassure himself against the doubts now starting to creep in.

Krycek’s expression hardened. “You have no idea just how dangerous that baby is,” he said darkly.

Mulder had no idea what that meant. “If you do anything to Scully, or her baby…”

“You’re not exactly in the position to make threats right now, are you?” Krycek responded. “Look, I’m doing you a favor here. I don’t have to tell you any of this.”

“You haven’t told me anything!” Mulder spit back.

Krycek eyed him. “You know why you were taken. You know why they did those things to you. Billy Miles shed his skin and is now walking around with an alien brain. He’s just one of many. If you try real hard and think back to when you were on that ship, you’ll know the reason for that. And you’ll know that could’ve happened to you.”

Mulder looked down at his hands on his lap, remembering. He could hear voices on the ship, he felt his body being mutilated and invaded. “It’s happening, isn’t it? It’s starting.”

“And whichever side has the most powerful weapon is gonna win the war,” Krycek stated. He then stood up from the chair and walked over to the door, opening it and then pausing, turning back to look at Mulder. “I do hope you enjoy fatherhood over the next couple months, but don’t get too attached. They’re never gonna let you raise that kid.”

And then Krycek was gone, leaving Mulder to stare silently at the door. He then laid awake for the rest of the night.

*****

On Monday morning, October 23rd, Scully walked into Mulder’s hospital room to find him sitting up in bed, staring at the television. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he greeted her, not looking away from the TV.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, anxious concern filling her voice. Her stomach was tightening into knots.

Mulder nodded his head. “Yep. Everything’s fine.”

Scully’s eyes widened and as she started to walk over to the foot of the bed, to stand between Mulder and the television, to force him to look at her, the door opened and Dr. Lim entered.

“How are we feeling today?” Dr. Lim asked.

“Oh, pretty damn good for someone who was in a coffin just a few days ago,” Mulder quipped.

Dr. Lim chuckled. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

Mulder smirked. “I guess it’s a good thing she didn’t have me cremated.”

The doctor started laughing. Mulder grinned, but then glanced over and caught Scully’s eye. She stared at him, not feeling amused. His face fell slightly as he gazed back at her, his stomach turning with anxiety once again. His eyes fell to her belly and then he looked away, trying to give his undivided attention to Dr. Lim.


	86. “I was angry at the injustice of it, and its meaninglessness."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder starts displaying signs of Posttraumatic Stress Disorder and Scully worries. When it's finally time for her to take him home from the hospital, they are both greeted with unexpected changes.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from the episode "Three Words" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Florence and the Machine – “Hardest of Hearts”
> 
> There is love in your body but you can't hold it in  
> It pours from your eyes and spills on your skin  
> Tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks  
> And the kindest of kisses break the hardest of hearts
> 
> The hardest of hearts
> 
> There is love in your body but you can't get it out  
> It gets stuck in your head, won't come out of your mouth  
> Sticks to your tongue and it shows on your face  
> That the sweetest of words have the bitterest taste
> 
> Darling heart, I loved you from the start  
> But you'll never know what a fool I've been  
> Darling heart, I loved you from the start  
> But that's no excuse for the state I'm in
> 
> The hardest of hearts
> 
> There is love in our bodies and it holds us together  
> But pulls us apart when we're holding each other  
> We all want something to hold in the night  
> We don't care if it hurts or we're holding too tight
> 
> There is love in your body but you can't get it out  
> It gets stuck in your head, won't come out of your mouth  
> Sticks to your tongue and it shows on your face  
> That the sweetest of words have the bitterest taste
> 
> Darling heart, I loved you from the start  
> But you'll never know what a fool I've been  
> Darling heart, I loved you from the start  
> But that's no excuse for the state I'm in
> 
> The hardest of hearts
> 
> My heart swells like a water at weight  
> Can't stop myself before it's too late  
> Hold on to your heart 'cause I'm coming to take it  
> Hold on to your heart 'cause I'm coming to break it
> 
> The hardest of hearts (hold on)

Why didn’t he fight? Why didn’t he try to run? Why did he seemingly just hand himself over? He was used as a lab rat. Flashes of memory assaulted him. Endless days and nights of terror, if there had even been any concept of time on that ship. He remembered crying out in agony, he remembered the excruciating pain. He remembered the frightening voices, ringing inside his head. He couldn’t fight back. He was rendered helpless. And he’d wanted to die, he’d wanted to just give up. He supposed he had.

What would it take to crush a man’s spirit? How long would he have to be treated as an insignificant object before he started to feel less than human? What would it take to break a man? In one instant, Mulder had lost everything – his freedom, his pride, his dignity, the woman he loved. And it was his own doing, because of his own actions.

Now he sat there weakly on his hospital bed, wearing an emasculating gown, listening to the beeping of various monitors. The television was on, but the volume was muted and he had no interest in it. He’d come back from the dead, but he felt a part of him was missing. Maybe it was still in that coffin. Or maybe he’d left it behind on that godforsaken ship. But whatever it was, or wherever it was, he couldn’t muster up enough effort to search for that part of him he thought he might’ve lost.

Mulder stood up from the bed, turning and holding on to the edge to get his balance. He hadn’t walked in months, and his legs felt weak. He’d never felt more useless, helpless, and out of place. He sighed and walked to the bathroom. After emptying his bladder, he stared at himself in the mirror. The reflection looking back at him was ugly. He’d been dead, and now he was ugly. He repeated this word inside his mind over and over again, joining the others that had been playing like a broken record, ‘weak,’ ‘worthless,’ and ‘repulsive.’

He brought his hand up to lower the front of his hospital gown, revealing the scar that bisected his torso, from his chest to his navel. It wasn’t some minor, flat scar that would be hard to determine unless you were looking closely, the color of which matching almost exactly to one’s skin tone. This thing was long, red, and raised. It was hideous.

Maybe it might’ve been possible to hide the truth from Scully if he hadn’t looked so terrible, if his scars hadn’t been so severe. If only he’d come back to her in the same physical state that he’d taken with him to Oregon. He might’ve been able to look her in the eye and lie to her. He could’ve told her that the tests hadn’t been too terrible. He could’ve told her that they never hurt him, that they’d never sliced and drilled his body, that the pain had never been so bad that it eventually blinded him and left him numb. He could’ve told her that he never begged them to stop, he never begged for his death. He could’ve told her that he never let go of faith, of hope, that he never let go of himself. He could’ve looked her in the eye and pretended he was the same man who’d left her all those months ago.

But his scars told the truth, and made it impossible for him to lie. Scully hadn’t asked him again what he’d been through, asked him if he remembered anything that he’d endured. She probably didn’t have to. She just had to take one look at him, one look at his horribly scarred body, to know the truth. In his final moments of consciousness, he’d somehow mustered the strength and the will to demand that he see Scully again before he died. Just one more time. He had no idea who or what he was demanding this of. God, the aliens, fate. He didn’t know. And as he stood there, staring at his grotesque reflection, he still couldn’t believe that his request had been carried out. But even though he’d desperately wanted to see Scully once more, he’d never wanted to see himself again. He hadn’t counted on this particular twist of fate.

Mulder heard the door to his hospital room open and close, and he sighed. He turned from the sink and walked back out to the room, finding Scully standing at the end of his bed, unloading some items from a duffel bag. He quickly glanced around the room, noticing the vases filled with flowers and the cards he’d been sent over the last couple days. The sunshine coming through the window bathed her in natural light, and her red hair gleamed. The blue of her eyes was bright, and painfully deep. Was it possible she’d gotten even more beautiful in his absence? The welcoming warmth and kindness of her smile dried up Mulder’s mouth, forcing him to swallow, and his eyes glued to her face.

“Hi, Mulder,” Scully greeted him. “Good morning.”

“Hey,” he said, his voice gravelly. He still marveled at her voice, even though he knew it well, and the way his name sounded when she spoke it. The timbre and texture of her voice moved him, soft and warm and deeper than he would’ve expected just by looking at her. Her voice resonated inside his head. Maybe because he’d gone so long without hearing it. “Um, you’re here earlier than usual.”

She nodded her agreement, and then lifted the duffel bag slightly off the bed. “Well, I brought some things you might like to have. I got today’s _New York Times_ , the latest issue of _Sports Illustrated_ , and a special edition of _The Lone Gunman_ paper, from a few months ago and which you might find interesting.”

“Thanks,” replied Mulder, nodding his head and trying to look at the items on the bed instead of at her.

Scully sighed and sat down in the chair against the wall, watching him walk slowly over to sit on the bed. She knew he’d gone through a terrible ordeal, that he’d suffered, but she wished he wouldn’t shut her out. On Sunday night, her mother had stood with her in the hallway outside and told her that Mulder just needed time to readjust, as he was understandably just out of sorts. Scully hoped that’s all it was. But most of the time he couldn’t look her in the eye, and he spent a lot of time pointedly looking anywhere but at her pregnant belly. She wanted to talk about it, but felt Mulder was dealing with enough right now and personal conversations could wait.

Mulder sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up _The Times_ , glancing over the front page. The date told him it was Wednesday, October 25th. He was still trying to regain his sense of time and place. Every morning he woke up and had no idea what day it was or what time of year, whether it was spring or summer, autumn or winter. He must’ve asked every person who’d entered his room what day it was, and Mulder suspected he was becoming an annoyance to the hospital staff. On Tuesday morning, some nurse aides had kindly brought in a corkboard with plastic cards that had large black lettering so he would know the date every day. But it’d made him feel like an imbecile, and Mulder had heatedly demanded they take it out of his room. Scully had stood against the wall, her eyes wide and her face reddening at his outburst of anger. He felt ashamed of himself, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Scully asked, looking him over from where she sat in the chair.

“I’m… fine,” he replied, briefly looking up from the paper.

At this a young nurse, Ashley, who was probably in her early to mid-20’s, walked into the room, her black hair held back in a ponytail. “Hi, Mr. Mulder. Time for your antibiotic cream, for your chest.”

Scully stood up from the chair. “I can do that.”

“Are you sure, Dr. Scully?” the nurse asked.

She nodded, but then Mulder protested. “Scully, come on. You don’t have to do that. It’s Ashley’s job. Let her do it.”

Scully stared at him, her brows knitting in confusion. Since when did he prefer someone else to care for him instead of her? Mulder averted his eyes, and crossed his arms defensively. The nurse glanced between them, and then cleared her throat.

“Why don’t I just leave the tube here,” Ashley said, setting the antibiotic cream down on the wooden overbed table against the wall. “If you need me, just ring the call bell.”

She watched the young nurse leave the room and moved over to the table, grabbing a pair of latex gloves and the tube of medication. She then walked over to stand in front of Mulder. He watched her eyes travel over his ugly, scarred face, and his chest tightened with an aching pain. His arms maintained their crossed position over his chest but then her small hand came up, wrapping around his forearm and pulling it down gently.

“Don’t. Please.” He didn’t want her to see any more of the horrific damage than she had already. He wished they could just pretend none of this had ever happened. They were both pretty good at pretending things were fine, if he recalled correctly.

“Mulder, what is it?” she asked quietly. She wished he would open up and tell her everything that was bothering him. “Tell me.”

He looked into her pleading eyes, and gazed at her. She was Scully, but she was so much more than that. She was more than an FBI agent, more than a doctor, more than a friend, than a lover, than a partner. She was going to be a mother, carrying something that was supposed to have been impossible. She literally carried hope around with her. She was so much more than the woman he’d left behind back in the spring, and he was so much less than the man he had been.

She sighed, and reached to pull the collar of his hospital gown.

“Scully, don’t!” protested Mulder, pushing her hand from his gown.

Startled by this outburst, she stepped back and looked intensely at him, her eyes widening. “Let me do this, Mulder.” She spoke gently, but her tone was determined. Scully brought her fingers back up to the collar of his gown but instead of immediately pushing it down, she softly stroked his skin along the collar. Back and forth, caressing across his collarbone and back down along the gown to his chest.

“Please stop,” Mulder said, resolutely looking away from her.

“Tell me why,” Scully whispered.

She thought his voice sounded far away, and still rough from not having used it in so long. She withdrew her hand from his collar, showing him that she respected his wishes. She moved her hand to his bicep, gently holding his arm, but he jerked it away from her.

Her eyes filled with tears. “Mulder, look at me.”

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to see the look come over her face when she realized the man she once loved was actually dead. He’d died on that ship. Or maybe he was still in that cemetery in North Carolina. He felt like a living echo of the man he used to be, and he knew his heart would break the moment Scully realized that the only thing that came back to her was that echo. Just a shadow of the man he once was. When her joy and relief over his return becomes worn down and real life is resumed, she’d discover the truth. And it would only hurt her, as if his choice to go back to Oregon hadn’t hurt her enough. She was positively glowing with life, and he’d come back to her an ugly, scarred, empty shell of a man.

“Mulder.” It had become clear to Scully that he didn’t want to be touched. He’d allowed her to that first night when he’d finally woken up, but since then he’d flinched at any attempts at physical contact, at any movement into his personal space. Maybe touch frightened him, made him feel trapped. Maybe spending three months in a coffin had created some kind of new phobia to go along with his fear of fire. Or maybe he was ashamed of what had been done to him, the damage inflicted on him when he’d been helpless to stop it. Maybe he just didn’t want her to see the scars, visible and invisible.

Scully took his hand in hers. “I know what you’re thinking. But you’re wrong, Mulder.”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” he spit out bitterly. He sharply pulled his hand from hers, crossing his arms defensively again. Mulder expected her to cry, or recoil from him in anger and walk out of the room. But she didn’t. She remained planted there in front of him. Silence filled the room and it seemed to go on forever. He nervously looked at anything in the room but in her eyes, afraid to learn that she’d found out the truth about him.

“Mulder, I do,” replied Scully quietly. Her voice was gentle, free from anger or contempt. He hesitantly looked her in the eye. “If there’s anyone who could possibly understand, it’s me. You’re not the only one who’s been abducted. Or have you forgotten?”

He stared at her, his eyes widening. Of course he hadn't forgotten. He knew horrible things had been done to her.

She sighed. “They hurt me. I know they hurt you. I know how you feel. And I know what you’re thinking. But trust me when I tell you that you’re wrong. And trust me when I tell you that it will get better.”

Tears filled his eyes, and he reached back to untie the strings of the gown behind his neck, letting the gown fall forward a little. After donning the latex gloves, Scully grabbed the antibiotic cream, spreading some on her gloved forefinger, and gently applied the medication to the scar bisecting Mulder’s chest and abdomen.

*****

His body twisted around in the bed, tangling in the sheets. There were tubes on his hands, a monitor attached to his finger. He felt constricted. Sweat poured from his brow. His chest ached, and he couldn’t breathe. He was trying to move, but someone or something was drilling a bolt through his wrists and ankles, restraining him to the bed. Something was soaking the sheets. He thought it might be his blood.

“Scully!” he shouted.

“Mulder, shh, it’s okay.” Scully was there by his side in the darkened room, illuminated only by the television screen. He’d cried for her a thousand times on that ship, but this time she was really there. Her cool hand soothed his forehead, brushed against his cheek. “You’re okay. It was just a nightmare.”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t asleep. I think… I think it was a flashback.” His fingers went to his chest, his wrists, his face, feeling his scars. They weren’t as bad as when he’d first woken up in the hospital, but they were still pronounced. He wished he wasn’t forced to relive the torture he’d endured on that ship. Going through it once was bad enough. He trembled and pulled the blankets up over his chest, hoping Scully would think he had just felt cold.

“Are you all right?” she asked, looking over the monitors. Everything looked okay to her.

“I’ll be fine, just don’t make me go to school today, _Mom_ ,” he quipped.

Scully sighed. “Fine. I’ll just write a note for Principal Kersh.”

Mulder shot her a sarcastic stare. “Please don’t say that name. I’ve suffered enough.”

“Oh, well, then I guess you’ll be suffering a lot more,” she replied. “Kersh is the FBI’s new Deputy Director.”

“Don’t even fucking joke about that,” he said.

She stared at him, arching an eyebrow. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

He met her gaze. Kersh? And he thought Cassidy was a real pain in the ass. “Jesus Christ. I’ve been resurrected from the dead only to find my days are numbered.”

“You should get that printed on a t-shirt,” Scully quipped. She wanted to mention that their days were numbered when they went off to Oregon. That the FBI had already been threatening to close the X-Files with that financial audit. That Mulder had told her he was ready to hand in his resignation and walk away. But she felt strongly that the subject of Oregon was off-limits, at least right now. He always completely shut down whenever it was mentioned. She figured he’d talk about it when he was ready, which was the excuse she was starting to make for everything.

Mulder hadn’t asked her a single question about the pregnancy or the baby since he’d asked her how far along she was, and that had been days ago. He didn’t ask her about the X-Files. He didn’t ask her about her life, what it had been like while he’d been gone, how she’d coped without him, what had transpired in his absence. He asked her nothing personal. In fact, he rarely initiated conversation at all.

She sat back in the chair, her hands resting on her belly. Mulder looked over at her, thinking about what Krycek had said. He hadn’t given Mulder any real details, and he’d given nothing to actually prove what little he had said about Scully’s baby. Mulder started to worry. Cruel voices spoke things to him on the ship, things he didn’t understand. They used his name, they knew him. They spoke to him about Scully. Mulder tried to concentrate, to bring back the things he’d heard inside his head on the ship. But he couldn’t bring the words forward. No matter how hard he tried, he could only remember the fear and the pain. The time spent between the moments his body had suffered was just a void. There was nothing. No light, no memory. Just vague, whispered words in the dark, cruel threats and insidious plans. If only Mulder could remember clearly.

He was also still having trouble wrapping his head around the fact that a human being was living inside Scully’s abdomen. It was proving difficult to process the baby in his mind in a way other than just an abstract concept. He knew he had to be the father. But how? It was impossible. He wanted to ask her about it, but he found that the most pressing question on his mind was a completely selfish one. What was his role in Scully’s life going to be now that he obviously wasn’t the center of it anymore?

He couldn’t imagine not being Scully’s priority. Mulder couldn’t imagine not being the center of her life. Especially now, now when he felt he was barely hanging onto his sanity. He needed to be Scully’s center, but he was being replaced. It was too much. Everything was happening too fast. He turned to lay on his side, putting his back to Scully, and tried pretending to sleep. An onslaught of emotions welled up inside him. Tears filled his eyes, and he used the back of his hand to wipe the wetness away before the tears could brim over. His old friends were back; anger, bitterness, guilt, and self-loathing battled it out for the overpowering emotion.

What was going to happen to him? To Scully? To her baby? She’d been dealing with the pregnancy on her own, getting on with her life without him. So where did he fit in now? His confusion only made him feel angry. Then he felt guilty, and then he hated himself. He didn’t want Scully to see the irrational anger he felt towards her, even towards her unborn child. But it threatened to spill out every time she tried to comfort him. Mulder knew he was hurting her. He could see it in her stiff posture whenever he snapped at her, or at one of the hospital staff. He knew Scully wasn’t the reason for his pain and confusion. He knew he should control his anger, his bitterness. Five months of his life had been stolen from him. He was thankful to be alive, but he’d come back to his world turned upside down. As the anger waned while he laid there, he soon felt himself sinking into a depressing exhaustion.

“Mulder, are you okay?” Scully whispered, standing up from the chair and stepping closer to the bed.

She reached out a calming hand, placing it on his shoulder, hoping to soothe whatever distress he was feeling. But he jerked his shoulder away from her hand. She wondered why he still didn’t want her to touch him. Scully knew he’d been through a terrible experience, and it seemed to her that he was exhibiting signs of Posttraumatic Stress Disorder. She understood that it would be an adjustment for him, one that wasn’t going to come easily after everything he’d been through. But Scully couldn’t help but feel the sharp pain of rejection. Her stomach knotted with fear and anxiety. This wasn’t turning out to be the reunion she’d hoped for. Mulder was back, but she still felt alone.

*****

On Friday afternoon, October 27th, Mulder sat alone in his room, wearing that damn hospital gown, in a chair with his back to the door. Flashbacks of his torture aboard the spaceship continued to plague him: his face being pulled, his nose invaded, his chest cut open, the soft palette inside his mouth drilled. He reached up to touch the scars on his face, moving down to his chest. He swallowed uncomfortably. He wished these flashbacks would stop. It didn’t matter whether he was awake or asleep, these memories still plagued him.

The door opened, Scully and Dr. Nelson Lim entering the room. She could see the back of Mulder’s head from where he was sitting in the chair. He’d made no effort to get up nor had he acknowledged their presence in the room.

“Mulder, you okay?” she asked gently.

He wasn’t okay, but he took a moment to collect himself, and then turned to face Scully and the doctor. “Yeah,” he replied, standing up and shuffling over to the bed on the other side of the room. “For a guy who was, uh… in a coffin not too long ago I think I'm doing pretty damn good. I don't quite have my legs under me… yet.”

“Well, you might want to consider sitting down when you hear what we have to tell you,” said Scully.

He sat down on the bed, preparing himself for the worst news. What could it be now? As if his life wasn’t a clusterfuck already. “Uh-oh.”

She gave him a half smile. “Now, it's, uh… it's good news. It's… it's miraculous news.”

Mulder sighed. There was that word again. Miracle.

Scully turned back to look at Dr. Lim, and he spoke up. “I can't possibly exaggerate the inconceivability of you sitting here. Let's be honest… your condition may be more incredible than your recovery.”

While the doctor spoke, Mulder didn’t take his eyes off Scully. She then further expounded on what Dr. Lim had said. “After a course of transfusions and antivirals it has rid your body of the virus that was invading it. The scars on your face, on your hands, on your feet, on your chest, they… they seem to be repairing themselves.”

He touched his scars self-consciously while she talked, averting his eyes and looking down at his lap.

“Mulder, you are in perfect health,” she concluded.

“Wow,” he replied, his voice filled with detachment, not sounding thrilled at all. And after Dr. Lim asked him how he felt, he couldn’t exactly tell the truth, so all he could muster up was a lame Austin Powers reference, giving Scully a half smile.

She let out a small, breathy laugh, but as she and Mulder gazed at one another, it was clear that neither of them found the situation humorous. The doctor then walked out of the room, leaving Mulder and Scully alone.

He cleared his throat. “So doc, when are you gonna bust me outta here?”

“Hopefully today,” she replied. “Dr. Lim is feeling positive about your recovery and I think he’ll be discharging you later this afternoon after I discuss a few things with him.”

“Good,” said Mulder. “There’s only so much chocolate pudding and Jell-O a guy can stand. When we get outta here, you’re taking me to get a cheeseburger. God, I can’t wait to go home.”

She sighed. “We need to, uh, talk about a few things.”

That was an understatement. He looked over at her, staring at her belly before looking away. “Yeah, I should say so.”

Scully felt stricken at his dry manner, at the hint of bitterness in his tone, but she recovered fairly quickly. “You no longer have your apartment.”

“I’m homeless?” Mulder replied in disbelief, turning to stare at her face with widening eyes.

She heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry, but I had to give up your apartment. It made no sense to keep it. I mean…”

He looked away again, nodding. “Right. Yeah. Why would you keep it? I was dead.” He shrugged his shoulders in defeat.

Scully stared at him, speechless at his cold, unfeeling detachment over the state their lives had been in during the past several months.

“So then where do I live?” Mulder asked. “Nowhere? Because actually, that would be fitting.” He turned to look at Scully and, seeing the look on her face and knowing he upset her, immediately felt remorseful and changed his tone of voice to something kinder. “So… then where am I going to stay?”

“The Gunmen put your furniture into storage,” she replied. “But most of your personal belongings I took home with me. I brought you some of your clothes. They’re in the duffel bag. Anyways, there’s plenty of room at my apartment. That way I can take care of you.” She felt herself blushing, and averted her eyes. She didn’t know why she should feel embarrassed, or self-conscious.

Mulder stared at her, feeling genuinely touched. “You kept my stuff? Why?”

Scully averted her eyes again, staring at her entwining fingers. “I guess… I guess I didn’t want to let you go.”

Silence filled the room. He then glanced down at her belly. “Well, I think I’ve got a good idea of where you’ve been keeping my basketball.”

She arched an eyebrow at him and sighed. Before she could think of a reply, the door opened and the young nurse Ashley entered. “Excuse me, Dr. Scully? Dr. Lim would like to see you.”

Scully looked back at Mulder, offering a slight smile, and then turned to follow Ashley out the door to the hallway. He sat on the bed, watching the door close behind her. He felt nothing but relief now that she was gone. There were so many times when he wanted her to leave, but he could never find the words to make that request. The real Fox Mulder would never ask her to leave. He’d want her there, he’d flourish with her unconditional support and encouragement. He wished he felt the same.

He’d garnered a nickname in the hospital, at least among the nursing staff. Miracle Man. They were goodhearted and kind, and they meant well. He knew he should feel good, grateful, and happy to be alive. But he didn’t feel like much of a miracle. He supposed in their eyes, he was. He’d been dead, and now he wasn’t. But he felt burdened by such a name. Didn’t people expect great things from miracles? Some greater purpose? He once had a purpose, a higher cause. He remembered what that was like. But he’d lost it somewhere between that ship and the grave.

Every time Scully was near, no matter how comforting the sight and smell of her was to Mulder, a large part of him was keenly aware of what she had lost too. Sometimes the burden of what they both had lost was too much for him to bear, and he felt nothing but relief when half of his burden walked out the door and allowed him to be alone. But now he had no home, no place of his own. He’d be staying with Scully. With Scully and her unborn baby. Another miracle. Except he’d actually prayed for that one. Was it possible someone, or something, had actually been listening? He wished it was possible to learn the answer to that, even though he knew it wasn't. He wished he could find some answers, any answers at all, to the meaningless injustice that had happened to him, to her, to them, over the past five months.

*****

Scully entered Mulder’s hospital room and saw him sitting on the bed, wearing dark jeans, a blue sweater, and brown leather jacket, sliding his feet into a pair of shoes. He stood up and faced her, grabbing the duffel bag from the end of the bed, and the sight of him dressed for the first time caused tears to fill her eyes. This was all real. Mulder had really come back to her. He was right there, right in front of her.

“What?” he asked her. He’d felt relieved to put on clothes, as they hid his scars well. Except for the ones on his face. There wasn’t much he could do about those.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head and covering her mouth with her hand. “It’s nothing. You look good. Anyways, you ready? Let’s go home.” She held out her hand to him.

Mulder felt panicked. She obviously was expecting to hold his hand. He stared at her outstretched palm, and awkwardly handed her the duffel bag because he didn’t know what else to do.

Scully took the bag, staring at him for a second, and then turned to open the door, holding it for Mulder to walk through. She sighed as they walked towards the elevator. He was healing miraculously fast. He’d worked with a physical therapist for a few days, and now as she watched him walk onto the elevator, she thought he didn’t even appear to be someone who hadn’t walked in months.

They didn’t speak much on the ride to D.C. from Annapolis, Maryland. An hour after they departed the US Naval Hospital, they were pulling up in front of Scully’s apartment building in Georgetown early on Friday evening. They took the elevator to the third floor, then walked down the hallway to her apartment. Scully took out her keys and unlocked the door, holding it open and allowing Mulder to enter.

He stepped inside, and looked around the place. It all looked the same. It seemed very little, if anything, had changed about it. But his eyes then zeroed in on the fish tank in the living room. He walked towards it, Scully following him into the room and setting the duffel bag down onto the couch. She played with her key ring as Mulder leaned down and looked into the tank.

“Missing a Molly,” he said, before standing upright and looking over at her.

“Yeah,” Scully replied quietly, well aware of the deceased fish. “She wasn't as lucky as you.”

He looked away, unable to deal with the emotion in her face. He felt a personal conversation coming on, and his guts churned in panic.

She stared at him determinedly not looking at her. “Mulder… I don't know if you'll ever understand what it was like. First learning of your abduction… and then searching for you and finding you dead. And now to have you back and, uh…” Her voice broke and she paused, trying to collect herself.

“Well, you act like you're surprised,” Mulder quipped, shrugging casually and chuckling at his own joke. When he noticed that she didn’t respond in kind, he stopped laughing and looked away from her again.

“I prayed a lot,” she said, her voice thick with emotion and eyes filling with tears. “And my prayers have been answered.”

Mulder looked at her belly. “In more ways than one.”

Scully looked down at the roundness protruding from her brown sweater. “Yeah.”

“I'm happy for you,” he said, sitting down on the edge of her desk. “I think I know… how much that means to you.”

She hesitated, staring at him fixedly. Her stomach knotted in anxiety. What did he mean by that? Is that really all he had to say about her pregnancy? And what was he implying? That the baby had nothing to do with him? It was only important to her? His indifference caused her eyes to well up with fresh tears. “Mulder…”

He shook his head slightly, looking away. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to be cold or ungrateful. I just… I have no idea where I fit in. Right now. I just, uh… I'm having a little trouble… processing… everything.”

Scully looked at him. She didn’t know what to say. She stared at the sad, lost expression on his face, his slumped shoulders, and her empathy for him stirred. “It’s only been a week since…” She sighed. “Give yourself some time.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Scully started to turn away to head into the kitchen, but then turned back to look at him. “Mulder.”

“What?” he responded, looking over to meet her gaze.

“You’ll always fit in with me,” she said. “No matter what. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed.”

Mulder gave her a small smile, and nodded. He then stood up and walked over to the couch, grabbing the duffel bag. “I guess I’ll go set myself up in the guest room. And I’ll start looking for a new apartment soon, so you won’t have to worry about me driving you crazy for very long.” He smirked at her, and then started walking out of the living room and into her hallway.

She stared after him. He was going to sleep in the guest room? And look for a new place? She wanted him to feel just as happy and grateful as she did to have him back. She wanted to share the joy and relief over being together once more. She knew and understood that he’d suffered greatly in their time apart, but she couldn’t imagine why he didn’t look at her or speak to her the same way as before. What had changed between them? She still loved him just as much as she ever did, and maybe even more now that his child was growing inside her. But she didn’t feel that from him. He didn’t look at her or talk to her like a man who loved her. Had Mulder lost the measure of love he’d once had for her? With a sinking heart and falling tears, Scully started to realize that the man she’d brought home was not the same man she’d said goodbye to all those months ago.


	87. "I just wouldn't want this to come between us."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully ponders the current status of her relationship with Mulder, and her concerns over his indifference. Mulder wants to return to work much sooner than anyone anticipated.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog of the episode "Three Words" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depeche Mode – “Alone”
> 
> I was there when you needed me most  
> I was there when you wanted me least  
> I was your Father, your Son, and your Holy Ghost and priest  
> Through your failings and success  
> Through your losses and gains  
> I didn’t see much happiness or pain
> 
> I couldn’t save your soul  
> I couldn’t even take you home  
> I couldn’t fill that hole  
> Alone
> 
> I saw you at your best  
> I knew you at your worst  
> I couldn’t tell if you were blessed or cursed  
> There’s a thin gray line  
> Between the black and the white  
> It’s evidently hard to find at night
> 
> I couldn’t save your soul  
> I couldn’t even take you home  
> I couldn’t play that role  
> Alone
> 
> Now it’s too,  
> Too late for words that should’ve been said  
> Long ago
> 
> I was there when you needed me most  
> I was there when you wanted me least  
> I was your Father, your Son, and your Holy Ghost and priest
> 
> I couldn’t save your soul  
> I couldn’t even take you home  
> I couldn’t fill that hole  
> Alone

Mulder opened the door to Scully’s guest bedroom on Friday evening, October 27th, stepping inside and closing it shut behind him. The room was bright and inviting, with simple décor. A double bed was situated in the middle of the room, with light blue and white striped bedding. There was a closet and a dresser, blinds over the window, and sand-colored carpet.

He walked over to the bed and set the duffel bag down. As he turned and glanced towards the side of the room opposite from the closet, he noticed several large boxes against the wall. Mulder walked over to check them out, and upon approaching them, reading the labels, he stopped and stared. They were boxes of nursery furniture: crib, bassinet, dresser, changing table. They were still unopened, as if they'd just been purchased from a store. Mulder wondered how long ago Scully had bought them. There were also several different paint swatches sitting on top of one of the boxes.

He backed up and sat down on the bed, staring at the boxed nursery furniture. Mulder felt like he didn’t belong there. This was obviously going to be the baby’s room. The thought of taking his rightful place in Scully’s bedroom made him feel panicked. A knot of anxiety and fear tightened inside him, but he didn’t exactly understand why he was afraid.

He knew that he didn’t want her to see his scars, at least any more than she had already. He worried about what she might expect of him, or what she didn’t expect of him. A few times over the past week he’d wished they could just pretend like none of this had happened. But he now admitted to himself that he was incapable of doing that. Too much had happened. Not only to him during his abduction, but back home while he was gone. While he sat there debating about whether or not it would be a good idea to walk back out there and ask Scully to take him to a motel, there was a knock on the bedroom door.

“It’s me,” Scully said.

Mulder snorted. Who else would it be? “Yeah, come in.”

The door opened, and he saw her standing there with two cardboard boxes on the floor. Her face was unreadable, no longer showing the emotions from earlier when he’d been desperate to escape her living room. He suspected she’d put up a mask that she was hiding behind. He supposed he was hiding too. Mulder stood up from the bed and walked over to help her.

“What’s this?” he asked, bending to lift one of the boxes.

“Your clothes,” she replied.

He paused, staring at her briefly, and nodded, before taking the box over to the bed. He then did the same with the second box.

Scully stood in the guest-room-soon-to-be-nursery, feeling awkward. She still felt hurt by what Mulder had said to her not that long ago, and was starting to feel angry. There was no doubt in her mind the baby was theirs. She’d had the baby’s DNA tested, and science proved to her Mulder was the father. After all the disappointment and crushed hopes of one failed IVF attempt after another, after all their prayers for a miracle, and after two months of searching and then three months of grieving his death, their baby the only thing in her life keeping her going, Mulder had stabbed her with his indifferent use of the pronouns ‘that’ and ‘you.’ She'd wanted to scream at him.

Mulder was closing himself off to her. But why? Couldn’t he see how important he was to her? If he didn’t truly think he fit in, how could she convince him otherwise? Maybe she wasn’t enough. She’d considered trying to talk Mulder into seeing a therapist, but then envisioned him trying to convince a psychiatrist of where exactly he’d been for the last five months. She then promptly scrapped the therapy idea.

If Scully were a different woman, she’d walk up to Mulder and lift her sweater, placing his hands on the taut, warm skin of her belly. If she were a different woman, she’d show him exactly where and how he fit in. She’d remind him of how well they had fit together, like perfect puzzle pieces, on the night that had resulted in their son: large and small, hard and soft, ivory and golden bronze, dark brown and auburn. If she were a different woman, she’d remind him that they were in love. Instead, she did and said none of the things she wanted to, feeling the steel walls of her self-preservation returning.

“There are hangers in the closet,” she told him. “And the dresser is empty.”

“Okay,” he said.

Silence filled the bedroom. Scully stared at her entwined fingers, and then looked up. “Well, I’ll leave you to get settled. If any of your clothes need to be dry cleaned, just give them to me and I can drop them off tomorrow morning. Um… let me know if you need anything else.”

Mulder nodded, giving her a half smile. “Thanks.”

Scully pursed her lips and nodded, and then turned to walk out of the room, closing the bedroom door behind her. Mulder spent the next hour removing his clothes from the boxes and putting them away in drawers or in the closet, filling up the dresser and only about a third of the closet. He laid his suits, dress shirts, and ties on the duvet cover. Mulder stood by the bed, staring at what once made up his FBI uniform.

He didn’t even know if the X-Files were still open, as if that even mattered anymore. It had been his duty to protect the innocent and bring about justice for those who had been victimized, to protect them from the dark underbelly of those in power and the supernatural evils that existed in the world. Mulder hadn’t even been able to protect himself. What was he good for now?

After some time had passed, Mulder decided that he couldn’t hide in the guest room forever and apprehensively opened the door. The lights were on in the hallway, and from what he could tell, also the living room and kitchen. The doors to the bathroom and Scully’s bedroom were open, but no light was coming from those rooms. He heard the indistinct sound of the television coming from the living room to his left.

Mulder walked down the hallway, passing the open doors of the bathroom and Scully’s bedroom, turning into the kitchen. She was standing at the kitchen counter next to the refrigerator, peeling an orange. She was still wearing the brown sweater she’d worn home from the hospital, but she’d changed into a pair of jeans. On the counter next to her was a rustic bowl that used to regularly hold a variety of different fruits. He suddenly remembered mornings at her apartment, walking by and grabbing a banana or an apple on his way out the door. The bowl no longer held a variety, and was only full of one kind of fruit.

“You’re really into oranges now, huh?” asked Mulder, his eyes darting to the roundness of her belly. He still really hadn't gotten used to it.

Scully turned her head quickly to look at him, and then shrugged. “Um… well, yeah. For the past few weeks I’ve been on an oranges kick. Last month it was pineapple. I guess it’s good the cravings are healthy. Not like those salt and vinegar chips.” She smirked at him, and popped an orange segment into her mouth.

He stared at her, realization dawning. Mulder remembered teasing her about all those nasty chips she’d been eating back in the spring. The chips were a pregnancy craving. She’d been pregnant, and he’d had no idea. And when they went to Oregon…

“You were sick,” Mulder stated. He suddenly remembered her dizzy spells, how pale she’d been. He remembered her frantically jumping out of the bed in his motel room and running to the bathroom to throw up. He’d been worried about her, but for completely the wrong reason.

“What?” she asked, her brows knitting in confusion. “When?”

He swallowed, still staring fixedly at her. “In Oregon. You were sick. You…” He sighed, his memories sinking in his stomach like a lead weight. “You were pregnant.”

Scully gazed at him. She hadn’t been expecting him to talk about Oregon or her pregnancy. “Yes.”

“I don’t… I don’t even know what to say,” he replied. “Did you know?”

“Of course I didn’t,” she said. “I would’ve told you.”

Mulder nodded. He never would've gone back to Oregon if he'd known. "Scully... I..."

She sighed. “I know, Mulder.” She removed another segment from the orange, and popped it into her mouth. “You wanna watch some TV? _Who Wants to Be a Millionaire_ is about to start.”

He chuckled. “Uh… sure. Seeing as how you sat through the World Series with me in the hospital without complaint, I suppose I can sit through that.”

“Oh, are you hungry?” asked Scully, giving him a slight smile. “It’s been a few hours since you had that burger.”

“Um… what have you got?” replied Mulder, moving into the kitchen and walking over to the other counter. “Besides oranges?”

He opened the cabinet on the left side of the sink, where he knew she kept her boxes of tea, and his eyes zeroed in on an unopened box of Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop-Tarts. He pulled it from the shelf, smiled to himself, and opened the box.

A couple minutes later, when the toaster popped up, Scully grabbed a small plate and approached where Mulder was standing in front of the appliance. As she handed him the plate, her left arm brushed against his elbow, and he flinched, quickly stepping away from her. Scully was very careful not to react, at least outwardly, and set the plate down on the counter as if nothing strange had occurred. She then walked back over to the refrigerator, grabbing another orange, and walked out to the living room. She anxiously wondered if he would join her, or if he’d retreat to the guest bedroom. But she didn’t have to wait long to see Mulder walking into the living room, where he then sat down on the couch next to her, albeit out of arm’s reach.

*****

Over the course of the weekend, Mulder hardly talked at all. When he did speak, he was abrupt, flippant, and sometimes defensive. He still didn’t want to be touched, nor did it seem to Scully that he wanted to touch her. He kept a wall up around him, a protective shield. She tried to give him what she thought he wanted, space and distance, while at the same time trying to let him know that she was there if he needed her. It was a difficult balance. He seemed glad of her company, yet disinclined to talk to her at all.

She knew that most of their communication over the years had been unspoken. They had their own language of eyes, facial expressions, and gestures. Usually, all they had to do was say the other’s name, and depending on the tone of voice used and the look on their face, this one word could convey everything they needed to say. That wasn’t to say they never talked. They spoke about work. They discussed cases and argued theories. They talked about current events and other mundane details that made up daily life. But their more personal, meaningful conversation was typically done without words. Sometimes, it was communicated between the lines of dialog they actually spoke to each other.

Scully felt she would’ve been better able to deal with Mulder’s disinterest in speaking with her if their dominant form of communication remained intact. But he was completely unreadable, which she had never experienced before. She had no idea what was going on behind his eyes, what he was thinking about, how he was feeling. Usually those were things she never had to guess at.

Mulder still hadn’t asked her about the baby. He hadn’t asked her how she could’ve gotten pregnant. He hadn’t asked her if the baby was healthy or if there had been any problems. The fact he hadn’t asked any of these questions as well as countless others he no doubt could come up with, seemed very uncharacteristic of him. Scully wasn’t sure what to make of it. She wondered if this was a result of some apparently normal expectant-father-anxiety a new parent might experience. She worried if the reality of a child made him now regret agreeing to be a part of her IVF process, made him regret hoping for a miracle, or made him regret other choices he’d made with regards to her.

There were so many things that Scully had missed about Mulder when he’d been gone. She missed his sense of humor, the touch of his hand on her arm or her back, the times he smiled wide enough to show his teeth, how he’d play with his bottom lip when he was concentrating hard on something. She missed the sound of his voice. It was always pleasing to her ears, but no more especially than late at night. She missed the way he looked at her, sometimes with frustration, sometimes with a glint of mischief, sometimes with tenderness, sometimes with feral desire, sometimes with reverence and awe. What she wouldn’t give just to have him look at her the way he did before. Mulder had come back to her, but she still missed him terribly.

It was the most difficult at night, when Scully found herself having to sleep alone. She wanted Mulder next to her. She wanted his arms around her, his voice in her ear, his lips pressed to hers. She’d felt so lonely here in her apartment when Mulder was missing. She thought she’d never again feel so alone as she did then. The only thing getting her through the days was looking forward to having her baby, Mulder’s son. But now, with Mulder finally back, she felt lonelier than ever. He was no longer missing. He wasn’t buried in the ground. He was right now just down the hallway, sleeping in her guest room. But despite that, he seemed farther away from her than when he was gone. Scully wished she’d been given some warning, that something should’ve prepared her for Mulder being so withdrawn.

The situation might not have been so bad if she’d found some reason to hang onto his apartment. They would still have their own place, and so dealing with things separately would’ve come more naturally. But dealing with the situation separately, while living under the same roof, was proving to be a difficult weight for Scully to bear. There were many times when she wanted to break down and cry, but fear of Mulder hearing this prevented her from venting her emotions. Instead, she bottled her feelings, and kept them locked up tight.

Scully thought back to when she’d returned from her own abduction nightmare, to how Mulder had treated her in those first few weeks she’d resumed her normal life. Like a pendulum, he often swung to one extreme or another. Sometimes overbearingly protective, sometimes indifferent and ignoring. Scully wasn’t going to be either. She wasn’t going to force him to open up, force him to resume their relationship from where it had left off. But she wasn’t going to ignore him either, or pretend as though the last five months hadn’t happened. It was often difficult to find the right balance.

Late on Sunday afternoon, October 29th, Scully opened the hallway closet and laid eyes on the canvas bag the Gunmen had brought over to her about a month after Mulder’s memorial service. It contained hundreds of sympathy cards and letters that had been mailed to the Gunmen’s office from people all over the country, and some had even been sent via international mail. According to Byers, most of the senders were MUFON members, while others were from various organizations, like the Center for UFO Studies and the SETI Institute, and some didn’t have an affiliation with any known group. Scully had only managed to get through three or four letters before she couldn’t read anymore. The writers expressed such deep sorrow for the loss of Mulder to their communities, expressed just how much his work had meant to them personally. It had been too heartbreaking for her to read them at the time.

“Mulder!” she called out.

He quickly got up from the couch, and hurried into the hallway. “What is it? Are you okay?”

She snorted. “I’m fine. I, uh, just wanted to show you something.” Scully lifted the white canvas bag from the floor of the closet. “It’s full of letters and cards. For you. Well… about you, I guess. I think you’d like reading them.”

Mulder hesitated, before reaching to take the bag. “Who are they from?”

“Oh, lots of people,” Scully replied, letting go of it and running her hands over her abdomen, smoothing out the green sweater.

“Did you read them?” he asked.

She gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. “Not really. Only a few. But, um, I think you should read them.”

He nodded, and then retreated to the living room. Mulder and Scully then spent the evening sitting on her couch, with the TV on and volume kept down low, the canvas bag of letters between them, reading through the heartfelt expressions of total strangers. With each letter he read, each card he listened to as Scully recited, he felt more and more of himself return. Parts of him that he had thought were missing, were starting to come back to him. His sense of purpose that he thought he’d lost, he could feel it coming back to him.

*****

It was almost 12:00 pm on Thursday, November 2nd, and Mulder was sitting comfortably on Scully’s couch, wearing jeans and a black t-shirt, his feet up on her coffee table, watching ESPN sports highlights on the television. Scully walked through the door, having returned home from her appointment with Dr. Bajaj. At 30 weeks, everything was looking good. It appeared that her gestational hypertension had completely dissipated, much to her doctor’s surprise. Usually the condition didn’t go away until after delivery.

Scully was starting to feel excited, knowing that she’d have her baby in about 10 weeks, if she went the full term. She wanted to share with Mulder everything about the appointment. She wanted to tell him that their son weighed 2.98 pounds and was 15.75 inches from crown to heel. She wanted to tell him she’d gained 18 pounds since she last complained to him about just gaining three, and that the extra 21 pounds she was carrying around because of this pregnancy was starting to become a real nuisance. She’d actually wanted Mulder to be there, to go with her to the appointment. When she’d told him about it, he didn’t say anything. And Scully had held back from asking him directly, afraid of more rejection. When she’d grabbed her car keys and badge from the kitchen table, telling him she was leaving for the appointment, he’d merely said “Okay” and didn’t make any attempts to move off the couch. He was still in the same spot she’d left him in 90 minutes earlier.

She hung up her jacket on the coat rack, and walked into the living room. “Hi.”

Mulder turned his attention from the TV, and looked at her. She was dressed nicely, in black dress pants and a black cardigan over a beige sweater. She was glowing again. It must’ve been a good appointment. “Hey.” He then turned back to the television.

Scully stared at him, her eyes widening slightly. Why was he so disinterested in her? In their child? He hadn’t even asked her the simplest questions. He didn’t even know whether the baby was a boy or a girl, and it appeared as though Mulder didn’t even care to know. She felt emotion threatening to overwhelm her and turned around, walking through the kitchen to the hallway, and into her bedroom. After closing the door, she walked into the bathroom and made sure to shut the door that opened onto the hallway.

She stepped up to the sink, grabbing a clean wash cloth and soaking it with hot water, pressing the damp cloth to her face. Tears pricked her eyes and started to brim over, and she was forced to stifle a sob. Almost immediately, the baby started moving around, kicking her with his feet or hitting her with his fists. It was impossible to tell. She took a steadying breath, and wiped the tears from her face.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, looking into the mirror. She didn’t know whether she was talking to herself or her son. “I just… I just wanted him back.”

During those two months she searched for Mulder, Scully had felt like she would do anything to get Mulder back. She would’ve paid any price. Skinner had warned her that the price she might end up paying would be too high. But at the time, Mulder was her priority. Finding him and bringing him home was the most important thing to her. During those two months he was missing, Scully put her life and her baby’s life in danger over and over again. She’d asked herself the question, who was more important. At the time, the answer had been Mulder. She felt like she would’ve done anything, given anything, to have him back.

Scully stared at her reflection, a cold chill running through her spine. Unless it meant giving up her son. Over a year ago, when Mulder had first agreed to help her with IVF, he’d vocalized something he had felt worried about.

_“I just wouldn’t want this to come between us.”_

And typical of them, they never ended up discussing what exactly he meant by ‘this.’ Did he mean the IVF process, whether or not it was successful? Did he mean a baby? Did he mean raising a child together? Did he mean her raising the child alone? Did he mean her becoming a mother, and therefore her life would no longer revolve around him and the X-Files?

She ran her hand over her belly, finding the right spot and pressing firmly down with her fingers, and felt her son brush against them. Scully started to wonder if the pregnancy _was_ coming between them. He rarely ever said a word about it. She was afraid to ask him, afraid of his answer. Scully knew now that Mulder was no longer her priority, no longer the most important thing in her life. Her life decisions had already been made. Whether or not Mulder wanted to be a part of those decisions, well, he was going to have to make that choice. She couldn’t force him into anything.

As she stared at her reflection, Scully asked herself if she still wanted Mulder back, even if that meant losing him in a personal way. She’d answered before she’d even finished asking herself the question. Even if Mulder chose not to take responsibility for their son, even if he was no longer her lover, her partner, or even her friend, whatever he was willing to be was better than not having him at all. When she thought he was dead, she had started preparing herself to raise their son alone. Now that Mulder was back, she felt she shouldn’t have to do that. But when it came down to it, if Scully had to, she would.

Suddenly there was a knock on her front door, and she walked out of the bathroom to go answer it. Scully opened the door to see Skinner standing there, looking uncomfortable. She immediately knew what had brought on this particular home visit. After spending an ample amount of time reading through the canvas bag of letters, Mulder had talked to Scully about going back to work. She had told him that she didn’t think it was a good idea to go back so soon, after just coming home from the hospital. But he’d told her that he couldn’t just sit around her apartment all day long doing nothing, he needed to be doing something.

Scully knew that he had felt powerless, unable to stop the horrible things done to him. She was trying to be patient, kind, and understanding. He probably wanted to take back some power, some control. She wanted to show him that she was supportive, that she understood. She’d needed to use work as something to put her back up against to help get her through those months without him. So she didn’t put up further protest and did as he asked, handing in an application to the Human Resources department for Mulder’s reinstatement to the X-Files. By the look on Skinner’s face, she could tell the application hadn’t gone down very well at the Bureau. After letting her boss inside and joining him in the living room as he spoke with Mulder, her suspicions were proved correct. Kersh had ended up assigning Mulder to the third floor bullpen.

“Kersh wants to put me behind a desk?” he asked sardonically. “That is not what Kersh wants.”

“No, I think Kersh wants you to quit, Mulder,” Scully replied, lowering herself onto the couch beside him.

Skinner remained standing in front of them. “It's more than that. He wants to punish you, to hurt you.”

Mulder crossed his arms defensively. “And you by putting you in this position. And Agent Scully, for not giving up on me.” He turned to look at her, pausing briefly. “Truth is, this is a bullet that was fired about eight years ago. It's a magic bullet that's been going round and round, and right now it seems poised to hit me right in the back of the head.”

“Well, I think the question is, Mulder, are we going to sit here and let this happen?” she responded.

“Scully, you're going to give birth in a couple months,” he said. “You can talk as tough as you like, but you know and I know and they know that in a little while you're going to have more important things than whether or not the X-Files remains open.”

She glanced at him, and then averted her eyes. What he said sent her stomach into knots of fear. What had he meant by that? Was he once again implying that their child was only important to her? That while she had her hands full with a baby, he was going to be out there fighting the good fight trying to keep the X-Files open?

“They're not closing the X-Files,” said Skinner. “Kersh aims to keep them open with Agent Doggett running them.”

“Agent who?” Mulder had never heard that name before and turned to look at Scully, silently demanding an explanation.

She resolutely avoided his gaze, a sense of guilt now flooding her stomach to join her other emotions. “I've had a partner for the last several months. He was assigned to help me find you.” Scully felt it was important to convey to Mulder that she didn’t choose to have another partner, the FBI did that.

“Mission accomplished,” he replied flippantly. The idea of Scully having a partner other than him was a shock to his system, he could feel anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach, and he wondered why she hadn’t mentioned this Agent Doggett before. “Does he know what he's doing at all, this guy?”

Skinner looked down at his shoes. “About the paranormal? Not much.”

Mulder sighed. “I see. Then maybe the question is not who fired this magic bullet, but whether or not it was a lone gunman.” He smiled at them sarcastically.

“Agent Doggett is above reproach, Mulder,” said Scully. “He's being maneuvered, just like you.”

“Well, good. At least he's maneuverable.” Mulder then quickly got up off the couch and started walking towards the hallway.

“Where are you going?” asked Skinner.

Mulder turned back to look at his boss. “I'm going to get dressed. For the first time I feel like getting back to work.”

Skinner looked at Scully, and sighed. “There’s nothing like an authoritative system for Mulder to challenge to make him actually want to work.”

“He’s always been obsessed with work, sir.” Even as she’d said that, Scully remembered a time not so long ago when Mulder hadn’t been all that obsessed anymore, when he’d been ready to walk away and have something resembling a normal life. They were about 10 weeks away from a serious dose of real life, and Mulder was suddenly finding a renewed vigor and vim for work. Scully could only shake her head, hoping he would soon make the choice she wanted him to make, she needed him to make.

After letting Skinner out of the apartment, Scully followed Mulder to the guest room. He’d left the door open, and she watched him remove his navy blue suit from a dry cleaner’s bag.

She sighed. “Mulder, do you honestly think returning to work so soon is a good idea? You’ve been through so much already, and I really don’t think getting into a power struggle with Kersh is in your best interest right now.”

“Scully, I need to reclaim my life,” Mulder replied, staring at her intensely. After laying the navy suit jacket and pants on the bed, he grabbed a white dress shirt, before turning back to the closet to choose a tie.

With a sinking heart, Scully turned from the room, closing the door shut behind her. Apparently, to Mulder, ‘reclaiming his life’ had everything to do with the X-Files, and nothing to do with her.


	88. "It means the future is here, and all bets are off."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an effort to find some much-needed answers, Mulder inserts himself into an X-Files case, much to the chagrin of everyone. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of "Three Words" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depeche Mode – “Broken”
> 
> If you want control  
> Without any pain  
> How long will you suffer  
> How long will you reign
> 
> You see, the friend that I knew  
> He cannot be found  
> Replaced by another  
> Wearing his crown
> 
> There's a place where I go  
> Without any sound  
> Only you can reach me  
> Only you're allowed
> 
> And you're so far away  
> You're so far from here  
> Do you remember  
> A time without tears
> 
> When you're falling I will catch you  
> You don't have to fall that far  
> You can make it, I will be there  
> You were broken from the start
> 
> When you were a child  
> You’d dream all day long  
> You’d dream of the future  
> Get lost in your songs
> 
> Now that time is gone  
> It's lost for you now  
> Words long forgotten  
> Forgotten somehow
> 
> When you're falling I will catch you  
> You don't have to fall that far  
> You can make it, I will be there  
> You were broken from the start

Mulder’s gaze lingered at the bedroom door after Scully had closed it. After laying his suit and tie out on the bed, he made his way into the bathroom to shower. He examined his body closely, the scars on his ankles, wrists, chest and face as well as small scars in other places were slowly healing, becoming less pronounced. He could tell that it wouldn’t be long before there was no longer any outward sign of what had been done to him. But Mulder closed his eyes against the hot water, and flashed back to his restraint on that metal chair. He could hear the buzzing of the drills and saw, he could hear himself screaming. His eyes flew open, the echo of his screams fading away. He could only hear the sound of the water hitting the shower walls, and wondered when the inner scars would start to fade.

Although he felt grateful that he had no memory of his burial or exhumation, the memories of his torture still overwhelmed him whenever he was alone. He was afraid to sleep, afraid of the waiting nightmares. The only nights he had slept fine at the hospital were when Scully had stayed by his side the whole time. He hadn’t been so afraid when she was near, but ever since it was time to leave the confines of the hospital and return to normal life, whatever that was now, he felt a knot of fear tighten when he was with her.

He got out of the shower and stood at the sink, shaving his face slowly, carefully guiding the razor around the circular scars. Mulder remembered screaming for Scully until his throat burned, a pain he could concentrate on that was separate from the horrifying things being done to him. There were times he had thought he sensed her presence, he thought he could hear her voice speaking to him. He wondered if she ever felt like that when he was gone. He could ask her. But there were so many questions Mulder wanted to ask her, if he could only find the courage.

It was difficult to be around Scully right now, with her searching eyes and all the unspoken things she wanted to say. The questions she wanted to ask. The questions she wanted him to ask. The old Fox Mulder would’ve been demanding answers of her. He remembered pleading with Scully to remember what had happened to her, to remember her abduction by any means possible. He now understood why she’d resisted, why she’d been so reluctant to remember for all those years. The memories were horrifying, and remembering them was like living a waking nightmare. His first crystal clear memory since that last night when he’d arrived in Oregon with Skinner was of Scully’s soft hand holding his. Mulder was sure of two things: the sun would rise and set every day, and Scully would always be there for him.

So why was he pushing her away? Why was he so afraid? He still didn’t know what to say to Scully. He told her he needed time to process things, but he wasn’t doing that. He was avoiding it. He miserably felt like everyone had just moved on without him, their lives had just kept going, growing. And by everyone, he knew he meant Scully.

Krycek’s words no longer played in Mulder’s mind like a broken record so much anymore, but the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach remained. What had happened to Mulder, had also happened to many others. Although, they hadn’t been so lucky. If Krycek and his own gut instincts were to be believed, the invasion was starting.

Mulder had told Skinner not to make Scully needlessly worry by telling her of Krycek’s threats, but maybe it was necessary to worry. When she’d told him how many weeks along her pregnancy was, he felt relief. At the time, he couldn’t immediately wrap his head around the fact he was going to be a father. But was he? How had a barren woman become pregnant? Mulder knew conceiving naturally was impossible. So how had her baby even come about? Had something been done to her without her knowledge? What had Krycek meant about her baby being ‘too perfect?’ Why had he wanted it dead? Did he still want it dead? Was Krycek acting alone? What dark organizations was he tied to now? Were Scully and her baby still threatened? She’d already lost one child because of what had been done to her. Was she going to lose another? The choice Krycek presented to Skinner was apparently Mulder’s life, or Scully’s baby. One or the other had to go. He had no clear idea why, but Mulder believed that Scully’s pregnancy was somehow connected to what happened to him.

He finally stepped away from the bathroom sink, and went back to the bedroom to get dressed. The apartment was quiet, and he wondered what Scully was up to. Once he’d finished dressing, he grabbed his FBI badge from the dresser. He felt thankful that when he’d gone back to Oregon, his badge had remained in the trunk of the rental car, inside his packed duffel bag, and that Scully had kept it.

After walking into the kitchen, grabbing Scully’s car keys from the table, Mulder then went into the living room, where he found Scully lying down on the couch. She was sleeping. He quietly walked over to her, and slowly sat down on the coffee table. She was lying on her side, one hand resting comfortably on her belly.

Mulder felt an ache deep in his chest as he watched her. She was so beautiful. At every turn, there was proof of her care for him. The refrigerator and her kitchen cabinets were stocked with his favorite things. She went to the library and got editions of the newspaper and his favorite magazines that had been released while he was gone, just so he could get caught up on things he’d missed out on. She'd bought him a new cell phone, a new watch. She was doing all she could to make him feel welcome, to make him feel at home.

He started to feel guilty about how he’d acted earlier that morning. Mulder knew Scully had wanted him to go with her to the doctor’s appointment. But the idea scared him, made him feel panicked. So he’d been churlish with her, not unlike how he’d been ever since leaving the hospital. He knew there were things she wanted to talk about. He knew how long she’d spent looking for him. Mulder also knew that he wouldn’t let her talk about those things. He could see the hurt, the grief, in her face. He could see that Scully still worried about him. It was only a burden to him, even though he didn’t want to feel that way.

Eventually he was going to have to get over his reluctance to talk seriously with her. Mulder knew that he would have to allow her to talk as well, that he would have to listen to everything she needed to say. There was so much he needed to know, even if he was afraid of learning the answers. But that wasn’t stopping him from trying to put off the inevitable for as long as possible.

Mulder reached out towards Scully, still sleeping peacefully and unaware of his presence. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, from where it had fallen across her cheek. He owed her everything. Even more so now than he ever had before. Tears pricked his eyes as he looked down at her. How could she want something as broken as him? How could she want that for her child? He doubted he could ever give her what she needed. Or if she even wanted it from him. He wondered how big of an asshole did he have to be before Scully said “I’m done with you,” and went off to live her life, taking her baby with her. He didn’t really want to find out, but he had a feeling that he might.

He then quietly stood up and walked towards the front door, taking his jacket off the coat rack, and walked out of the apartment.

*****

On Thursday afternoon, November 2nd, as Mulder made his way inside FBI headquarters, people stopped and stared, their eyes going wide and their mouths falling open. He was a literal dead man walking. Just before 2:00 pm, Mulder arrived at the third floor bullpen, where Kersh was planning on stashing him away. He commandeered a desk after reporting in with the bullpen’s ASAC, where he then sat down and watched flabbergasted heads turn to look in his general direction. Mulder inwardly groaned when he caught Special Agent Natalie Black’s deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression.

After about 10 minutes, Mulder had had enough, and went out to the hallway elevators. After stepping onto an elevator compartment, where those who had been inside stared at him wide-eyed and quickly departed, getting off on the third floor whether they’d originally wanted to or not, he hit the ‘B’ button. Mulder supposed he was now even more of a pariah around the FBI. Maybe that would work for his benefit, and prevent people from asking him too many questions.

As Mulder approached his basement office, he saw that the door was closed and his name was no longer on it. At least no one else’s was either. He pursed his lips and pulled Scully’s keys from his pocket, finding the correct one, and unlocking the door. Mulder had half expected to run into that Agent Doggett, but no one was around. The office looked pretty much the same, although he instantly noticed the two desks. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, either what that said about his partnership with Scully or her partnership with the new guy. She had said this Agent Doggett was “beyond reproach,” whatever the fuck that meant. But it had been enough to make him want to get back to the X-Files as soon as possible. He was back, and there was no need for Scully to be partnered with some other guy.

He laid his eyes on his ‘I Want to Believe’ poster, seeing that it hadn’t come down from the wall even in the wake of his apparent death, and Mulder felt an overwhelming sense of appreciation for Scully. He immediately walked over to the computer, and after locating the information having to do with his abduction and apparent death, he then found the file in the correct cabinet. Taking the file with him, he closed and locked up the basement office.

Two hours later, Mulder arrived at the Federal Correctional Facility in Perkey, West Virginia. After showing his badge and signing in to the register, he was shown to a visitation room typically used for lawyers to privately meet with their clients. Mulder sat at the table, the fingers of his right hand drumming over the file folder while his left hand touched the scars on his face. The door to the room soon opened, and in walked one Travis Clayton Moberly, with long silvery gray hair and wearing an orange jumpsuit, wrists and ankles cuffed, escorted by a prison guard. According to the case file Mulder had read, this Moberly was more commonly known as Absalom.

Mulder stood up to greet him, but Absalom had adopted a look of wide-eyed fear. “Don’t leave me in here with him! He’s come to kill me! He’s one of them!”

But the guard roughly shoved him towards Mulder, and he recoiled in fear. Mulder put up his hands in a non-threatening manner, as if surrendering. “I’m not here to hurt you. And I assure you I’m not one of them.”

Absalom paused, staring at Mulder, and the guard walked him to the table, lowering Absalom into the chair. The guard then turned to leave, telling Mulder to knock on the door when he was finished.

Mulder sat down at the table across from the prisoner, and opened the case file. “Well, uh, Absalom… I’ve read a lot about you.”

“Like what?” Absalom asked apprehensively.

“Like… that you were working with a man named Jeremiah Smith,” replied Mulder. “That he helped you find abductees who had been returned. He helped you take care of them.”

Absalom shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I don’t know anyone named Jeremiah Smith. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mulder eyed him. “Then why were you afraid of me when you came in here? Why did you think I was one of them?” Absalom swallowed, averting his eyes, and didn’t reply. So Mulder continued. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You also know that I was one of those abductees. You thought I was one of them because Jeremiah Smith hadn’t been able to treat me. Right? I had been one of the people you’d tried to help. I need you to help me now.”

“You’re a believer?” asked Absalom, staring at Mulder.

“The abductees, how did you find them?” Mulder asked, not really wanting to answer Absalom’s question. “How did you find Jeremiah Smith?”

Absalom leaned forward, setting his entwined hands on the table. “He found me. Don’t ask me how, because I don’t know. We followed UFOs around the country, gathering abductees. They appeared to be dead, but they weren’t. He saved them from becoming alien replicants.”

Mulder turned the page in the file, glancing down at what Scully had written in the case report about Billy Miles. “Humans are being… replaced?”

“By aliens,” Absalom affirmed, nodding his head.

“For the purpose of?” he asked. Mulder quickly thought through everything he’d been told about what might be coming in the future: the state of emergency that would be declared close to a national holiday, the black virus that would be carried to the human population by bees, the alien/human hybrid program conducted by the Consortium. But that information had all been a part of the government conspiracy, the project carried out by that illicit group of men who’d decided to turn their backs on the human race and align themselves with their future destroyers for the sake of saving themselves. That conspiracy was now dead, and those men along with it. So who knew what was going to happen now? Maybe this Absalom did.

The prisoner stared intensely at Mulder. “Invasion. It’s been prophesied. And now it’s happening. It’s time for everyone to choose which side they’re on.”

Mulder gave him a sarcastic stare. “Prophesied? You mean that Biblical nonsense you recite?”

“Not just the Bible,” replied Absalom. “Nearly every ancient civilization of the world has told of the Day of Judgment. From the Egyptians to the Muslims to the Greeks as well as religions of ancient China and India. The Anasazi. They were especially aware.”

“I need your help,” Mulder pleaded. “I need to know if what’s happening to these abductees can be stopped. There must be a way.”

Absalom nervously glanced at the door. “I can’t help you.”

Mulder sighed. “You mean you can’t, or you won’t?”

The prisoner sat back in his chair, his cuffed wrists falling to his lap, and became silent.

*****

At 7:30 on Thursday evening, Scully stood at the kitchen sink, washing the dinner dishes. She’d cooked Mulder’s favorite, meatloaf with mashed potatoes and buttered peas, but she’d eaten alone. She woke up on the couch earlier to find he was gone. He hadn’t said goodbye or left a note telling her where he was going, but she’d rightfully assumed he had went to FBI headquarters.

Scully had called Danny Valladeo, and he’d confirmed with security that Mulder had entered the building at 1:53 pm and then left headquarters at 2:35. She’d then called Mulder’s cell phone, but the call had gone straight to voicemail. As the afternoon turned to evening, she grew more worried and anxiety filled her stomach. She’d cooked dinner and called him again, but he hadn’t answered and he hadn’t come home.

While she was drying the nonstick loaf pan, Scully suddenly heard the key in the lock, and her front door opened. “Where have you been?” she asked, without looking at him.

Mulder sighed, shutting the door. “West Virginia.”

She turned her head sharply to look at him. “What the hell is in West Virginia?”

“Absalom,” he replied.

Scully stared at him, her eyes widening and her mouth falling open slightly. “You went to see him? Why?”

He hung up his jacket on the coat rack, and walked over to stand by the kitchen table. “I wanted to find out if he knew anything, if he had any answers.”

“Well, did you find what you were looking for?” She set the loaf pan in the bottom cabinet next to the oven, and then turned back to face him.

“He knows some things,” Mulder replied, shrugging slightly. “But he didn’t feel too much like cooperating. I didn’t really learn anything I didn’t already know, or could’ve guessed on my own.” He then started to turn away, to walk out of the kitchen.

She grabbed the orange dish towel she’d used to dry the dishes, folding it neatly. “Mulder…”

He stopped at the strained and upset tone to her voice, turning back to look at her.

“Do you really think it was a good idea to go out there?” Scully asked, setting the towel on the counter by the sink. “What you’ve been through… I mean, it’s horrible, unimaginable. And I just think it would be better if you dealt with it fully before jumping back into work. That you should take more time to…”

“Is that your professional opinion, Agent Scully?” Mulder asked, cutting her off, his voice ripe with irritation. “Or a personal one?”

She sighed. “Both. As your doctor, certainly. As your friend, and… as someone who… deeply cares about you, yes, that is my opinion.”

He nodded his head, chewing his bottom lip. “I know you’re concerned for me, and I appreciate that. I do. But I am dealing with this the best way I know how. And I am going to talk to this Absalom again. I need to know everything he knows.” Mulder then turned and started towards the living room, saying “I’ll be fine, Scully” as he walked away.

“Dinner is in the refrigerator, if you’re hungry,” she said to his departing back, feeling as though she may as well have been talking to a brick wall.

On Friday afternoon, November 3rd, Scully found herself standing in a crisis action room on the FBI’s fifth floor. A manhunt was underway for Absalom, as he’d escaped a prison work crew earlier that day. Several hours later, the US Marshals had yet to apprehend him and had just called in the FBI’s assistance, knowing it was federal agents who had originally put him behind bars.

“I haven’t been able to get ahold of Agent Doggett,” Skinner said to her. “The briefing is about to start. He needs to be here.”

“I know, sir,” Scully replied. “I’ll call him.” Doggett had left for the day about 45 minutes ago, before the FBI had received the call from the Marshals.

Agent Flagler then approached Skinner and Scully. “Uh, sir. The prison records show that the escaped convict only had two visitors since he was incarcerated: Agent Doggett, and… Agent Mulder. Yesterday.”

Skinner furrowed his brows. “What? Mulder?” He then turned to Scully. “You know about this?”

“Yes,” she replied, averting her eyes.

“Get Agent Doggett,” Skinner said tersely, before walking away to the front of the room and addressing the gathering agents. “He goes by the name Absalom. A self-styled prophet Agent Scully and I apprehended in Montana, where he commanded members of a small UFO cult.”

Scully was only half listening, trying to get Doggett on his cell phone. Frustratingly, she was getting no answer. She watched the slide projector, seeing the picture of a prison cell, with handwritten words on the wall: ‘Fight the Future’ and ‘Forever.’ Skinner continued to speak to the room and Scully then saw a brutal image of Teresa Hoese come over the projector, and she looked away, the sight turning her stomach. She tried calling Doggett’s home number, but still no answer.

Skinner finished addressing the room, and approached her. “Where the hell is Agent Doggett?”

“I can't reach him,” she replied, pressing the ‘end’ button on her phone, noticing the time was 4:47 pm.

“I can't run this thing, Agent Scully,” Skinner said brusquely. “This is obviously an X-Files case.”

She looked up at her boss. “I know. And I'm all over it. I will find him.” Her phone then beeped, and she looked down at the display, reading the text message. She didn’t know what to think.

[Where is everybody? Come on down. Mulder.]

“I don't know if this is going to make you feel any better,” she said. Scully then turned the phone to face away from her, showing Skinner the message.

“He’s just begging for Kersh to fire him,” Skinner replied, before walking towards the door.

Scully sighed and followed her boss out the door to the hallway, wondering what exactly would be waiting for her in the basement office.

*****

Mulder’s transformation back into his old self was truly something to behold. Even though it wasn’t happening the way Scully had wanted it to, Kersh’s obstacles were proving to be just the hurdles Mulder had needed. Without a second thought, he was just going to leap over those hurdles; he was going to act and damn the consequences. Scully chastised herself for not remembering that about Mulder. Tell him he couldn’t or shouldn’t do something and he would do it anyway, immediately setting out to prove people wrong.

Scully had showed Mulder her support, handing in that request for his reinstatement to the X-Files, but it was like opening Pandora’s box. He was back, becoming reenergized and reinvested in the work, but he was taking foolish risks and putting himself in danger.

And she now found herself following Mulder down a third floor hallway at the FBI, at nearly 10:00 on Friday night, as he was determined to rummage through the belongings of one Howard Salt, an alien abductee and one of Absalom’s followers, who’d been killed on the White House lawn earlier that week.

“Mulder, now while I’m beyond glad that you’re finally… coming back to yourself,” Scully said quietly as they walked down the hallway. “But you shouldn’t be taking these risks. You could be facing either Kersh’s retribution or worse.”

"Scully, I come as a package deal,” he replied, coming to a stop in front of the room he’d been looking for. “You can’t have one without the other.”

She could think of something else that was a package deal. Something he apparently never wanted to talk about.

Mulder and Scully then entered the evidence storage room. She was not happy about it, to say the least. But there she was, following him into danger. It was like old times. She felt herself once again in familiar territory, trying to rein him in, to check his tendency for reckless behavior.

“Mulder, I know you know this, but if anything leaves this room you could be in violation of the law.”

He kept walking, looking around the dark room. “Really? When I was dead I was hoping maybe they changed the rules.”

“Mulder, just being here could be used by Kersh as cause for dismissal.” She felt frustrated, and wondered if he seemed to be acting even more irresponsible than before.

“Then why don't you shut the door so he doesn't find out,” he said.

She stared at him a moment. In all honesty, it might not be a bad thing for Mulder to get fired. But there was more at risk than simply his job. There was the credibility of the X-Files, and all their years of hard work, that could be dismissed as nothing but Mulder’s foolhardy side project. If he was so concerned about the X-Files remaining open, then he sure had a strange way of showing it.

Scully closed the door and walked over to join him. “I just don't know what you're hoping to find in Howard Salt's personal effects.”

“Neither do I, really,” Mulder replied, cutting the plastic off a stack of boxes. “But maybe it's like Howard Salt's picture. I'll know it when I see it.”

“So you'll risk the consequences even though there may be nothing here?” asked Scully. She wished Mulder would realize that he had even more to lose now than ever before.

Mulder lifted the lid to the box and began perusing the contents. “You don't get it, do you, Scully? The man shot at the White House, the prison escapee, there's something bubbling to the surface here. I want to know what it is.”

She stared at him, almost willing him to see reason. “Mulder, you've been through an ordeal that defies all logical explanation. How can you think that these two men have the answers when they defy all standard of credibility?”

“Since when has an X-file not defied a certain standard of credibility?” he replied, booting up the laptop he’d pulled from the box. “At least that's the way it used to work.”

He turned a challenging look on Scully. She met his gaze, and felt his look and tone had been accusatory. The nagging doubt and anxiety she’d felt in his absence returned, her fear that she was incapable of running the X-Files, unable to handle cases the way Mulder would have. She wondered if he felt the same way about her, or if his comment had more to do with her partnership with Agent Doggett.

“Look, Scully, I… I need to make sense of what happened to me. So that I can stop it. Because if I can't stop it, it could happen to anyone. It could happen to you. And who's to say it's going to stop there?”

While she understood this about him, about what was driving him, she wished he’d look at the bigger picture. “Mulder, if you go down the X-Files will go down, too. I mean, theoretically, they could put you in prison for what you're doing here.”

“Yeah, well, compared to where I just was, prison would be a Princess Cruise,” he flippantly replied.

Scully sighed. Apparently he didn’t care about being sent to prison, he didn’t care about consequences. She wanted to scream at him, hit him. Do something to make him wake up to what was really at stake by his actions. But instead of vocalizing this, she decided to just walk away. She couldn’t let him drag her into these things anymore. Her time on the X-Files was soon coming to an end, and she would be walking away for good. She had her own career and her son to think about.

“Ho,” Mulder called out to her as she reached the door, finding something strange on the laptop. “Hey. What the hell is this?”

She stopped just in front of the door, listening to him. No. No. She wasn’t going to do it. She was going to walk out that door and leave him to his own reckless abandon.

“The entire hard drive is taken up with this,” Mulder said. “Ten gigabytes of memory.”

She wasn’t going to give in to this. She was not going to get sucked into this. She was going to walk away. She was… dammit. Her curiosity piqued, Scully walked back over and looked at the laptop screen. She saw a bunch of random letters and numbers. “It's been encrypted.”

“Mm,” he responded, closing the laptop and flipping it over.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Mulder started removing the hard drive. “I'm going to book myself on that Princess Cruise.”

Scully pulled the hard drive from his hands. “I'll book it for you.”

With a smile, he covered up the box, and then followed her out of the evidence room.

Instead of walking away, Scully had quickly decided that the best way to protect Mulder from himself was to help him. If she left him to his own devices, he would surely land himself in hot water almost as soon as he had begun working.

*****

At 11:45 on Saturday morning, November 4th, Mulder was sitting at Scully’s kitchen table on the brand new laptop she’d bought for him, still trying to get ahold of the Lone Gunmen. He wanted them to decrypt Howard Salt’s hard drive. He’d called their office the night before and earlier that morning, but had only gotten the answering machine both times. He’d emailed them, and got no reply. Where the hell were those guys?

A ringing sound broke the quietness of the apartment, and Mulder grabbed the cordless phone. “It’s about time you stooges got back to me.”

“Agent Mulder, I need to speak with Scully,” Skinner said, unamused.

He paused briefly before replying. “Uh… yeah, sure.” He looked over to see Scully walking into the kitchen, dressed in black jeans and her beige sweater, and he held out the phone to her.

She approached the table, taking the phone from Mulder. “Hello?”

“Agent Scully, it’s Skinner. Late last night, Agent Doggett was involved in an incident at the Federal Statistics Center in Crystal City, Virginia.”

“What kind of an incident?” she asked worriedly. Mulder looked up at her, his brows knitting.

Skinner sighed into the phone. “I’m sure he’ll explain everything to you. He’s currently being treated in the emergency room of Washington National.”

Her eyes widened. “He’s been hurt?”

“It’s nothing too serious,” Skinner replied. “But he’d like you to come down here.”

“Okay, I’ll be there,” Scully said, before hanging up the phone and setting it down on the table next to Mulder. She then quickly walked over to the coat rack by the door, slipping on her jacket.

“What’s going on?” asked Mulder.

“My partner’s been hurt,” she replied, checking the pockets of her jacket to make sure she had her keys and FBI badge. “I have to get to the hospital.”

He stared at her, his stomach turning with her reference to someone else as her partner, and he felt anger rising to the surface. “You mean… John Doggett?”

Scully looked over at him, their eyes meeting in a steady gaze. She anxiously wondered if she shouldn’t have used the word ‘partner.’ “Yeah.” They continued to stare at one another for some seconds, until she finally averted her eyes. “Anyway, I gotta go.”

Mulder silently watched her walk out the door. He’d yet to lay his eyes on this Agent Doggett. But then he suddenly remembered waking in the hospital to the sight of Scully and a man she’d called ‘John’ standing together at the foot of his bed. The man’s hand softly rubbed her arm, and he spoke quiet words of reassurance to her. Mulder wondered just how close they were.

When Scully returned later that afternoon, she didn’t offer any information about Doggett’s condition or the apparent incident and Mulder didn’t ask. On Sunday, the morning papers and national news programs all featured the story of escaped convict Travis Moberly aka Absalom and his death in Crystal City. When Mulder arrived at FBI headquarters on Monday morning, he learned of Agent Doggett’s involvement from the Bullpen chatter and promptly made his way up to Skinner’s office on the fourth floor.

Mulder breezed past the secretary in the outer office, the protesting Kimberly Cook who was telling him that the Assistant Director was busy speaking with Agent Doggett, and opened the door to Skinner’s office.

“Sir,” he said, entering the room.

“Agent Mulder,” said Skinner, turning to face him.

Mulder noticed the man sitting in one of the comfy chairs away from the desk. “Is this John Doggett? You Agent Doggett?”

Doggett smiled and stood up to greet Mulder. He’d been looking forward to finally meeting Scully’s old partner. But Mulder shoved him roughly back down into the chair.

“I hope you're not commending him as a hero for what he did…,” said Mulder angrily.

Skinner immediately grabbed him and pushed him away from Doggett. “Agent Mulder, back off.”

“… in this thing, 'cause he's not.” He made for Doggett again, but was blocked by Skinner.

“Back off! I'm not about to referee a boxing match.”

Doggett felt confused by Mulder’s actions, and also slightly amused at what had just transpired. “Just what's the problem here?”

Mulder stared daggers at him. “The problem? You occupy an office that used to be devoted to finding the truth and now you're busy burying it. That's the problem.”

“Whoa, you must've got your wires crossed somewhere, Agent Mulder.” Doggett had no idea what had caused him to react this way.

“You got that man killed,” Mulder accused. ‘Above reproach,’ his ass. He was gonna have to talk to Scully about just what kind of company she was keeping in the basement.

Doggett couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I got him killed?”

Mulder remembered his conversation with Absalom in prison, his desire to speak with him again. “Because of what he knew. What he was going to expose.”

“You see this, Agent Mulder?” Doggett asked, pointing to the deep wound on his cheek where the bullet that killed Absalom had grazed him.

“I see you sitting there, Agent Doggett,” he replied. “That's good enough for me.”

With a last hard look at Skinner, Mulder turned and walked back out the door to the outer office. At just past 7:00 pm, Mulder left the FBI library and made his way to the parking garage, getting into Scully’s car and heading back to Georgetown. She’d taken to using taxis to and from work so he could use her car, as he usually left for headquarters earlier than her and stayed later.

Ten minutes after leaving the garage, Mulder was parking in front of Scully’s building. He walked into her apartment, after unlocking the door, and saw her standing at the kitchen counter, cooking dinner.

“Hey,” he greeted her, hanging his trench coat on the rack by the door.

“Hi,” she said, not looking over at him.

Mulder noticed her stiff posture. “So… how was your day?”

Scully sighed. “Fine. You wanna tell me what happened in Skinner’s office this morning?”

“It sounds like you already know what happened,” Mulder replied, walking over to stand next to the kitchen table.

“Well, I’d like to know what you were thinking by assaulting Agent Doggett,” she said, still not looking at him.

He crossed his arms defensively. “I didn’t… _assault_ him. I may have pushed him. A little.”

She shook her head in disbelief, and turned to face him. “Why? He did nothing wrong.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending him,” said Mulder bitterly, glaring at her.

“A crazed prison escapee takes Agent Doggett hostage at gunpoint, forces him into a federal building, and gets killed. How exactly can you blame Agent Doggett for that?” Scully asked in disbelief.

Mulder’s hands went to his hips and his tone of voice became heated. “He was not crazed, Scully. He knew the truth! He knew why the abductees were being taken, what was being done to them. And your _partner_ , Agent Doggett, got the man killed before he could let that truth be known!”

Scully stared at him, her eyes widening at the acerbic way Mulder had said the word ‘partner.’

“It’s not his fault a SWAT team shot the man!” Scully argued back. “He was an escaped convict who took a federal agent hostage, Mulder! I think your actions this morning in Skinner’s office crossed the line. You were completely unprofessional. Doggett is a good agent, and a decent person.”

“And how do you know what his true intentions are, Scully?” demanded Mulder. “Why is he really on the X-Files? He’s clearly working hard at trying to keep the truth from ever seeing the light of day!”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, and gave him an icy stare. “Agent Doggett’s had my back, all these months, and he’s worked hard on the X-Files, regardless of whatever you may think of him. And you don’t know him, Mulder. I do. You don’t trust my judgment?”

Mulder shook his head in frustration, sighing and turning away from her.

“After all that he has done for me, and even for you, he doesn’t deserve such treatment,” stated Scully.

He stared at her, a steely expression on his face, and then walked out of the kitchen, heading towards the guest room. A couple seconds later, Scully heard the door slam shut, and heaved a sigh.

When Mulder returned to work, she wanted to believe that perhaps getting back into something resembling their former routine would allow their lives, their relationship, to return to some semblance of normalcy. Since he’d come home from the hospital, they shared an apartment, meals, and stilted conversation. They sat together on her couch, watching television or reading, but never sat close enough to touch. They weren’t lovers anymore, as it was proving to be a challenge just to be friends right now. She’d hoped that even though she had a new partner in the basement and a baby in her uterus, they could go back to being Mulder and Scully. But it wasn’t turning out that way. She doubted things would ever be the same again.

*****

At 8:30 on Tuesday morning, the Lone Gunmen finally called back. Scully answered the phone, Mulder having already left for the Hoover Building. Apparently the Gunmen had been dealing with a situation involving Senator Richard Jefferson and a baby. Scully thought it was best not to ask after the details, but she told them of the laptop hard drive belonging to Howard Salt and they agreed to see what they could do about decoding the encryption. She then dropped the hard drive off at their office on her way to FBI headquarters.

On Wednesday morning, November 8th, the Gunmen called Scully and told her they were finally able to break through the encryption. After asking them to come over to her apartment as soon as they were able, she got on the phone and called Agent Doggett, informing him that she’d be working from home for the day. He assured her that was fine, as he also had some other avenues of investigation he was going to pursue and would be out of the basement office for most of the day himself.

Later that afternoon, after receiving a phone call from Scully, Mulder left work early and returned home to her apartment. At just past 4:00 pm, he opened her front door and laid his eyes on Frohike standing in front of him, and they smiled at each other.

“You know, it's really not fair,” said Frohike. “You've been dead for months and you still look better than me. But not by much.” He hugged Mulder tightly around the waist.

Mulder embraced his friend and chuckled. “Melvin. I'd be a whole lot happier to see you if you'd just take your hands off my ass.”

Embarrassed, Frohike let go and stepped back from him. “Sorry.”

Byers and Langly then left the kitchen, crossing the room to greet Mulder, reaching out their hands for him to shake.

“I think it goes without saying that we're all, uh, tremendously relieved,” said Byers.

“And not just because we have big questions about your involvement in a certain… blessed event,” Langly added, glancing back at Scully, who was standing at the head of the kitchen table.

Ignoring this comment, Mulder looked at Scully as Frohike moved to stand next to her. She returned his gaze, but said nothing as the others joined her at the table. She wasn't sure whether Mulder's look meant he was asking her what Langly meant, or if he was annoyed Langly had made the comment. “So much for playing a hunch, Mulder. The, uh, Gunmen were able to decrypt the data that you found on Howard Salt's hard drive. It was a series of file directories that were downloaded the day that he died.”

“Downloaded from where?” he asked her.

“The FSC, the Federal Statistics Center,” answered Langly from where he sat in front of his laptop.

Byers turned to look at Mulder. “A government information bank used by the U.S. Census Bureau where your Mr. H. Salt worked.”

Mulder didn’t know why they were standing around talking when they could be doing. “All right, what are you waiting for, boys? Get cracking.”

“Unless you think we're all idiots, it's only Langly who's the idiot,” said Frohike.

“Don't make like it's my hacking skills, Frohike,” Langly retorted. “I've never seen such a radical counterdefensive.”

Scully hoped what they’d learned would validate Mulder’s theories, and help him to feel that he’d at least accomplished something even if there was very little they could do about it. “Fifteen minutes after Howard Salt was shot at the White House, firewalls went up on every data bank at that very facility.”

“Well, why do that?” Mulder asked innocently. Frohike and Scully exchanged knowing looks, and Mulder smiled. “Because I'm right. Because they would kill to protect what's in those files.”

“Unless you got a password we don't see any way short of that of getting a hold of this data,” rationalized Byers.

“And the thing is, even if you have a pass code you still have to break into the FSC just to use it,” Langly explained. “We all agree, you're going to have to let this one go.”

He stared at the Gunmen, and noticed how uncomfortable they looked. “Oh. I see.” He then looked directly at Scully. “Somebody's been doing a little campaigning for her cause.”

With a slight sense of guilt filling her stomach, Scully looked away from him. She knew she’d gone behind his back and pleaded with the Gunmen not to encourage Mulder to do anything dangerous. She explained that after everything he’d just gone through, it was foolish to put himself at any more risk, that there were more important things that needed his attention. She didn’t think it had been that difficult to enlist the Gunmen to her side, especially since they knew what it had been like for her while Mulder had been gone.

“Well, just remember, boys, this is America,” Mulder said to his friends, before turning his gaze on Scully. “Just because you get more votes doesn't mean you win.”

Scully’s eyes met Mulder’s, meeting his smug look. Why did she even bother? She shook her head and left the kitchen, going into her bedroom to lie down and take a much-needed nap. She felt exhausted, and was looking forward to her prenatal yoga class later that evening. She felt thankful when a new yoga studio opened up in Georgetown, one that actually offered evening classes, and she’d signed up for the Wednesday 8:00 class that was starting tonight and would last for the next six weeks.

Mulder sat down at the table, the Gunmen sitting around him.

"Jesus Christ, fellas. Whose side are you on?"

The Gunmen looked uncomfortable, and averted their eyes from his accusatory stare. But soon the awkward moment passed, and they proceeded to explain to him in detail about the information they’d pulled off Howard Salt’s hard drive. He paid them his rapt attention, but found his mind wandering to other things. He wanted to ask them if they’d been able to look after Scully while he’d been gone. He wanted them to tell him everything they might know about her and the baby. But they’d only find it strange that he didn’t know those things by now, that he hadn’t gotten the answers from Scully herself.

“So, uh, Mulder, we understand some congratulations are in order,” said Langly, nodding his head in the direction of Scully’s hallway.

“I’ve already ordered some authentic Cubans from a trusted black market contact,” Frohike added.

Mulder nodded, not knowing how to exactly to respond.

Byers eyed his friend whom he hadn’t seen in so long. “You know, we did our best to look after her. We tried. Even when she was in and out of the hospital, we tried to do what we could, Mulder. It wasn’t easy. She just didn’t always like to accept help. I mean, she’s so independent…”

“What do you mean ‘in and out of the hospital?’” asked Mulder, his eyes widening. “What happened to her?”

The Gunmen exchanged nervous glances. “Well… she had some incidents,” replied Frohike. “It’s probably all there in the X-Files.”

“But she’s been fine for the last several months,” Langly quickly added. “She got a new doctor, and so that got sorted out. And she’s, you know, she’s doing good.”

“A new doctor?” Mulder asked, his brows knitting in confusion. “What do you…? I thought Dr. Parenti was her doctor.”

Frohike and Langly looked uncomfortably at Byers, who then turned to look at their friend. “Well… there were some complications with that. Some… stuff happened. I think maybe you should ask Scully to explain, Mulder. She’s really the one to talk to about that.”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t already told you,” said Frohike. Langly nodded his agreement.

Mulder cleared his throat, and looked down at his entwined hands on the table. “Um, yeah, I’m sure she will. I guess other things have just gotten in the way lately.”

The Gunmen nodded, exchanging another pointed glance, and promptly changed the subject. An hour later they departed, assuring Mulder they’d be in touch if they figured out a way to get their hands on the US Census data without a password or needing to physically set foot inside the FSC building.

*****

At 7:30 on Wednesday evening, Scully called for a taxi ride to Sun & Moon Yoga on 18th Street NW, the cab company letting her know they’d have a driver there in the next 10 to 15 minutes. She and Mulder had ordered Chinese takeout for dinner earlier, and after they’d finished eating together, Mulder still remained at the kitchen table, hunched over his laptop.

To Mulder, he felt like he’d be pulling an all-nighter. He fondly remembered working long nights with Scully, either at her place or his, and felt himself falling into their familiar pattern. He’d floated theories to her over dinner, and she’d offered counterpoints. Occasionally, he could almost forget he’d been gone for so long and how much had changed in his absence.

He felt they were on the verge of a real breakthrough, but it was evident that Scully’s attentions were no longer solely focused on him and their work. She was now taking a break and going off to some Mommy & Me exercise class or something, and he was once again reminded of just how long he’d been absent and just how much had changed.

Scully pulled her black jacket off the coat rack, slipping it on, and then walked over to where Mulder was sitting at the table. “You want me to stop and get you some coffee on my way home? I know I haven’t been keeping any here, since I don’t want to be tempted to drink it.”

He sighed. “You don’t have to do that, Scully.”

“Mulder, I want to,” she replied. “Besides, it’ll give me an excuse to stop for some ice cream.”

“How can you eat ice cream in November?” asked Mulder, slightly amused.

Scully chuckled. “I can eat ice cream any time of year. I’ll bring you back some coffee.”

She then placed her hand on top of his head, ruffling his hair affectionately, and then walked towards the door. Mulder froze, staring at the laptop, his hands going still above the keyboard. That was the most Scully had touched him since he was in the hospital. He turned his head in time to see her shut the door as she walked out of the apartment. Mulder closed his eyes, sighing. Something deep in his chest clutched at him and ached. He loved her. He missed her touch, the feel of her soft hands on his skin. He missed touching her. But he felt afraid of what would happen if he did. He felt afraid of what he could lose. Mulder had tried to fight it, but Krycek’s warning of “don’t get too attached” had taken root and sprouted in his mind, like a weed, choking the feelings of warmth and tenderness whenever she was near.

Outside her apartment building, Scully stepped onto the sidewalk as a taxicab pulled up to the curb and honked. Upstairs, it hadn’t gone unnoticed that Mulder had allowed Frohike to hug him; that Mulder had wrapped his arms around his friend and embraced him fondly. He hadn’t made a single move to touch her, not even a casual hand at her back or her arm. She’d decided that when she got back from her prenatal yoga class, she was going to have a serious talk with Mulder. It was no use putting it off any longer. She’d been respectful of his wishes so far, maintaining the distance he seemed to need. Their conversations were kept to simple small talk, or about work, and as long as those were the only subjects discussed, things were fine. Scully was sick of fine. She didn’t want things to be fine. She wanted to talk about everything, argue and fight even, if that was necessary. She didn’t want anything to be off-limits, for certain subjects to be avoided.

A voice suddenly called out to her. “Hold up!”

“Agent Doggett?” she asked, seeing a figure running across the street towards her.

“Yeah,” he answered.

Scully turned to the cab driver. “Could you wait a minute?” She then stepped away to speak to her partner.

Doggett was still walking quickly as he approached the curb. “Agent Scully, I'm sorry to surprise you. I don't mean to.”

“What are you doing here at this hour?” she asked him as he stepped up onto the sidewalk. “You're freezing cold.”

“I got something for Agent Mulder only I can't go up there,” Doggett replied. “I don't know him and I know he doesn't trust me, so I'm going to ask you to get it to him.”

Scully knitted her brows. “What do you have to give him?”

Doggett shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his trench coat, hugging it to his body. “Information about this escaped convict who took me hostage. One of his disciples was the man shot on the White House lawn.”

“Oh, yeah, Agent Mulder knows that already,” she told him.

“What he doesn't know is that man had a computer diskette that he was trying to get to the President,” he said.

Scully remembered Doggett telling her that morning that he was going to be doing some investigative work outside the office. “Who gave you this information?”

Doggett still didn’t want to tell her about Knowle Rohrer. “I can't tell you that, but what I can tell you is… is this diskette was labeled with a pass code.”

“You have this, this password?” she asked.

“It's three words,” he replied. “‘Fight the future.’”

She sighed, suspecting what was to come if she related that information to Mulder. After directing Agent Doggett to use her taxi, she watched him drive away. Scully felt torn. She knew the work was important to Mulder, but she also knew he’d be putting himself at serious risk by using the information Doggett had given her. She’d wanted to have a real discussion with Mulder about what was happening between them, about the baby, and what was going to happen in their future. Scully thought of the three words Doggett had said to her, the password that would send Mulder in the opposite direction she needed him to go. How fucking ironic.

A few minutes later, Scully walked into her apartment. Mulder was still sitting at the table in her dimly lit kitchen, bent over the laptop and reading the information the Gunmen had decrypted on Howard Salt’s hard drive. She couldn’t help but wonder if Mulder would ever be that invested, that interested, in their son.

At the sound of the door closing, Mulder lifted his head from his hand and turned to look over at her, leaning back in the chair. “Scully, what are you doing back?” She didn’t respond, a battle raging inside her. Mulder stood up and walked towards her. “Did something just happen?”

“I'm, um… I'm not exactly sure I should tell you, Mulder.” Scully didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to tell him. She needed him to let this go. She needed him to see that there was something far more important than the work, than the X-Files, happening in their life right now. She wanted him to make a choice. She wanted him to choose her, and their child.

“Scully, if you know something that can get us moving forward again, you need to tell me,” Mulder said firmly.

She looked up at him, debating what to do, and felt herself on the verge of breaking. It then became abundantly clear to Scully that Mulder didn’t get it. He clearly felt risking his life or his imprisonment was worth it. She’d just gotten him back, and he didn’t seem to care about possibly being taken away again. And he still felt there was an ‘us’ with regards to the X-Files. He wanted them to move forward, but he was moving in a direction away from her. She supposed he was making his choice. Scully decided to tell Mulder what Agent Doggett had told her, hoping that he would make the choice she needed him to make, but knowing that he wouldn’t.

*****

The clock struck midnight, Wednesday evaporating and Thursday beginning. Scully stood in her kitchen, against the back counter and her hands grasping the edge, but she wasn’t alone. She was joined by the two men she called partner as well as the Lone Gunmen. The silence in the room was deafening. The Gunmen and Agent Doggett sat around her table, while Mulder stood stoically at the other end of the kitchen, his back to the living room.

Doggett sighed, crossing his arms. “It wasn’t my intention to lay a trap. That Absalom character claimed the US Census Bureau had information that was somehow connected to the information Howard Salt was trying to get to the President, that the Census Bureau had proof that they were here among us. Who is among us? That’s the question.”

Mulder scoffed. “If you seriously have to ask that question, Agent Doggett, then I wonder if you really belong down in the basement.”

“Mulder…,” Scully said, her tone a warning.

“You mean aliens?” Doggett replied sarcastically. “That’s crazy talk.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” said Mulder. “Are you even serious about the X-Files? I poured my blood and sweat into those cases. I’m not about to let you come in and fuck everything up.”

Doggett stared at him, dumbfounded. “Hey, I do my job to the very best of my abilities. Agent Scully and I have done some good work together.”

He gave Agent Doggett a sarcastic, condescending smile. “I’m sure you have.”

Scully glared at him, strongly disliking the veiled insult. “That’s enough, Mulder. I’m not gonna stand here and listen to a pissing contest.”

The Gunmen remained silent, staring at the table in front of them, wishing Scully hadn’t ordered them back to her apartment. They desperately wanted to leave, the tension in the room palpable and stifling.

Mulder stared at her, remembering that Scully hadn’t even wanted to be involved with this at all. _“There has to be some other way of getting the information,”_ she’d pleaded with him earlier. _“At least take some time to work out a game plan.” “While they destroy the evidence?”_ Mulder had heatedly replied.

“You didn’t have to come,” he said to Scully.

“Right, like I’d leave you and the three stooges to run wild on your own,” she retorted. “But no, Mulder, I didn’t want to be there. And I didn’t want _you_ to be there either!”

He shook his head. “I did what I did because it needs to stop! I don’t want what happened to me to happen to somebody else. To happen to you, or th…” He felt himself about to mention her baby, and quickly stopped himself. “I couldn’t live with myself if… I did nothing to prevent it from happening to others.”

She sighed. “But you took a huge risk, Mulder.”

“Save it, Scully. I know the plan got screwed up. No thanks to _your partner_.” Mulder glowered in Doggett’s direction.

“You could’ve been killed!” she shouted.

Mulder turned his steely gaze at her. “That’s what we do, Scully. We take risks. Or have you forgotten? Maybe you’ve been with Agent Doggett too long.”

An uncomfortable silence once again filled the kitchen. Scully stared at him, her eyes widening at his cold expression and bitter tone. She felt stung, as if he’d struck her. Seeing the look on her face, Mulder immediately felt regret. He’d intentionally upset a pregnant woman. Some good guy he was. But it had felt like she’d gotten the Gunmen to gang up on him, to side with her, and that they’d entered into some strange custody battle over his friends. He’d told her not to come with them, that he and the Gunmen could handle it, but she refused to let him go without her. And she’d been out there, in the parked vehicle, when the cavalry arrived to blow his head off. As he frantically made his way out of the building through the duct work, he worried about Scully. He’d hoped she hadn’t been seen, that she’d been able to get away safely. He’d never forgive himself if anything happened to her again. Mulder wanted to keep the world safe for her, for her child. He wished he could just tell her that.

Doggett and the Lone Gunmen glanced between Mulder and Scully, still silently staring at each other, and all four of them immediately stood up from the table at the same time.

“Well, I suppose I should go and report to AD Skinner,” said Doggett, moving away from the table.

The Gunmen walked past Mulder, giving him a pat on the back or the arm, telling him to give them a call whenever he gets a chance, and followed Doggett out the front door. Scully turned from him, leaning back against the counter and staring at the wall. She had thought getting back to work might help him, but it was only taking him farther and farther away from her.

“You gonna be okay?” Mulder asked quietly from where he stood at the end of the kitchen table.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get the information you wanted,” replied Scully, ignoring his question and not looking at him. “I know how badly you wanted it. How important it was to you.”

He sighed. “Well, it’s not so unusual for the proof to slip through our fingers. It’s just the nature of the game we play with the X-Files. You know that as well as I do.”

She continued to stare fixedly at the wall, afraid that if she looked at him the emotions that were so close to the surface would erupt. She refused to cry in front of him. Scully realized that as long as Mulder continued to work for the FBI, as long as he continued his crusade for the X-Files, she’d never have peace of mind. She’d feel terrified every time he worked a case. She’d lie awake at night, not knowing whether he was hurt, or dead; not knowing whether he would come home safe or in a body bag. How could she put herself through that? How could she put her son through that?

“It’s not a game, Mulder. And it’s certainly not one I want to play anymore.”

His eyes widened. What did she mean by that? And why wouldn’t she look at him? Mulder crossed the length of the kitchen in seconds. Scully started to walk away, to leave the kitchen before he could block her departure. He reached out and grabbed her hand to stop her from leaving, to get her to look at him. She turned sharply to face him, not expecting the contact. Mulder held her hand longer than he really needed to. It was an electric current when they touched. They both felt it. Their stomachs filled with butterflies, and their breathing quickened. He had a fleeting notion to pull her into his arms and kiss her passionately.

But then Mulder let go of her hand and averted his eyes. “I’m sorry. About tonight. About… everything.”

She paused, nodding her head, and then whispered, “I just don't want to lose you again.”

“I know,” he answered quietly, his voice distant.

“I need to go to bed,” Scully stated. She then left the kitchen, Mulder not stopping her from walking away. He watched her enter her bedroom, closing the door behind her. For the first time since he came home from the hospital, he wished he wasn’t sleeping in the guest room.


	89. "I realized it was me, that I was afraid. Afraid to believe."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully come to an understanding with regards to her future on the X-Files. When Scully has a medical emergency, and he learns something about Doggett's past, Mulder experiences an awakening.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog of the episode "Empedocles" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Greg Walker, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sia – “Butterflies”
> 
> We've been to the top, we've been to the bottom  
> We've known everything, and forgotten  
> You've kicked me around, you've wrapped me in cotton  
> You've carried our load, and you've shot 'em
> 
> Oh yes the butterflies are still there  
> Oh yes the butterflies are still there
> 
> We've argued by the baggage claim  
> We've accepted, and we've laid blame  
> We've drank Sang Thip in monsoonal rain  
> We've felt separate, and felt the same
> 
> Oh yes the butterflies are still there  
> Oh yes the butterflies are still there  
> Oh yes the butterflies are still there  
> Oh yes the butterflies are still there
> 
> We've shared joy, and we've shared pain  
> We've shared guilt, and we've shared shame  
> We've bought into stupid games  
> We've freed each other, and we've laid claim
> 
> Oh yes the butterflies are still there  
> Oh yes the butterflies are still there  
> Oh yes the butterflies are still there  
> Oh yes the butterflies are still there
> 
> Because we came from the same cocoon

Before the sun rose on Thursday morning, November 9th, Mulder quietly got out of bed and made his way into the bathroom to shower and shave. The scars on his face, wrists, and ankles were pretty much gone. The one on his chest was still healing, but he knew it was only a short matter of time before it too disappeared. Despite only getting a few hours of sleep, he’d at least been spared any nightmares or flashbacks upon waking. But he’d woken with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, a remnant of the heated argument with Scully the night before.

Once he’d finished shaving, he walked over to the door leading to her bedroom, cracking it open as quietly as possible. It was still dark out, the sky only beginning to lighten. Mulder gazed at her bed, and saw that Scully was still sleeping. He’d hoped his shower hadn’t woken her up. If it had, she’d obviously had no trouble falling back to sleep. He watched her lying on her side, in the middle of the bed. There was something dark on the mattress next to her.

He opened the door wider, and as noiselessly as he could manage, he made his way across the room to the side of the bed. The dark thing was a portable CD player. He thought she must’ve started listening to music at night. Maybe to help her sleep. Not able to fight his curiosity, wanting to know what music she was listening to these days, Mulder looked over the area of the mattress next to her for the headphones, but couldn’t see any. He then saw that the headphones cord disappeared underneath her duvet cover.

Softly lifting the cover, Mulder looked to see that the headphones were lying on the mattress beside her pregnant belly. He guessed she was making her baby listen to classical music, probably Chopin or Bach. He immediately decided he’d attempt to get her kid to listen to some decent rock bands. But his curiosity hadn’t really been satisfied, and so he pulled the headphones out from underneath the cover and placed them on his head. Mulder then reached down to hit the ‘play’ button, and what he heard caused his eyes to widen in shock. It was his own voice, having a one-sided conversation about _Star Trek_ vs. _Star Wars_. As he continued to listen, he realized he’d had this conversation with Langly several years ago, although Langly’s side of the conversation had been cut out.

He pulled the headphones off his head, gently placing them back underneath the bed covers, pausing briefly to stare at Scully’s swollen abdomen. Her baby had been listening to his voice. He felt a lump grow in his throat, and tears pricked his eyes. He momentarily had a desire to touch her belly, to feel how different her body was to when he’d left her in the spring. But his guts immediately knotted in fear, and he laid the duvet cover back down over her, before quietly walking back to the bathroom.

Mulder arrived at FBI headquarters just before 6:30 am, and using the copy he’d made from Scully’s key, let himself into the basement office. He didn’t have to report to the bullpen until 8:15. Once he sat at his old desk and logged onto the computer, he searched the X-Files records by date and came up with 11 case files that spanned from the date he’d gone missing to the date he’d returned. One of those cases was his own, and Mulder suddenly remembered teasing her about how often she kept making personal appearances in the X-Files’ case reports. He supposed his most recent personal appearance takes the cake. So other than the case file on his abduction, Scully and Agent Doggett had worked 10 cases in five months. Not too bad, really. After writing down the case file numbers, Mulder went searching through the cabinets.

By 8:00, he had only finished reading three case files, and wasn’t sure whether he wanted to read anymore. Mulder didn’t know what was more disturbing: Agent Doggett cutting a foot-long slug out of Scully’s upper back or Dr. Parenti being somehow tied to that Duffy Haskell character, and those dead wives and babies of his. The case report didn’t actually prove anything, of course, and law enforcement still hadn’t been able to locate Mr. Haskell’s whereabouts. The case report mentioned a government source informing Agent Doggett that Haskell belonged to the Defense Intelligence Agency. Mulder therefore doubted whether he could ever be prosecuted, or even found. Apparently Dr. Parenti’s treating Haskell’s dead wives had made her spooked enough to get a different doctor.

With panic starting to overwhelm him, Mulder thought back to his memories of all those visits to Dr. Parenti’s office. She’d been certain her last IVF hadn’t been successful. He vividly remembered her getting her menstrual period following its failure. In the throes of passion, she’d whimpered those three words she’d never spoken beforehand. But had Parenti done something to Scully? What if the baby wasn’t really his? Could this be something she was unaware of? Or maybe she was aware, and she just didn’t want to tell him. He knew he’d felt apprehensive about talking to her about her pregnancy, but he was now starting to wonder why she hadn’t brought the subject up herself.

Soon the clock told a paranoid and anxious Mulder it was time to head to the third floor, and after placing the files back into the cabinets, he left the basement office, closing and locking the door behind him.

*****

Scully woke up to the 7:00 am alarm and quickly got out of bed, determined to speak to Mulder before he left for work, only to find that he had already left the apartment. He’d gone much earlier than usual, probably wanting to avoid seeing her, she assumed. She glanced out her living room window and saw that her car was still parked out front, so he must've taken a taxi to work. At least she hoped that's where he'd gone. With a sinking heart and on the verge of tears, she began her morning routine.

At 8:30 she sat at her kitchen table, finishing up her bowl of Special K™, and the tears that had been threatening to make an appearance finally started to fall. There was no getting around it anymore, no denying it. Mulder had had a bad reaction to the baby. He seemed as though he was afraid of it, which filled Scully with fear. She thought back to what they had gone through with the IVF process, the stress of it and the heartbreak over its continued failure. She knew she hadn’t been the only one hoping for a child; that she hadn’t been the only one who’d been devastated when it failed to work.

But things had obviously changed. A child would clearly get in the way of Mulder’s quest to get the X-Files back, would impede his all-important work. It was also growing more obvious that his feelings for her had even changed. She didn’t want to believe that was true, but in her emotional state it was all she could think unless he proved her wrong. She hoped and prayed that he still loved her.

As the baby within her began to kick hard over the distress of his mother, Scully willed herself to stop crying. After wiping the tears from her face, she started to rub her belly in a smooth, comforting motion. “It’s okay, I’m okay,” she said to her son. “Everything’s going to be all right. We’re gonna be fine. You and me. We’ll be okay.”

Once she’d slipped on her coat, and ensured that she had her wallet, FBI badge, and holster, she walked outside to the waiting taxicab that would transport her the short distance to the Hoover Building. Just after 9:00 am, Scully walked through the open doorway to the basement office, where Doggett was already sitting at his desk.

“Good morning,” she greeted him, hanging her coat up on the rack by the door.

“Mornin’, Agent Scully,” he replied, watching her walk over to her desk and lower herself into the chair. “Listen… I’m really sorry about last night. If I had even suspected that it was a setup, I would’ve told you that from the start. I would never have intentionally led you or Agent Mulder into a dangerous situation.”

She sighed. “I know that, Agent Doggett. No one blames you. And deep down, I don’t think Agent Mulder really does either. But that does leave the question of this source of yours, and how trustworthy he actually is.”

He’d been starting to wonder the same thing himself. “Anyways, we got a phone call a few minutes ago from the Worcester County District Attorney, up there in Massachusetts. The trial for Randall Cooper is supposed to start on Monday. The DA said she’d hopefully be able to fax some information for us to go over by the end of the day.”

“All right,” replied Scully. “Well, then, I suppose we should review our case report.”

Doggett nodded and stood up from the desk, heading over to the filing cabinets.

When the clock struck 12:00, Scully got up from the desk and grabbed her coat, telling Doggett she’d be back later, and made her way to the elevator at the end of the hallway. A minute later, she was stepping off the elevator onto the third floor, where she proceeded to make her way to the bullpen. Upon entering the large open-air office, busy and crowded with desks and agents, Scully scanned the room looking for her partner. She hoped he was there, and hadn’t run off somewhere, getting himself into trouble. But she smiled, feeling a sense of relief, to see Mulder sitting at one of the desks on the far side of the room, typing on his computer.

As she made her way through the sea of desks, Scully was keenly aware of the sudden stares she was getting. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d set foot in this room, knowing it must’ve been before Mulder’s abduction. She had almost reached his desk when she was unexpectedly stopped by a hand on her arm.

“Dana, it’s so good to see you!”

Scully turned to see Agent Black standing there, dressed in a gray skirt suit, looking as young and beautiful as ever. “Hi, Natalie. How are you?”

The younger agent smiled. “Oh, I’m great. Busy and stressed, of course. But other than that, I’m great. How’ve you been? You look amazing. And you’re getting so big! You’re huge!”

“Yeah, I suppose I am,” Scully replied, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She found that she never cared all that much about random people looking at her belly when she went out in public. But when she received those same curious stares when at FBI headquarters, she felt completely different about it. She couldn’t wait until she was out of this place for good.

“It’s great having Mulder back in the bullpen,” said Natalie.

She stared at her a second, before nodding. Scully had no doubt in her mind that Natalie just loved having Mulder up in the bullpen again.

“You know… I still can’t believe what happened to him,” Natalie stated with a dumbfounded look, before she started laughing. “How in the world did you bury him alive? I mean, aren’t you a pathologist?”

“Scully?”

She turned to see Mulder standing up at his desk, giving her a questioning look. Thankfully she was saved from continuing this passive-aggressive conversation with Natalie, and excused herself. Scully then walked towards Mulder, joining him at his desk.

“Care to take me to lunch?” she asked him, smiling.

He stared down at her, suddenly feeling pleasant butterflies fill his stomach, and he grinned, averting his eyes. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. I could eat.”

Several minutes later they had walked two blocks and were entering the familiar corner luncheonette.

Feeling self-conscious again, Scully turned to Mulder and said, “I don’t know if I can get into a booth right now. We might have to get a table.”

“That’s okay,” he replied, smiling down at her.

They then sat at a table by the window, where they each ordered a sandwich. After some small talk about how their day at work was going so far while they ate their lunch, Mulder decided to talk to Scully about the X-Files cases he’d read earlier that morning. He told her he was impressed with her work on the human bat thing case, and she’d scoffed, shaking her head. He then told her she was very lucky to have gotten out of Utah alive, mildly scolding her for running off to the other side of the country alone. Mulder begrudgingly stated that he was thankful Doggett had gotten there in time. And after bracing himself, he asked Scully what had happened with Dr. Parenti, what had made her choose a new doctor.

While pleasantly surprised that he was finally starting to ask her questions, talking about Dr. Parenti and what had happened with that Duffy Haskell case wasn’t easy for her. There were nagging fears and anxieties she’d tried to suppress, worries about her pregnancy and its origin she didn’t want to think about.

Mulder then struck up the courage to tell Scully of the decision he’d made earlier that morning, after he’d left the basement office. He cleared his throat, and nervously took a sip of his iced tea. “Um, I’ve been doing some thinking…”

She watched him from across the table, her stomach immediately doing somersaults. Scully didn’t know whether to feel dread, or if he was about to tell her what she’d been desperately needing to hear since he returned.

“And, well, I’m gonna turn in an official request to HR to reinstate our partnership after you get back from maternity leave,” Mulder said. “It might mean the two of us being stuck in the bullpen for a couple months, but I’m positive Agent Doggett isn’t gonna hang around in the basement by himself for very long. And then we can request a reassignment to the X-Files.”

Scully looked down at the table, simultaneously feeling relief he hadn’t said anything terrible and disappointment he hadn’t said anything important, and then looked up at him. “Mulder, I’m not coming back to the X-Files when my maternity leave is up. I’m not even coming back to headquarters.” He stared at her, his mouth falling open slightly, but he didn’t speak and so she continued. “I’m going back to Quantico. They had an opening for Lead Forensic Pathologist, and George offered it to me. I’ll also be teaching at the Academy.”

He looked at her, feeling an indescribable sinking feeling. “I, uh… yeah. That’s understandable.”

She watched his sad expression, and immediately felt tears prick her eyes as she chewed her bottom lip to stop it from quivering. “It’s not an easy choice, you know.” Impossible to fight it, the tears began to fall and her voice choked with emotion. “It’s nearly eight years of my life. The best years of my life. I’ve seen and done things I never could’ve imagined in my wildest dreams. And I owe it all to you.”

Mulder shook his head sadly. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“How can you say that?” Scully asked, hastily brushing the tears from her cheeks. “I owe you everything. I owe so much to the years I spent with you, with the X-Files. And it’s not easy to walk away. But I have to.”

“You don’t owe anything, Scully,” he replied. “You never have. You’ve paid your dues. More than paid them.”

She took a deep breath. “Are you disappointed with me? I know how important the work is to you.”

He sighed. “Of course not. I’ll find some way to continue my work. It’ll be okay.”

Scully stared at him for a brief second, wondering if Mulder’s abduction ordeal had made the work more important to him than she was, than their partnership. It was certainly starting to seem that way. She glanced at the clock on the wall, noticing it was after 1:00 pm. “We should get going. I’ve got to get back to the office.”

Mulder nodded, standing up from the table. After Scully paid their check, they then walked the two blocks back to the Hoover Building in silence, lost in their own confusing thoughts about what the future had in store for them.

*****

On Sunday morning, November 12th, Scully paced the kitchen, waiting for the hot water to boil for her tea and wondering what she was going to do that day. When her pregnancy became no longer something she could hide, she stopped attending Mass with her mother in Alexandria. The blatant stares and self-righteous looks she got from a lot of the parishioners made attending church no longer worth the effort. This left her with extra free time on the weekends. She contemplated what to do with her time that day. Errands needed to be run. She had to decide what to cook for dinner, and if she needed to go to the grocery store. Mulder soon appeared in the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a blue sweater layered over a white undershirt, with his black leather jacket over the top.

“What do you want to do for dinner tonight?” Scully asked him, standing in front of the open door of the refrigerator. “I don’t think I feel like cooking.” She then turned to look at Mulder. “You going somewhere?”

“Uh, yeah,” he replied. “There's some things I wanted to do. And I, uh, I might head to the office and, you know, read up on some more cases for a while.”

Her brows furrowed. She wished he’d stay home with her. “Oh… okay. You need my keys?”

He shook his head, and started walking towards the door. “Oh, no, that’s all right. I’d feel better if you had the car here. I’ll hail a cab.”

Scully then watched Mulder leave, hoping he wouldn’t be gone too long, but knowing he’d probably be in the office all day. Later on, after spending some time trying to decide what she felt like eating for lunch, she finally grabbed the cordless phone and ordered a pizza.

At just past 12:30 pm, there was a knock on her door. Scully walked out of the bathroom and through the kitchen, heading towards her front door, expecting the delivery guy, and there was another knock. Being 31 weeks pregnant, she knew that she was much slower these days. Upon reaching the door, Scully stood on her tiptoes to look through the peephole. The sight surprised her, and as she opened the door for Mulder she thought it was about time she got another key made for him.

“Mulder.” She had not expected him to have come back so soon.

“What?” he replied casually, holding the gift behind his back. His eyes roamed over her, noticing she was still wearing the blue silk pajamas and robe she’d been wearing earlier, and he thought she was more beautiful than ever. He also felt pretty amused. The old Scully would never have stayed in her pajamas this long.

Scully still looked at him with surprise. “I was just about to jump in the shower, but I was waiting for the pizza man.”

Mulder shot her a phony suspicious look. “You got something going on with the pizza man I should know about?”

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “The pizza man?”

“Well, correct me if I'm wrong but you just said you were waiting for the pizza man to jump in the shower,” he accused.

“No, what I mean was the pizza man's usually late, and so…” Scully gave up trying to explain, smiled at him and sighed. “Are you gonna come in?”

Mulder, continuing to play the role of the injured party, followed her inside the apartment as she turned from the door. “Thank you.”

Scully walked away, heading through the living room. “I feel like I'm stuck in an episode of _Mad About You._ ”

As she made her way toward the bathroom, he closed the door and slipped the wrapped gift he had hidden behind him onto the couch, placing some pillows next to it, and stood beside the arm of the sofa.

“Well, uh, yeah, but small technicality,” Mulder said. “ _Mad About You_ was about a married couple, and we just work together.”

“Yeah, well, you know what I'm talking about,” muttered Scully. What the hell did he mean by ‘they just work together?’

He nodded. “I do, I do.”

She grabbed the bath towel she’d left on the sink, placing it back in the closet. She supposed she could shower later. “And when was the last time we really worked together, Mulder?” she called out from the bathroom, before heading back to the living room.

“What, what I'm trying to say is that, uh… we have no good reliable information on this man. I mean, what I am saying is the pizza man…,” Mulder said, now pointing to her swollen belly. “…is not above suspicion.”

“Ah, I see,” Scully replied, glancing down at the roundness protruding from her pajama top. At least Mulder had graduated from ignoring it completely to now making jokes. She supposed that was a step in a positive direction. She looked up at him and he smiled, glancing obviously to the couch beside him. Scully followed his gaze and noticed the almost-hidden present, her eyes lighting up. “Is that for me?”

“Yeah.” Excited, pleasant butterflies had filled his stomach at the happy look on her face.

She bent down in front of him to pick up the present. “Nice package.”

Mulder suddenly felt a bit modestly embarrassed, as her head had been down near his crotch. “Thank you.”

“What's the occasion?” asked Scully.

“Oh!” he replied, having slightly misunderstood her meaning before, he quickly realized that she was talking about the gift. “Uh, I was going through some stuff after my mother died and, um, it's just an old family keepsake and I wanted you to have it.”

He’d gone out to the storage facility that presently housed the furniture from his old apartment, looking over everything. He then went and checked out the storage unit he’d rented after clearing out his mother’s apartment and the summerhouse in Quonochontaug. He’d seen the doll, which had been made in Holland and had once belonged to his mother’s Dutch grandmother. He knew the doll rightfully would’ve gone to his sister Samantha, and Mulder didn’t want to keep it locked up in storage. He instantly thought of Scully and took the doll to the Hallmark store, thankful the place was open on Sundays.

A gift was the last thing she’d ever expected, and she felt warmth spread through her as she looked at him. “Well, I'm touched.”

Then there was knocking, and Mulder turned to glance at the door before looking back at her. “Little Caesar, I presume?” He walked over to answer the door, where a young man was standing there holding a pizza. He thought the guy looked like a total dude – mid 20’s, tall, spiky dark hair, glasses, and looking clearly bored. Mulder looked at him intently, then turned an accusing glare back at Scully.

She sighed, and addressed the delivery kid. “Hi. Just, uh, give it to the man with the funny look on his face.” She then sat down on the couch to open her gift.

“Yeah, it's $29.08,” he said to Mulder.

“$29.08? What'd she get on it, a tank of gas?” he replied sarcastically, his voice ripe with amused shock over the price as he pulled out his wallet from the inside jacket pocket.

Suddenly, while sitting on the couch, Scully felt a sharp pain rip through the left side of her abdomen, and she gasped, leaning over in pain.

Mulder sharply turned at the sound. “Scully?” But she didn’t answer. “Scully!” He ran over to her, crouching down beside her, but she was in too much pain to speak to him. He turned back to face the pizza delivery guy. “Call 911.”

The man instantly ran for the phone as Mulder placed a soothing hand on Scully’s back.

“What hospital will the ambulance be taking her to?” the delivery guy asked him, walking back into the living room with the cordless phone.

Mulder took the phone from him. “Hold on,” he spoke into the receiver, before addressing his partner. “What hospital, Scully?”

She took a deep breath. “My doctor is Dr. Bajaj. She works out of George Washington and the Medical Center.”

“George Washington University Hospital or the Washington Medical Center,” Mulder said to the 911 operator. "I don't care. Whichever will be faster." Once he’d finished giving whatever information he could over the phone, he hung up. “Should you lie down, Scully?”

She tried to move, but got another sharp, searing pain. He saw how scared she was, as she tensed up. He thought she was probably afraid to move. Mulder got up from his crouching position to sit on the couch next to her, his arm going around her back. “Everything’s gonna be all right. The ambulance is on its way.”

The pain was almost unbearable, and tears stung her eyes as fear started to grip her. “I can’t lose my baby, Mulder. I can’t…”

“That is not going to happen, Scully.” He felt seized by panic, but he was trying his best not to show it as he stroked her hair back from her face, trying to comfort her.

Fifteen minutes later, although to Mulder it felt like 15 hours, the ambulance finally arrived and got Scully onto a stretcher. While they looked her over, they told him to grab whatever recent medical information on the patient he could get his hands on. Mulder quickly went to the desk in the living room, where he knew Scully kept her medical records, and grabbing the manila folder, followed the EMTs out the door.

*****

At 1:42 pm on Sunday, Scully was wheeled into the Washington Medical Center emergency room on a gurney as Mulder walked quickly to stay beside her. They were met by an African American ER nurse, with clipboard in hand, and one of the EMTs handed her the medical records Mulder had brought with them.

The nurse took the file folder and glanced down at her clipboard, before speaking hurriedly. “That Scully? Dana? She's got what? Abdominal pains?”

“Her doctor is Dr. Bajaj,” said Mulder.

“Oh, he's been called,” the nurse replied.

Mulder quickly corrected her. “ _She._ ”

The ER nurse looked at him. “Who are you? The husband?”

“No.”

“Then you wait outside,” the nurse said sternly, giving him a no-nonsense look of warning.

What the hell kind of question was that, anyways? What was this, 1955? Shouldn’t a more appropriate question have been… ‘Are you immediate family?’ Of course, he wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. He felt that he was, but he knew he legally wasn’t. But he was her active Health Care Agent on her proxy, and that if anything should happen to her, which prevented her from being able to make her own decisions, he had Power of Attorney. But what if the nurse had asked, ‘Are you the father?’ Would he have been able to confidently answer that question, either way? With a sinking feeling, he doubted whether he could. He knew that Scully hadn’t been with anyone else. Of course she hadn’t. But he still didn’t have an answer as to how her pregnancy even came about. What if Dr. Parenti had done something to her? What if that Duffy Haskell had been involved somehow? He hadn’t been able to voice his fears to Scully, and she had offered no information to allay them.

Mulder helplessly watched the gurney and the team of medical personnel go through a set of double doors, leaving him alone in the hall. That was until a familiar face immediately arrived. Mulder turned his panicked and worried expression on Agent Doggett, surprised to see him there.

“Agent Mulder, what happened?” Doggett asked.

“How'd you find out?” replied Mulder.

He had just left Scully’s apartment, where he’d tried to bring her the latest information he’d received that morning on their office fax machine from the Worcester DA on the Randall Cooper trial. “I was dropping something off. The landlord told me.”

The ER nurse noticed Doggett standing there, and approached the two men. “Are you the husband?”

“Me?” he replied, staring at her with a confused expression. “No.”

He looked over at Mulder, but Mulder said nothing. However, Mulder had wanted to say plenty to that nurse but held back and bit his tongue now that Agent Doggett had showed up. His phone then started ringing. “Excuse me.” Mulder stepped a few feet away to answer the phone, noticing the nurse had started talking to Doggett.

“Mulder.”

“Special Agent Fox Mulder?”

It was a woman’s voice, but he didn’t recognize it. “Speaking.”

“Agent Mulder, my name is Monica Reyes. We never met. Not since you've been alive, I should say.”

“Who?” he asked impatiently.

“Special Agent Reyes. I know this is out of the blue, but I have a case I need your help on. It involves a certain phenomenon.”

Jesus Christ. He didn’t have time for this. “I can't help you, Agent Reyes, for so many reasons. I think you should contact Agent Doggett at the X-Files.”

“I can't call Agent Doggett because it involves him,” replied Monica.

Mulder looked over at the man in question, still talking to the ER nurse, who had apparently been joined by another member of hospital staff. It was a man dressed in blue scrubs and a white lab coat. Mulder guessed it was an ER physician.

“I'm in New Orleans, but I can be in DC in a few hours,” Monica said. “It's important, Agent Mulder. Very.”

He paused. This really wasn’t the best time, but… whatever. “Call me when you get here.” Mulder then hung up the phone and walked over to Agent Doggett just as the ER nurse walked away. Dammit.

“They're telling us not to worry,” Doggett told him. “They're running some tests.”

Mulder nodded, but he didn’t feel so reassured. He walked through the double doors, looking for the room which held Scully, but he was quickly met by that ER nurse outside her door.

"Excuse me, sir, but only immediate family is allowed back here."

Before he could give this nurse a piece of his mind, a woman in a red skirt and white lab coat was hurrying towards them. She had golden brown skin and long black hair, and Mulder guessed this was Scully's doctor.

"This is Dana Scully's room, correct?" she asked the nurse. "Is everything in her chart?"

"Yes, doctor, I believe so," she replied.

The women then disappeared into Scully's room, paying no attention to Mulder, and he sighed. He then walked away from the door, heading to the waiting room. About 20 minutes later, a young Japanese woman in blue nursing scrubs entered the waiting room, holding a manila file folder.

"Mr. Mulder?"

He looked up sharply, quickly standing up from the chair. "Is she asking for me?" he anxiously said to the nurse.

"Uh, no," she replied. "I've got Dr. Scully's medical records that you sent with her. We made copies and put them in her chart. Here's the originals."

Mulder sighed and took the folder from her. "Thanks." He then sat back down, placing the folder on the chair next to him. A couple minutes later, he glanced down at the file and remembered what the Lone Gunmen had said about Scully being in and out of the hospital. Mulder reached down for the folder, feeling torn about whether he had a right to read her medical information. But it didn't take too long to convince himself that he did.

As he looked through the file, he noticed doctors' records from Scully's hospital stays. The one in Washington DC, on the night he’d been abducted, where her diagnosis ended up being pregnancy. There was a record of her hospital stay in Arizona in June, where she was treated for cuts and bruises. Her hospital stay in Utah, after Doggett had rescued her from that cult, where she was treated for spinal bruising and a wound infection. Test results showed no harm had been done to 'the fetus.' Then another hospital stay in July, where she was monitored to prevent complications after having an amniocentesis done at another hospital. She was also seen not long after he was found dead, and she'd been treated for pregnancy-induced hypertension.

Mulder could only sigh and shake his head over what Scully had been through. She was very lucky that nothing fatal had happened to her, or her baby. Inside the folder was another manila folder, in the back underneath the hospital records. The tab label read 'Quantico Lab.' Mulder opened it and saw that the file contained amniocentesis results. Scully's baby was healthy and no health risks were detected nor were any defects. Nothing abnormal was indicated in the results. Mulder exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He felt grateful relief knowing there was nothing wrong with her baby.

He turned the page and underneath was another form, which reported the DNA analysis of the amniocentesis. The baby was male. It was a boy. And Scully knew she was having a boy. He would've wondered why she'd never said anything if he hadn't been keenly aware that he hadn't exactly made it easy for her to talk to him about it. The third and last piece of paper in the folder was titled 'Genetic Test Report.' The Quantico lab technician, at 'Special Agent Dana Scully's request,' ran the DNA from the amniocentesis against the DNA in the FBI's data bank.

Mulder's eyes widened as he read the result.

"Out of all available DNA samples that can currently be accessed by the Federal Bureau of Investigation, only one sample proved a probable match to the sample provided by D. Scully.

Mulder, Fox W.    Probability of Paternity = 99.99%"

Underneath this conclusion was a specific breakdown of the DNA test, containing letters and percentages he didn't understand.

He kept staring at the quoted 99.99%. Mulder didn't know whether to laugh or cry, or maybe vomit. He stood up from the chair, excited, wanting to see Scully. He had so many questions he wanted to ask her. But then remembered where he was and why. Anxiety overwhelmed him once again, and a sense of dread sank in his gut like a lead weight, as he sat back down in the chair, fearing the worst.

At 3:00 pm, Mulder walked out of the waiting room, having been looking forward to the shift change so he could get past that dictator of a nurse, and quickly went through the double doors. He’d made it to Scully’s room, his fingers on the door handle, when a stern voice interrupted him.

“Oh, my word, not you again,” the familiar and unwelcome voice of the ER nurse called out. “I thought we already established that you are not immediate family of the patient.”

“I’m her emergency contact, ma’am,” Mulder firmly told her.

She shot him a sarcastic eyebrow. “Funny, you don’t look like a Margaret Scully to me. Now get back out to the waiting room where you belong. I don’t want any trouble.”

He sighed. Shit. Scully must’ve changed it. Just another kick in the gut to remind him of just how much had changed while he’d been gone. He momentarily wondered why Mrs. Scully hadn’t shown up yet. His mood plummeting, Mulder walked away from Scully’s door, and back through the double doors. Once outside, he sighed and leaned back against the wall of the corridor, bracing himself against the onslaught of emotions raging inside.

Two hours later, he got another phone call from that Agent Reyes, asking him to meet her at headquarters. He figured he wasn’t going to get past the Nurse Nazi anytime soon, at least until the night shift came on, and he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to drive over to the Hoover Building and find out what was so important from this Agent Reyes.

Fifteen minutes later, Mulder was walking through the staff entrance of FBI headquarters and not long after that he entered one of the rooms on the second floor used to store hard copies of past case files. He greeted Agent Reyes and they shook hands.

“You're taller than I thought,” said Monica.

“You keep on alluding to a time that we've met and I don't remember,” he replied.

Monica pursed her lips, understanding his confusion. “I was there when they found you in the woods. You were…” She paused.

Mulder nodded. Yeah, yeah. He was dead. They both smiled very uncomfortably.

“Uh… yeah, I'm not surprised you don't remember,” she said.

“Yeah.” He wanted to drop the chit chat and get down to business. He didn’t have all day here. “Um, I, I have somewhere I have to be… if we could cut to the chase.”

She understood. “As I said before, it involves Agent Doggett… the death his son. I don't know if you're familiar at all with that case.”

He didn’t know anything about that. “No, I'm not at all familiar with Agent Doggett.”

Monica handed him the case file she’d gotten from a box on one of the shelves, and crossed her arms. Mulder opened it to see a smiling picture, probably a school photo, of a young boy with spiky dirty blond hair wearing a brown plaid shirt. He then looked down at the stat sheet.

“Luke John Doggett  
Age at Disappearance: 7  
Date of Birth: 7/9/86  
Date of Last Contact: 8/12/93  
Race: White  
Gender: Male  
Height: 48”  
Weight: 52 lbs.  
Eyes: Blue  
Hair: Blond  
AKA: Unknown  
Missing From: Long Island, NY  
Child is suspected to have been kidnapped.”

Mulder scanned the information, and then looked at an accompanying picture, a crime scene photo of Luke Doggett lying dead, face down on the ground. He felt nothing but sympathy for such an awful loss. “I… I wasn't aware of this,” he spoke sadly. “You were the lead investigator?”

He listened as Agent Reyes went on to discuss more details of the case, the phenomena of a vision she’d had, a connection to a current case she was working in New Orleans. Mulder looked back down at the photo of the smiling boy and thought of his own son, currently in the hospital with Scully. What would he do if he ever lost them? And Mulder finally admitted it to himself, finally said the words. _I have a son._

He looked up from the file at Agent Reyes, with an expression of intensity. “What do you need me to do?”

*****

At 9:00 on Sunday evening, Mulder returned to the Washington Medical Center and planted himself in the waiting room. Ten minutes later, Agent Doggett was escorted to the waiting room by the Nurse Nazi, where she proceeded to tell both him and Mulder that they ‘needed to stay in their area.’ Once again, Mulder felt prevented from informing this nurse of his rightful place with Scully by the presence of Doggett.

“Look, fellas,” she said patiently. “Dr. Scully is stabilized, and she’s doing okay right now. Why don’t you two just let her rest?”

Mulder watched the nurse turn around and leave, walking back down the corridor. Doggett turned to look at him, not wanting to talk about Luke or connections or Monica’s damn visions, and after a brief hardened stare, he walked off, leaving Mulder in the waiting room alone. He felt relieved Doggett didn’t stick around, as he didn’t feel much like getting slammed against another wall. It would most likely get them banned from the hospital, for one, and then he’d never get to see Scully.

At 11:10 pm, as the hospital was in the midst of shift change, Mulder hurriedly snuck off to Scully’s hospital room, quietly letting himself inside. She was asleep, and he went over to sit in the chair against the wall. She lay on her back, and her hand was protectively wrapped around her belly. She was hooked up to an IV, she had one of those oxygen things in her nose, and a monitor thing on her finger. He wished he could actually remember all the medical jargon that Scully could spout off the top of her head without a second thought.

As he watched her sleeping, Mulder felt fear grip him harder than ever. He crossed his arms in front of him, feeling a worrying ache deep in his chest. He tried to reassure himself that Scully was okay, that the baby was okay. But then why would she still be in the hospital nearly 12 hours later? He wished he knew what was going on.

He not only felt fear for their safety, but that other deep-rooted fear also returned. Krycek’s words started playing in his mind, louder than ever before. But why should Mulder believe anything that asshole ever had to say? But then what were his motives? Why had he said and done the things he did? Was the baby in danger? And what of the future? Was Mulder still in danger? Was there a chance he could be taken, abducted again? What kind of father would that make him? And why would Scully even want him, FBI crackpot, and now alien abductee and former dead person, to raise her kid? There were so many more risks, more fears, and more uncertainties when a child was involved.

Mulder didn’t know how, but he eventually fell asleep in the chair. He’d wanted to sit close to the bed, hold Scully’s hand, but he felt afraid to touch her. He tried to tell himself that he just didn’t want to wake her up. But he still felt scared. Scared to touch her, scared to insert himself into the place in her life he’d once held. Scared of what she might want from him, scared of what she might not want from him.

He woke up just before 5:00 am on Monday morning, and saw that Scully was still sleeping. Mulder reasoned that he should get the hell outta there before he had another run in with the nursing staff, and quietly left the room. Once he’d returned to Scully’s apartment, he planned on crashing on the bed in the guest room for a couple more hours. But after placing her medical records back in the desk drawer in the living room, he glanced over at the book shelf. His eyes focused on that book Scully claimed Diana Fowley had sent her, to help her, when he’d been taken to that DoD facility. _Native American Beliefs and Practices._ Mulder then remembered what Absalom had said to him in that West Virginia prison.

_“The Anasazi. They were especially aware.”_

As Mulder approached the bookcase, he glanced over the shelf of VHS tapes, scanning the movie titles. He then zeroed in on a cassette labeled ‘Ultrasound 11/2/00’ and his heart started pounding. The book now completely pushed from his mind, he grabbed the VHS tape and walked over to the TV. After taking a deep breath, he crouched down and inserted the tape into the VCR player.

A black and white image of a small figure filled up the television screen. Hands. Feet. Elbows. Knees. Face. His son. Mulder sat back on the couch, gazing at the TV, mesmerized. His heart swelled. The images of Luke Doggett then came forward in his mind, the information he’d read in the file of the boy’s kidnapping, abuse, and murder. Mulder abruptly stood up from the couch and hurriedly left the living room, going to shower and dress for work. Forty-five minutes later, he was sitting at his old desk in the basement office, going through files that might possibly contain the connection Agent Reyes had been speaking of.

Later that day, Mulder unwittingly found himself at a crime scene in Spartanburg, South Carolina with Agent Reyes. Soon after Agent Doggett showed up, and then it was a real party. He stood by as Reyes and Doggett argued, hashing out visions and connections. Whatever. Mulder couldn’t seem to get interested. He honestly couldn’t be bothered. He hadn’t talked to Scully since Sunday afternoon before the ambulance had carted her off to the hospital, and he was anxious to see her. Mulder wasn’t about to stick around for whatever Agents Reyes and Doggett were going to do, and he left the crime scene for the airport.

Unable to get a flight back to DC until 6:30 pm, Mulder had left Charlestown in a miserable mood, cursing both Doggett and that Agent Reyes. While waiting at the airport, he’d called the Washington Medical Center for an update on Scully, but since he’d been told that he was not on her HIPAA release list, they couldn’t tell him anything about her. At 8:00, his flight landed at Washington Dulles airport, and 35 minutes later, he arrived at Washington Medical Center.

Mulder quietly opened the door to Scully’s room, and softly called to her. “You awake?”

She opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him. “Yeah.”

He closed the door before walking over to the bed, glancing down at her hands resting on her abdomen. “What did the doctor say?”

“That I had a partial abruption,” Scully replied. “Which means that my placenta started to tear away from the uterine wall. They're going to need to monitor me for a while.”

Mulder gave her a small smile, feeling some relief that she didn’t seem worried, or frightened. He still needed some reassurance, though, that he wasn’t going to lose her, or the baby. “But you're going to be fine?”

Scully gave him a smile, and sighed. She still felt sleepy, and medicated. “Yeah.”

As he looked down at her, a colorful glow seemed to emanate from within her, all around her. Everything changed, and he was no longer afraid. Mulder reached out to caress her, the thin hospital gown the only barrier between his hand and her flesh, and he rested his hand on her swollen belly for a moment. Almost immediately he felt the life within her, the baby kicking hard at his hand. He looked at Scully, feeling amazed, and she saw his expression was one of wonder, awe, and joy.

She beamed at Mulder, pleasant butterflies filling her stomach. She loved him so much. “Where have you been?”

Almost reluctantly, he slid his hand off her stomach. “I've actually been out in the field with Agent Doggett and this, um, female agent from New Orleans.”

“Agent Reyes,” stated Scully.

“Yeah.”

She smiled. “I like her.”

He laughed, scoffing a little. “Yeah. You're nothing at all alike.”

“Well then, neither are you and I,” Scully said to him.

Mulder stared at her. He and Scully weren’t all that similar, he knew, but that had been a good thing. He didn’t think he would’ve lasted very long, or had as nearly as much success if he’d been partnered with someone who was just as much a fervent believer as him. He’d needed someone wholly different from himself. He’d needed Scully.

“So this is a case you're working on?” she asked him.

“Yeah. Actually, one that involves Agent Doggett's son, the son who died.”

Scully nodded, her eyelids becoming heavy as she was getting sleepy again. “Yeah, he's rarely ever talked to me about him, but I know something. Are you able to help him at all?”

He sighed. “You can't help a man who can't help himself.”

“He's worth the effort, Mulder.” She knew he didn’t know Doggett like she did, that he felt pushed out of the X-Files, out of a partnership with her. But none of those things were Agent Doggett’s doing, and after all that he’d done for her, he deserved everything she and Mulder could do for him.

He met her gaze, considering what she said, and then wanted to talk about something else. “You know, I’ve gone through hell and high water just to get past these damn nurses to see you. I think it’s about time you put me down as ‘next of kin.’”

Scully snorted, barely able to keep her eyes open. “Okay, Mulder.” And then she was asleep.

*****

At 10:00 on Tuesday morning, November 14th, Dr. Bajaj entered Scully’s room and greeted her and Mulder. “So this is the Miracle Man we’ve heard so much about,” she said, giving him an amused, appraising look.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he muttered. He leaned back in the chair against the wall, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Scully smirked at him, and then looked at her doctor. “Any news?”

Dr. Bajaj glanced down at the clipboard in her hand, and sighed. “Yes. You’re free to go home. You’re doing good. Your baby is doing good. He’s getting plenty of oxygen, the blood flow is healthy. There aren’t any problems.”

“Really?” replied Scully, surprised.

“Yes, really,” Dr. Bajaj said. “I don’t know how to explain it, but we don’t need to do anything. Typically a placental abruption means we have to deliver the baby right away, usually by means of an emergency C-section, and even with a partial abruption there is still great risk to the baby. Now, your due date is still almost eight weeks out. And that’s earlier than I like to deliver. Of course, we always have to weigh the risks between the abruption worsening and premature birth.”

Mulder felt confused. If there were such serious risks, why was Scully okay to go home? “She doesn’t have to deliver? The abruption won’t get worse?”

Scully looked at him, and then at the doctor.

“There is no longer any abruption,” Dr. Bajaj said. “The partial abruption has healed, and your placenta has reattached itself to your uterus. It looks a lot like there was never any abruption at all.”

“But there was,” stated Scully. “Do I need to be put on bed rest or anything? Take any precautions?”

The doctor sighed. “Like I said, I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve never seen that before. Anyways, you’re free to go home. We’ll be discharging you shortly. You’re in perfect health, Dr. Scully. You can go back to doing everything you’ve been doing. I don’t think there’s anything for you to worry about. I’ll see you at your next appointment in a couple weeks.”

Dr. Bajaj then left the room, leaving behind a dumbfounded Scully and an anxious Mulder, the last conversation he’d had with Krycek running through his mind once again.

Later that night, once they’d returned home to Scully’s apartment, Mulder went out and brought back a pizza for their dinner. She was sitting on the couch, the pizza box in front of her on the coffee table, as he came out of the kitchen carrying two plates and silverware, hiding the present on the table behind the couch.

“Mulder, you never fail to surprise me. I just wish I felt like eating it right now.”

“That's cool,” he said. “We can just wait for the cheese to congeal and eat it later.”

He sat down beside her and set the two plates on the table next to the open pizza box. He’d gotten their favorite, making sure not to skimp on the toppings. Scully thought of their moment in the hospital, of Mulder caressing her belly and feeling the baby kick. She wondered what had brought on his sudden acknowledgment of her pregnancy in a way that wasn’t a joke about paternity questions or the whereabouts of his basketball.

Mulder, noticing her wistful expression, crumpled his face in mock depression. “You miss your regular pizza man, don't you?”

Scully pretended to pout. “Yes.”

He hung his head dramatically over his phony heartbreak.

“That's okay. He's coming by later.”

Mulder looked at her a moment, just insecure enough to wonder. He had been gone a long time, and she’d made no indication that she wanted their physical relationship to resume. She then smiled at him warmly, teasing, and he smiled in return as she laughed.

From the table behind the couch, Mulder reached back and produced the gift he’d brought earlier before she’d gone to the hospital. “I bet you forgot about that, didn't you?”

“No, I didn't, actually,” she replied. “I thought about it a lot while I was lying in my hospital bed, wondering what on earth you could have given me.” She started opening the package.

“And?” he asked expectantly.

Having gotten past the wrapping paper and opening the box, her eyes widened in delight at the old-fashioned, homemade rag doll. “Oh, my God. Oh, Mulder.”

He felt butterflies flood his stomach. “Is it what you imagined?”

“Not even close,” she laughed. She’d expected books or… she honestly hadn’t even known what to expect, a wrapped present being so unexpected in the first place.

Mulder leaned over and looked at the doll's embroidered face. “Oh, my, that's the wrong doll, actually.”

She immediately made as if to hit him with the doll, and they laughed. Scully then remembered her conversation with Doggett in the hospital. “But then that's the other gift that you gave me, Mulder.”

He looked at her questioningly, wondering if she was going to talk to him about the baby finally. Scully looked back at him fondly. “Courage… to believe. And I hope that's a gift I can pass on.”

Mulder glanced down at her belly, wondering if there was a chance she wanted to include him in that scenario, in her child’s life, and then he looked up at her. They smiled at each other. She then gently stroked the doll's face, feeling genuinely touched over such a personal gift.

That evening, Mulder and Scully sat close together on the couch, watching television. Eventually she fell asleep after leaning her head against him, his arm lifting to wrap around her shoulder, holding her tightly.


	90. “Well… when he, uh, gets old enough, you tell the kid I went down swinging."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Mulder becomes convinced that an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico is carrying the black virus, he heads out to investigate, unbeknownst to Scully, butting into Doggett's assignment. Upon Mulder's return home, he finds Scully has reached her breaking point.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog of the episode "Vienen" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Steve Maeda, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> Sidenote #1: There's a great blooper from this episode during one of the scenes when Mulder and Doggett are walking around the oil rig. While delivering his lines, Robert Patrick calls David Duchovny "Agent Scully." Duchovny amusingly shouts, "I'M MULDER!" And Robert Patrick replies, "What the fuck did I say?" I actually would've loved a Season 9 filled with Mulder and Doggett running around investigating weird shit while Scully did autopsies at Quantico, taught classes at the Academy, and played with her sweet AlienMiracleBaby.
> 
> Sidenote #2: I'm awfully rusty with the sex scenes. It's been a while. So, you know, please be forgiving if it's not what you expected lol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ed Sheeran – “Give Me Love”
> 
> Give me love like her  
> 'Cause lately I've been waking up alone  
> Paint splattered teardrops on my shirt  
> Told you I'd let them go
> 
> And that I'll fight my corner  
> Maybe tonight I'll call ya  
> After my blood turns into alcohol  
> No, I just wanna hold ya
> 
> Give a little time to me or burn this out  
> We'll play hide and seek to turn this around  
> All I want is the taste that your lips allow  
> My, my, my, my, oh give me love  
> My, my, my, my, give me love
> 
> Give me love like never before  
> 'Cause lately I've been craving more  
> And it's been a while but I still feel the same  
> Maybe I should let you go
> 
> You know I'll fight my corner  
> And that tonight I'll call ya  
> After my blood is drowning in alcohol  
> No, I just wanna hold ya
> 
> Give a little time to me or burn this out  
> We'll play hide and seek to turn this around  
> All I want is the taste that your lips allow  
> My, my, my, my, oh give me love
> 
> Give a little time to me or burn this out  
> We'll play hide and seek to turn this around  
> All I want is the taste that your lips allow  
> My, my, my, my, oh give me love
> 
> M-my my, m-my my, m-my my, give me love, lover
> 
> M-my my, m-my my, m-my my, give me love, lover (love me, love me, love me)  
> M-my my, m-my my, m-my my, give me love, lover (give me love)  
> M-my my, m-my my, m-my my, give me love, lover (give me love, love me)  
> M-my my, m-my my, m-my my, give me love, lover (give me love)
> 
> My, my, my, my, oh give me love

At 8:00 pm on Thursday night, November 16th, Mulder had just changed the television channel over to NBC as _Friends_ was starting, and Scully walked into the living room. He watched her walk across the room, making for the couch, before sitting down next to him. She’d just come out of the shower, her damp hair falling just above her shoulders. She was wearing his favorite Knicks shirt, stretched thin and faded with age. Mulder gazed at the perfect roundness of her belly, and smiled.

“So that’s where my t-shirt went,” he deadpanned.

“Oh yeah,” she said with realization, looking down at herself. “I may have taken a few things.”

Mulder gave her a sarcastic look. “Did I give you permission to take my Knicks shirt?”

With a rising eyebrow, Scully smirked at him. “Yes. In your will.”

“Right. I was dead. I keep forgetting.” He leaned back against the couch, looking from her to the television.

She giggled. “How does one forget something like that?”

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, grinning as he watched Ross Geller complain about people hooking up in a library where he was trying to study. “Well, I don’t think about it all the time, or all that much, really.”

“So what do you think about?” asked Scully, moving her hands to rest on her belly.

“Um…,” Mulder turned to look at her and their eyes met. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, words he’d been choking back for weeks, and even at this moment they were still stuck somewhere in the back of his throat.

But instead of speaking, Mulder reached out and brushed a strand of damp hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear, Scully’s eyes never leaving his. Butterflies filled her stomach, and her heart started pounding. He then brought his hand to her belly, and almost immediately the baby inside began to kick at him. Mulder looked back up into Scully’s face, excitement written all over him, and she smiled. His gaze then went back to her belly and he started to slowly rub his hand from one side of her abdomen to the other, his son’s movements following the line he made, not letting up as Mulder’s hand moved across the swell of her belly. He felt tempted to slide his hand under the shirt to feel her skin, and as his mind drifted to an image of sliding his hand even higher to grope Scully’s full breasts, he felt a rush of blood to his groin and abruptly removed his hand from her abdomen.

For the rest of the evening, Mulder kept his hands in his lap, resolutely keeping his attention on the TV in an effort to push back the explicit images and sounds filling his mind, intimate memories of Scully that seemed from almost another life. With a sinking sense of disappointment, she remained on the couch next to him, wishing he would touch her, feeling as though he’d been on the verge of saying something she wanted to hear, or doing something she desperately needed him to.

On Friday morning, Scully was standing with her back against the counter, sipping her herbal mint tea, when Mulder walked into the kitchen. He was only half dressed; wearing his charcoal suit pants and black socks, but nothing covered his torso.

"Good morning," he said as he walked over to the bread bin.

"Morning," she replied, watching him take two slices of wheat bread and drop them into the toaster. That awful scar on his chest was no longer visible, along with the other scars that had resulted from his abduction ordeal. Mulder had healed perfectly, his body no longer showing any signs of his past injuries. Even former scars, like the one on his left shoulder from a bullet she'd fired at him years before, weren’t there anymore. He looked good.

As she stood there, holding the mug up to her mouth, her eyes roaming over his neck, shoulders, chest, abdomen, arms, and hands, Scully felt something awaken inside her that had been suppressed for quite some time, something that had been starting to make an appearance over the past couple weeks: her libido. When Mulder had gone missing in the latter half of her first trimester, her anxiety over his abduction along with her morning sickness and fatigue made sexual thoughts and desires nonexistent. The grief and mild depression she'd suffered throughout her second trimester further suppressed these feelings. But she gradually felt her energy returning with her third trimester, like getting a second wind, along with an abundance of hormones and increasing blood flow to her more sensitive body parts.

"Scully?" said Mulder.

"Huh?" she replied, her eyes tearing away from his bicep to look up at his face.

He gave her a puzzled look. "You okay?"

She swallowed, and then nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You seemed kinda dazed," he said.

"Uh... I guess I'm still kind of tired. I can't wait until I can drink coffee again." Scully then looked away from him, trying to discreetly rub her thighs together beneath her skirt in an effort to relieve the sudden tingling sensations between her legs.

Mulder snorted, and started to butter his toast. "You wanna ride to work together… unless you don't want to go in so early? I can get a taxi."

She smiled, and took one last gulp of her tea. "Yeah, I'd like to ride together. I'm ready whenever you are."

He returned her smile, and quickly ate his breakfast. Mulder then walked out of the kitchen to the hallway, heading towards the guest bedroom to finish getting dressed. Scully stared after him as he walked away, gazing at the muscles in his strong upper back, doing nothing to help dissipate the growing sensations at her center.

Thirty minutes later, Mulder and Scully arrived at FBI headquarters and received quite a few stares as they made their way through the employee entrance. They were well aware of the talk that had started up since he returned to work, since it became known that his new legal address was the same as Scully's. The longer they went without renewing their FBI partnership, the longer they remained separated in different departments, the more a certain rumor abounded that they had gotten secretly married. Others dismissed this and claimed Scully remained with Doggett because she was continuing the affair that had started up in Mulder's absence. Now that he was in the bullpen, Mulder heard more whispered speculation and rumormongering than ever before. He tried his best to block it all out, especially the talk about Scully and Doggett, but most of the time the nature of the bullpen made this impossible.

Just before 8:00 am, Mulder and Scully entered the basement office, and soon after were sitting at her desk, checking emails and messages on the voicemail. At 8:30 the phone rang, and she picked up the receiver while Mulder stood at the filing cabinet.

"Scully."

“Agent Scully, it’s AD Skinner.”

“Good morning, sir.”

He sighed. “Deputy Director Kersh would like to see you and Agent Doggett in his office right away.”

She shot Mulder an uneasy glance. “Agent Doggett hasn’t arrived yet.”

“Yes, I know,” Skinner said. “I just got off the phone with him. He’s stuck in traffic.”

“What’s this about?” Scully asked.

“I think Kersh is the one to explain that,” replied Skinner. “Just get up here as soon as you can.”

She sighed. “I’m on my way.” Scully then hung up the phone as Mulder turned to look at her. “I’ve been called up to Kersh’s office. Pray for me.”

They smirked at each other before she walked out of the office, closing the door behind her.

*****

At 8:57 am, the door to the basement office opened while Mulder stood in the corner in front of the filing cabinet, looking through some papers, a voice interrupting his train of thought.

“Am I interrupting anything, Agent Mulder?” asked Doggett.

Mulder looked up to notice him, and then looked back down at the papers in his hand. “Nothing you'd be too terribly interested in, Agent Doggett.”

Doggett wondered just how much his patience was going to be tested today. “Agent Mulder. What are you doing down here?”

“Looking into the recent death of an oil worker,” he replied, handing Doggett the case file.

“I got a heads up from you a couple of days ago,” Agent Doggett said.

Mulder nodded. “That's what I'm doing here.”

Doggett wished the guy would just accept their current situation. “Agent Mulder, I understand you have more than just a proprietary interest in these cases, but I can't help it if you're not assigned to this unit anymore.” He paused, Mulder staring back at him, before walking over to his desk, setting the file down. “I didn't see any reason to pursue this oil worker case.”

“Well maybe you missed the fact that this victim's corpse washed ashore in Port Aransas, Texas with massive flash burns on 90% of his body,” he emphatically replied.

“I read the report Agent Mulder, if you're insinuating I didn't.” Doggett wasn’t sure which was worse: Kersh blowing smoke up his ass with false praise, or Mulder frequently implying that he was completely inept.

Mulder was starting to feel frustrated he had to spell it out. “Then you must also know that this man was not the only man to disappear from the Galpex-Orpheus platform that night, but one of two men. The communications officer is also missing.”

Doggett didn’t see how that warranted an X-Files investigation. “The company attributes that to an explosion on the rig, a blowout. Which is what they say caused Simon de la Cruz his burns.”

“Burns the M.E. said in his report were not inconsistent to exposure to high levels of radiation,” Mulder stated, however Doggett didn’t see that as anything worth their attention, and so he pointed to the X-Files cases he’d pulled from the cabinets. “These files include the same kind of radiation phenomenon. Tissue destroyed by exposure to…”

“Black oil,” said Doggett, interrupting, his tone turning slightly amused. “Five years ago, you and Agent Scully investigated a case of a World War Two plane salvaged from the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, where a substance was brought to the surface which you describe as a highly contagious virus of extra-terrestrial origin. That has radioactive properties and can take over a man's body. And it's part of an alien conspiracy to colonize the planet, if I'm not mistaken.”

Mulder saw the expression of ridicule on his face, and smiled sarcastically. “And you'd love to help, but you left your light saber at home.”

Doggett nodded, rolling his eyes.

“How'd you get stuck down here, Agent Doggett?” asked Mulder. “Kersh catch you peeing in his cornflakes?”

The office filled with an uncomfortable silence. The phone then started ringing, and both men reached to answer it. They looked at each other. Mulder picked up the phone, pausing, but then gave it to Agent Doggett to answer.

He took the receiver from Mulder. “John Doggett.”

“The Deputy Director is waiting, Agent Doggett,” Scully said quietly. She’d gotten an earful of Kersh’s ire when she’d told him she was unaware of what her partner was doing with regards an X-Files investigation. A conversation she’d had many times before in this building, except Doggett had never been the partner in question.

“Yeah, I was just on my way up,” he replied.

She turned so that her back was to the desk, lowering her voice even more. “Why didn't you tell me you were pursuing the Texas oil worker case?”

Doggett was immediately suspicious about what was behind this meeting with Kersh. “Because I'm not.”

“Well there's an executive here from the oil company who says he was contacted by a man in our office,” Scully told him.

He looked over at the former occupant of the basement office, and current pain in his ass. “That'd be Agent Mulder.”

That didn’t make sense. Mulder hadn’t said a word to her about the Galpex oil case. “What are you talking about?”

“I'm gonna let him answer that,” replied Doggett, still staring at Mulder, and then hung up the phone. “You and me got a date in the Deputy Director’s office.”

He then turned to walk out the door, holding it open as Mulder briefly paused before walking out to the hallway, Doggett closing and locking the door. Less than five minutes later, they were walking into Kersh’s office. Scully turned to look at Mulder as he approached her, smiling warmly at her.

“Just like old times,” he said to her.

Kersh sat as his desk, looking away from Mulder and staring forwards. “Now it's all making sense.”

Skinner, who was sitting opposite Kersh, looked up at Mulder, unamused, and then back down at his lap. Scully gave him a blank stare, her disapproval written all over her. She was nearly eight months pregnant, and she had zero patience for once again getting chewed out because of Mulder. When was he going to stop keeping things from her? When was he going to stop being so reckless? When was this shit going to end? When was he going to grow up?

“Tough crowd,” said Mulder, giving her the side eye as she silently walked away from him to sit down in one of the chairs against the wall.

Kersh stood up at his desk, introducing Mulder to the Vice President of Operations for Galpex Petroleum out of Galveston, Texas, a Mr. Manuel Ortega. Mulder then explained that it was him who contacted Mr. Ortega as well as contacted government officials in Capitol Hill about the incident out on the rig. He calmly stated he acted in the best interests of the FBI and Galpex Oil, but Kersh wasn’t buying it. Ortega needed to protect US interests in the oil field in the Gulf of Mexico, hoping to prevent the Mexican government from claiming the field as theirs. Mulder tried to explain that the incident on board the rig had nothing to do with territorial disputes, but the unexplained death of Simon de la Cruz. However, Ortega seemed to think bringing attention to the death of a Mexican national working for a US business could give the country of Mexico leverage to get Galpex oil to abandon the Orpheus rig.

“Leaving me no choice now but to conduct a criminal investigation,” stated Kersh. “Quickly and quietly, to take away any legal position that would affect American interests.”

“A criminal investigation isn't going to clear up anything,” Mulder said.

Kersh looked at him coldly. “You've done more than enough Agent Mulder, thank you.”

Mulder felt frustrated that everyone seemed to be missing the point. “I don't think you know exactly what you're dealing with here, sir.”

“No, I think I do, agent.” Kersh stared at him, hard.

“This is an X-file,” said Mulder firmly, refusing to back down.

Kersh almost smirked. “And I'm sending someone from the X-Files to investigate.”

Like hell was Mulder ever going to allow the FBI to send Scully to that black-virus-infested rig in the Gulf of Mexico. Over his damn body. “You're talking about an oil rig that's 150 miles out at sea. You can’t send a pregnant woman.”

“I'm not sending Agent Scully,” Kersh said calmly.

Mulder paused, staring at him, before realization caused him to turn and glance at Agent Doggett, rolling his eyes.

*****

Scully and Mulder spent a tense Friday evening at her apartment, arguing over his insubordinate actions, but eventually he was able to convince her to at least do the autopsy on Simon de la Cruz after telling her he had the body sent to Quantico. When Scully awoke at 7:45 on Saturday morning, November 18th, to a phone call from a lab technician at Quantico informing her that the body was now available for whenever she was ready to come down, she discovered that Mulder had already gone out. She’d sighed, assuming he was going to spend another Saturday holed up in the basement office, still unable and unwilling to let go of the X-Files, despite his reassignment and her confession that the time was coming shortly when she’d be walking away herself.

She arrived at Quantico just before 10:30 am, and was soon after donned in scrubs and white lab coat, ready to perform the autopsy. Almost two hours later, what she found made her get on the phone and call Skinner, asking him to come see her right away. She feared for Agent Doggett’s safety as well as the other two dozen men on board that rig.

In the third ventricle of Simon de la Cruz’s brain, she found the black virus. It had entered his system and amassed in the pineal gland, but it was clearly dead. She hadn’t exactly been able to figure out what killed it, but it was proof the virus could be loose on the rig. She wanted Skinner to tell Kersh that he needed to order an immediate evacuation but when he arrived at Quantico at 1:00 pm, he was reluctant to take this information to the Deputy Director.

At 4:05 pm, Scully was finally able to make contact with the oil rig while she was looking at some scans on an X-ray light box. “Orpheus? I've been trying to reach you for hours. This is Special Agent Dana Scully. I have an urgent message for an investigative agent on board, an Agent John Doggett."

“I'm ready to take that message,” said the communications officer.

“No, I'm sorry, I need to speak with Agent Doggett directly.”

Suddenly a different voice spoke over the line. “Well, I'm sorry, Agent Doggett's gone fishing. Can I take a message, please?”

No. Oh, please no. “Mulder?” Her voice was ripe with surprise, but her shock quickly faded. But of course. Of fucking course.

“I was just in the neighborhood,” he said.

“Mulder, you can't just flout orders like this,” Scully chastised him. “It's not like old times. Kersh isn't going to tolerate this.”

He wasn’t all that concerned. “Kersh doesn't need to know.”

She’d felt worried for Agent Doggett, knowing he was on board, but now anxiety flooded her stomach. When was Mulder going to stop putting himself in these life-threatening situations? Fear and frustration battled it out in her mind. “Mulder…”

“You need me out here, Scully. You know that better than anyone.”

“I'd hate to say as of this morning I'd have to agree.” There was no way Kersh was going to evacuate that rig. And she suspected Agent Doggett wouldn’t either, wouldn’t take the black virus seriously. Those men on that rig did need Mulder out there.

Mulder’s eyes widened. She’d resisted doing the autopsy, knowing the government was supposed to hand over the body of Simon de la Cruz as soon as possible. “Who's flouting orders? You found something, didn't you, in that victim's body? The virus?”

Scully sighed. “Yes, I did, and it's dead, Mulder.”

“Dead? What killed it?”

“Possibly radiation,” she replied.

Mulder shook his head. “No, that's not possible.”

Scully turned to walk away from the light box, heading back to the steel gurney which held the body. “I know, I know, and this could be an isolated event, but that he's infected at all means that everybody out there could be at risk. And that means you and Agent Doggett.”

“We’ve got to quarantine this rig,” he said firmly.

“No, Mulder, you need to get off the rig,” she replied. “Have Agent Doggett give the order. We can quarantine you and the crew when you get back here.”

He was starting to get a good idea of what was happening out there. “Scully, if these men are infected the last place we want them is on shore where they can infect other people. You're sitting on the answer right there, Scully. The body… you find the virus, you can find what knocks it out, you can find what kills it.”

Her stomach knotted with anxiety even more, doubt creeping in. “And what if I can't?”

“Well… when he, uh, gets old enough, you tell the kid I went down swinging,” Mulder flippantly replied.

She scoffed in exasperation. What the hell did he just say to her? “Let me talk to Agent Doggett.” It was too much of a risk, she needed to get them off that rig.

Mulder knew she was about to override him. “Agent Doggett's not here right now.”

And then the line went dead. Scully pulled the cordless phone from her ear, staring at it, wondering if those were the last words she’d ever hear Mulder say.

Just before the clock struck 9:00 on Saturday night, Scully was pacing one of the lab offices at Quantico, worried sick, when a phone call came in from the Coast Guard base in Galveston, Texas. One of their chopper pilots had reported that the oil rig was engulfed in flames after observing several explosions. Fear sunk its teeth into her heart, and she prayed that the chopper would reach them in time, that both Agent Doggett and Mulder would make it out alive.

How much longer was she going to have to go through this? Would she ever know what it was like to have a life that was free from the fear of losing Mulder? She'd just gotten him back, and after weeks of awkward frustration, their relationship seemed to be moving in a positive direction. What if he'd been infected with the virus? What if he'd been harmed in some other way, or fallen victim to the oil rig's fiery explosions? What if she never saw him again? Never heard his voice, or felt his touch? What if she has to bury him again? How could she ever endure it? And if Mulder somehow made it out alive, how long until he runs off and she's forced to go through this over and over? How could he continue to put her through hell? And what of her son? Could she let Mulder put him through the same hell?

Fighting back tears, she reached for the phone as it rung again, her stomach knotting in fear.

"Agent Scully?"

"Yes, speaking," she said, praying that she wasn't about to receive devastating news.

"This is USCG Galveston," spoke the operator. "We just received contact from Chopper 3. Agents John Doggett and Fox Mulder were taken safely on board and are on their way back to base."

Scully felt sweet, blessed relief. "They'll need to be taken to a hospital right away and checked out."

"Yes, ma'am. Will do."

The operator then signed off, and the line went dead. Scully suddenly felt tears fill her eyes, and unable to hold back the overpowering emotions, she put her hand over her face and cried.

*****

It was almost 9:30 pm on Saturday, November 18th, and Mulder was sitting in a room inside the trauma center of John Sealy Hospital in Galveston, Texas with Agent Doggett, who was currently being treated for a minor concussion caused by getting whacked in the head with a lead pipe. Mulder had some bruises, but other than that, he was in perfect condition. He was also pleased to learn that he’d gained back 10 of the 15 pounds he’d lost during the five months he was gone. However, he wasn’t pleased to learn that Scully had called the hospital ahead of their arrival and instructed them to quarantine Doggett and himself. When he asked for how long, the attending physician replied “maybe 24 hours, maybe less.” At least the doctor hadn’t said ‘maybe more.’

Mulder had called Scully the moment he’d walked through the hospital doors, the Coast Guard chopper having delivered him and Doggett to the roof of the building. She hadn’t answered her cell phone. He then called her home phone. No answer. That wasn’t like her, knowing he’d been out there on that rig and would most likely have important information for her about the case, knowing he’d want to find out if she ever figured out a way to kill the virus. He left a message on her voicemail and on her answering machine. That was half an hour ago, and Mulder still hadn’t heard back from her. His cell phone and FBI badge had gone up in flames with the oil rig, so he couldn’t call her from inside the room.

Several minutes later, an ER physician entered the room to check on Doggett, and Mulder asked him if Scully had called. She hadn’t. He then asked the doctor if he could use one of the public phones in the waiting room, and then had to sit through the doctor’s explanation of what the word ‘quarantine’ means. Mulder glared at the doctor’s departing back, and then turned his steely gaze on Doggett, who was chuckling to himself.

“What’s so funny?”

“You seem kinda worried,” Doggett replied, entwining his hands behind his head as he reclined on the bed, watching college football highlights on the television that was hanging in the upper corner of the room.

Mulder scoffed. “What would I be worried about? Kersh doesn’t scare me. If I played by his rules, lives would be lost.”

Doggett stared at him. “Lives _were_ lost, Agent Mulder. Everyone on that rig died. Besides, I wasn’t referring to Kersh.”

“The black virus was responsible for that,” he replied. “Maybe if the case had been investigated sooner instead of sitting on your desk for days, those lives could’ve been saved.”

“You’re probably right,” said Doggett. “But it’s my prerogative to run the X-Files unit how I see fit. To decide which cases warrant attention or not. I mean, what are you even doing down here?”

Mulder gave him an incredulous look. “Somebody had to come down here. Somebody _qualified_. And it’s not like Scully could go. You knew perfectly well this case was similar to ones we’d investigated before, and you conveniently shelved it.”

Doggett sighed. “Look, I’m not the enemy here. And don’t you have more important things to think about right now than what I’m doing or _not doing_ with the X-Files?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” replied Mulder defensively.

“Did you tell Scully you were going to that oil rig?” Doggett asked, although he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

He crossed his arms and looked up at the TV. “Of course not.”

Silence filled the hospital room, and only the faint sound of the sports reporter could be heard from the television speakers. Mulder turned to see Doggett shaking his head, as if in disbelief.

“What are you implying?” he asked.

“Hey, man, it’s none of my business,” replied Doggett. “But you’re right not to worry too much about Kersh. I’m willing to bet you’ve got bigger problems.”

Mulder didn’t reply and slowly turned from Agent Doggett to look back at the TV, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

Early on Sunday morning, he woke to find that Scully still hadn’t returned his calls. At 2:00 pm, Mulder and Doggett were cleared to leave the hospital with a clean bill of health. Before leaving for the Houston airport, Mulder got on the phone in the waiting room, but Scully didn’t answer. He called her again from the airport, a few minutes before their 4:15 pm flight back to Washington was about to start boarding, but again he got the answering machine. Mulder left a message letting her know his flight would be getting into DC at 8:20, and mentioned that he hoped she’d be there when he landed.

Scully wasn’t there. However, Skinner was. Skinner and his glowering look of disapproval. Mulder sighed, preparing himself for the standard ass chewing.

“That was a very stupid, reckless thing you did, Mulder,” said Skinner. Doggett looked down at his shoes, remaining silent.

“You honestly expected me to do something different?” he shot back. The world around him may have changed in his absence, but he hadn’t. Dangerous things were happening. An invasion was likely starting. Why didn’t everyone understand just how important this was? Just how important it was for the X-Files to have someone who knew what the hell they were doing? Now more than ever? Certainly Captain Clueless over there wasn’t up to the task.

Skinner sighed. He was fairly sure Mulder had new obligations now, but it wasn’t really his place to comment on the personal lives of FBI agents. “I am no longer your supervisory Assistant Director. Decisions regarding you are no longer in my hands. I’ve put my own career on the line because of this stunt of yours. So has Agent Scully. I can only say that it’s about time you started taking responsibility for your actions.”

At the mention of Scully, Mulder was once again reminded that she hadn’t come to the airport to pick him up. He then went and stood outside, staring at the taxicabs lined up on the curb, hoping she was just running late. After Doggett had retrieved his truck from the parking lot, he drove around to the Arrivals doors. Upon sight of Mulder, he thought the man looked like a lost puppy, and sighed. He then pulled up alongside the curb, honking the horn and lowering the passenger side window.

“You need a ride home?” Doggett called out.

Mulder stared at him, sighed in defeat, and then walked over to the truck, opening the door and getting into the passenger seat.

*****

At 9:10 pm, Mulder unlocked the door with his new key and let himself into the apartment, immediately noticing the silence. Everything was quiet. No TV, radio, nothing. He turned to look into the kitchen as he shut the door, seeing Scully standing at the counter with her back to him, wearing black leggings and a heather gray sweater, cleaning. She was mad. He knew she was. But more than that. She was probably fucking pissed, as indicated by the fact she was scrubbing the counter like a lunatic.

He knew she heard him come in, but she’d made no indication that she did, no acknowledgment of his presence. Mulder walked into the kitchen, but only reached so far as the table. He wasn’t ashamed to admit he felt a little afraid. He figured any man with sense would be very frightened of Dana Scully at this moment.

Mulder chewed his bottom lip, bracing himself. “Scully, I’m…”

“Tell. The kid. I went. Down… swinging.” She spoke each word slowly, carefully emphasizing, trying to control her anger. The moment she’d heard the door open, the dread Scully had been trying to suppress had suddenly turned to rage. Rage that was threatening to overwhelm her. What he’d said to her, while irritating at the time they were spoken, had run around in circles in her head over the past 24 hours, ever since she’d learned Mulder had made it off the rig safely. Now they filled her with anger and disappointment.

It took a second for the words to register as something he himself had said, and upon realizing just how that actually sounded, he heaved a sigh, closing his eyes. His nerves were slowly becoming frazzled.

“Scully, you said it yourself,” Mulder said calmly, hoping to reason with her. “It was a good thing I was out there.”

“Yeah, what good did it do?” she demanded, still not turning around to face him. “The rig blew up!”

He crossed his arms defensively. “Well, it served as an eye-opener for that Doggett.”

She sighed. “Doggett was assigned to the investigation, Mulder. He’s a great agent. You had no business going out there!”

“I can’t play by Kersh’s rules, Scully,” he replied heatedly. “How far would we have gotten on the X-Files if we followed every bureaucratic policy?”

“Mulder, you don’t have the X-Files anymore,” Scully said pointedly.

He stared at her, anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach. She still hadn’t even looked at him. “I told you that I needed to find out where I fit in! I need to make sense of my life! I need to feel involved again! That what I’m doing is important!” He paused. “I came back to find my world turned upside down! You obviously don’t understand!”

Scully spun around, anger tightening her expression, a steely glint in her eyes. Without thinking, she grabbed an orange from the basket on the counter next to her and threw it at him. Hard. Mulder’s arms flew up to protect his face and he ducked, the fruit hitting him on his bicep and falling with a thud to the floor.

“Ow!”

“Your world?! I am pregnant! And God only knows how! You were abducted! And then I found you dead! I had to write your obituary! I watched your coffin lower into the fucking ground! _Your_ world?! I’m the size of a planet! Fuck you!”

Mulder stood there during this onslaught, stunned and speechless. He then swallowed. “Scully, is this really good for the baby?”

Her blue eyes squinted at him. “Like you even give a damn about him.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He felt stung, as if she’d thrown another orange at him.

Scully sighed, and willed herself to say what she’d decided to say. She’d avoided his phone calls, and ignored his request to pick him up at the airport, all in an effort to postpone this conversation. But it had to be done. Now was the time. He had obviously made his choice.

“Mulder, I can’t tell you to stop pursuing the X-Files,” she said quietly, trying to calm her emotions. “If you believe that the X-Files is where you fit in, then I have no right to prevent you from living the life you need to. But I can remind you that in three weeks, I’m walking away from the X-Files for good. Feel free to take my spot. Kersh just might allow it, if only to get you out of his hair. And Agent Doggett will need a partner.” She paused, and he stared at her, dread sinking in his stomach like a rock.

“I can’t tell you what to do,” Scully continued. “But I can tell you that if the X-Files is where you fit in, if the X-Files is what you want… then I don’t want you here. I won’t do this anymore. Not to myself. Not to my son. There are things I need to focus on now, things that you obviously want no part in. So… I really think it’s time you found your own place.”

He felt like he’d been kicked in the gut, and he helplessly watched her walk out of the kitchen and disappear behind her bedroom door. He had thought he was protecting her, protecting them. Someone had to fight the evils of this world, to keep them safe. They were the only family he had left. But what good did he really do on that rig? And what kind of purpose could he hope to have by a commitment to his work if he sacrificed what he had with Scully? And now she wanted him to leave. She wanted him out.

Mulder stood there, hands on his hips, breathing heavily, a tidal wave of emotions flooding his insides. Several years ago, something like this would’ve sent him to a bar, where he’d drown his woes with a bottle of tequila. He then walked determinedly towards her bedroom door, swinging it open to find her standing in front of her dresser, tears welling up in her eyes.

But he didn’t stop walking until he reached her, his hands going to her face as she turned towards him in surprise. “You’re not getting rid of me,” Mulder said firmly.

And then his mouth was on hers, and Scully’s eyes initially widened in shock at the unexpected action, before closing as a rush of sensations flooded her nerve endings. The first touch of their lips was an explosion, and like an initial spark turning into a wildfire, an inferno started to build as they passionately devoured each other. They couldn’t stop kissing, and soon Mulder had turned her around and was walking her backwards towards the bed.

They broke to breathe, and Mulder’s lips immediately went to her face and neck, his hands going to the hem of her gray top, quickly lifting it upwards. Before Scully could put enough words together to utter a cohesive sentence, the sweater had gone over her head and onto the floor.

“This is okay, right?” Mulder breathed. “It’s not gonna hurt the baby or anything?”

“No,” Scully gasped, grabbing his navy blue sweater and undershirt and pushing them up to his shoulders, before he took over and removed them.

He sighed in relief. “Oh, thank God.”

She let out a nervous, breathy laugh. Her hands went to his chest, running her fingers over his firm flesh, through the patch of hair, her fingernails grazing over his nipples. Mulder groaned and recaptured her lips. The press of her lips was soft, her palms flat against his chest, but then she slid her tongue along the roof of his mouth and he was immediately lost in the taste of her.

Before Scully could start to feel self-conscious about her less-than-sexy maternity bra, Mulder’s hands had gone to her back to undo the hooks, and the bra was unceremoniously tossed to the floor a moment later. He then pulled out of the kiss, and looked down at her, before turning them around and sitting on the edge of the bed.

Mulder gazed at her standing in front of him, his eyes roaming over her ivory skin, flushed pink, her round, full breasts, and swollen abdomen. His hand reached out to caress her belly, and he smiled up at her. “You’re so hot, Scully.”

She snorted, chuckling nervously. “Right.”

“I meant your skin,” he said quietly, grinning at her. “It’s so warm.”

Scully was breathing heavily, wetness pooling at her center, as he smoothed his palm over her abdomen. In the months he’d been gone, she’d never allowed herself to think about how much she missed this. She missed him every moment of every day, but she never allowed her mind to think about this. About the feel of his body, the way he kissed her, the way he touched her.

“Wow,” said Mulder, looking up at her in awe. “You really are pregnant.”

“No kidding,” she muttered, starting to feel self-conscious. Scully was trying hard not to think of the last time he had seen her naked, and how different her body had looked then.

He smirked, and then his fingers went to the waistband of her black leggings, hooking his thumbs against her flesh, and pulled down, taking the white cotton panties down with them. Scully stepped out of the remainder of her clothes, and then stood in front of Mulder completely naked, while he still sat on the bed wearing his jeans.

Mulder sighed contentedly, his hands reaching out to caress her belly again, her arms, her hips, thighs, and moving back to palm her ass. “Look at you,” he whispered reverently. “Wow.”

“It’s a complete turnoff, isn’t it?” Scully said. Her skin was enflamed, her center was swollen and wet, her clit ached. She felt more turned on than ever before and the thought of not having sex right now was enough to make crushing disappointment begin to well up inside her.

“What are you talking about?” he replied, giving her a puzzled look. “You’re beautiful.”

She sighed. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you want to fuck me like this.”

He stared at her, his eyes darkening, blood rushing to his throbbing groin, and spoke firmly. “Get on the bed, Scully.”

A little whimper escaped her throat, and her eyes nearly rolled at his tone. God, she’d missed this. The way Mulder talked to her like this, his monotone turning even deeper and sexual. More wetness poured out at her center as he stood up, his hands going to her hips to help her onto the bed. Scully then watched Mulder’s hands go to his jeans, undoing the belt and the zipper, pushing them down to the floor and off, taking his socks with them. Her eyes widened at his erect cock protruding from his black boxer briefs, evidence this clearly wasn’t a turn off for him. Scully started breathing even heavier as he removed the boxers and got up on the bed next to her.

He moved up, hovering over her as she lay on her side, and for a long time Mulder’s mouth pressed against Scully’s, kissing her passionately, as his hand caressed the belly between them. She could feel his erection prodding her hip and she groaned against his mouth.

“I can’t wait anymore,” she breathed, breaking the kiss. “I’ve been going crazy for weeks. Please. Now. Now.”

Mulder chuckled, and then his hands moved her slowly, rolling her over until she was lying on her other side, and he was spooned behind her. He started whispering, and she was lost in a fog of arousal, in the feeling of his hands on her skin, in the sound of his voice in her ear.

“So beautiful, Scully,” Mulder breathed, turning his face into the curve of her neck, finding the spot of soft flesh behind her ear, remembering, and pressed his lips to it. Mulder’s hand caressed her belly, ran up her side, before moving to her breasts, rolling her sensitive nipples between his fingers. The sensations sent a rush of heat radiating through her like a spark, and she moaned.

“Beautiful,” he whispered again. His hand left her breasts and went back down her stomach, over her side to her hips, reaching, until the tips of his fingers dipped between her legs, finding her wetness.

“Mulder,” she moaned.

Immediately his hand retreated back to Scully’s belly. “What?”

“No, don’t stop!” she replied urgently.

He chuckled, and his hand returned to her center, his fingers gliding through her wet, swollen folds. “Jesus, Scully,” he groaned. And then Mulder’s mouth was once again on her neck, kissing her soft skin, his tongue darting out to taste her. Soon all their thoughts were replaced with that familiar desperation for release, an unbearable ache that needed relief.

“I’m gonna…,” he muttered in her ear. Scully felt his fingers between her folds, and then sliding to her entrance, sinking into her.

“Now, now,” she whimpered.

Mulder removed his fingers, and she felt his hand at her hips, angling her against him, and then on himself, on his erection pressed against her backside. “I’m gonna…”

“Yes, do it,” pleaded Scully.

He shifted behind her, and then she felt his engorged cock push past her folds, and slide into her cunt, her muscles contracting around him. “Oh, my God.”

“Fuck,” Mulder groaned. She was so wet. And soft. And so unbelievably hot. It was like an oven inside, and she grasped his hard cock like the tightest fist imaginable. He didn’t think he’d last very long.

He started to move slowly, with shallow thrusts, getting into a rhythm. Scully was breathing hard, and gasping.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“I’m more than okay,” she replied. “But harder. Please.”

At first Mulder hesitated, wondering if that was safe for her or the baby. But Scully was the doctor here, and she’d know if it wasn’t. He started moving again, thrusting in harder, gently drawing his cock out, before thrusting deeper each time. She felt like her entire body could feel him, every muscle in her body tensing around him, every nerve ending on fire.

Gaining confidence, Mulder started thrusting faster, and with increasing tension and desperation, she felt his swollen cock slide hard against that sweet spot with each thrust. Scully started whimpering his name and rocking against him, she could feel the tension coiling tighter at her center, she could feel herself on the brink of release.

Mulder’s mouth was by her ear, breathing hard, and then he was moving faster, sparks of pleasure streaking out across his groin, down his thighs and to the pit of his stomach. His teeth went to her shoulder, his hand gripping her belly as the baby started to kick at him, and with the feel of his teeth on her skin, Scully was coming. It was slower and bigger than she remembered, and she spasmed like never before, crying out in pleasure.

“Oh, my God! Mulder!”

Scully had never felt anything like this. She just knew she was having the biggest, most incredible, toe-curling, back-arching, scream-out-loud orgasm she’d ever had in her life. The feeling was everywhere: pulsating from her throbbing clit out to her stomach, down her legs to her toes, up her spine, inside her head. She clamped down on his hard cock like a vise, and Mulder moaned her name.

“Scully! Fuck!”

He gave a last hard thrust, his face pressed against her neck, and then he was coming, his loud moans filling the bedroom as the heat of his release filled her cunt.

Outside, rain began to fall, pounding against the apartment building, loud on the bedroom window. Inside, the air was thick with the warm scent of passion and whispered words, enveloping their bodies like soft velvet.

With his chest pressed into her back, his legs bent against hers, his hand caressing her pregnant belly, and his son kicking at him, Mulder kept his mouth at Scully’s ear. “This is where I want to fit in.”

Scully turned her head to look at him. “You do fit in here. You always have.” She paused. “Because I love you.”

“I know,” Mulder replied smugly, smirking at her, and she rolled her eyes, smiling back at him. He then turned serious. “I'm sorry for being so careless. I wasn't thinking about what was really important. What's the point in trying to save 20 total strangers if I lose the two people I care about the most?" He sighed, and then grinned at her again. "How about instead of chasing after the X-Files, and finding my own place, I just move out of the guest room and into this one?”

“Is that what you really want?” she asked apprehensively.

He sighed contentedly, nuzzling her cheek. “Yes. Because I love you.”

She smiled and he leaned over to kiss her by her mouth, his hand still caressing her belly, and Scully knew without any more doubt that Mulder meant both her and their baby.


	91. "There is so much more you need to do with your life."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder takes responsibility for his actions in the Gulf of Mexico and begins to plan for his life post-FBI.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angus and Julia Stone – “Love Will Take You”
> 
> If we never found this love  
> If we never took that road  
> If we hadn't had the heart  
> We wouldn't have this home
> 
> Love, love will take you  
> Love, love will take you there  
> Love, love will take you  
> Love, love will take you there
> 
> In this world, the heart beats slow  
> In my arms, let's share the cold  
> In my eyes, you're all I've known  
> Darlin' let's go home
> 
> Love, love will take you  
> Love, love will take you there  
> Love, love will take you  
> Love, love will take you there
> 
> Love, love will take you  
> Love, love will take you there  
> Love, love will take you  
> Love, love will take you there

Mulder woke up early on Monday morning, November 20th, to the sight of Scully sleeping soundly next to him, and he smiled. With widening eyes he saw something that was unmistakably the shape of a small foot slightly protruding from her belly. He smiled even wider and reached out to poke the foot, which was then quickly drawn away from Scully’s abdomen, disappearing from view. Scully had a pillow between her legs for support, and Mulder then reached down to remove it, before taking her bare leg and hooking it over his hip, settling himself between her thighs.

Scully’s eyes opened at the action, and she smiled at Mulder. Waking up next to him filled her with warmth and a fluttering of pleasant feelings, the strife and frustration of the previous day had evaporated. They gazed at one another as his hand stroked her leg, moving up to caress her belly, going behind her to trace along her spine, before moving down to squeeze her ass.

“You look so much better naked,” he whispered, grinning at her. “Clothes don’t do you any justice.”

She chuckled. “Well, maternity clothes aren’t exactly anyone’s dream attire. But unfortunately I do have to put on clothes and go to work.”

He smirked at her. “Not for long. You and me both.”

“What do you mean?” Scully asked, running her fingers through the patch of curls on his chest.

“Why would I want to work there if you’re not?” Mulder responded, giving her a slight incredulous look.

She gave him a half smile, her hand moving up to trace his collarbone. “You worked there before you even met me.”

He snorted. “Yeah, and I was miserable. I have no intentions of sticking around that place without you.”

Mulder then leaned towards Scully, kissing down her jaw to that sensitive spot of flesh behind her earlobe and down along her throat, her breath hitching in his ear. Not long after he was shifting, slightly changing the angle of their bodies, and then he was sinking into her wet heat, inch after hard inch. They moved together, his thrusts shallow and slow at first, carrying them both to an eventual crescendo of intense pleasure, their moans and cries filling the air of the bedroom.

Ninety minutes later, Scully and Mulder arrived at FBI headquarters together just before 8:15. He reported to the third floor bullpen and she made her way to the basement office. All morning, Mulder had been expecting a phone call from upstairs. He knew it was only a matter of time before Kersh found out he’d gone down to Texas. The oil rig may have collapsed into the sea, but he was sure some record of his involvement would somehow make its way to the FBI. Mulder didn’t think Agent Doggett was the kind of person to turn informer, and go running to the Deputy Director to report his insubordinate actions.

However, just after 3:00 pm, the telephone on his desk in the bullpen did ring.

“Mulder.”

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Scully? What’s up? Please tell me you wanna leave early today.”

She sighed. “I have to go up to Kersh’s office at four o’clock. So does Skinner. Agent Doggett’s even been called in from home.”

Anxiety started to knot his stomach, but something she said confused him. “Why is Doggett at home?”

“He was supposed to stay home from work today and tomorrow to recover fully from the concussion,” she replied, a sense of dread starting to overwhelm her. “Doctor’s orders. According to Skinner, Kersh called Agent Doggett at home a few minutes ago and told him to come in for the meeting.”

“Scully, are you okay?” he asked, hearing the worry in her voice.

She paused, chewing her bottom lip. “I really don’t want to lose the Quantico job, Mulder. Kersh had already warned me that I was running out of mistakes, and that was _before_ the Galpex rig went up in flames. And this also gives Kersh the perfect excuse to shut down the X-Files.”

Mulder stood up from his desk chair. “Everything’s gonna be all right, Scully. And don’t worry.” He then lowered his voice, glancing at the desks closest to his. “It’s not good for the kid.” After hanging up the receiver, he quickly shut down the computer, grabbed his black suit jacket off the back of his chair, and walked out of the bullpen towards the elevators.

Fifteen minutes later, after about 10 uncomfortable minutes spent waiting in the outer office with Kersh’s secretary, he was sitting in one of the chairs in front of the Deputy Director’s desk. They were the only two people in the room.

“Twenty-four men are dead,” Kersh stated harshly. “Men Agent Doggett was assigned to help. A $200 million oil rig is lying at the bottom of the ocean. An investment which held keen American interests. And you’re telling me you have the answer as to why Agent Doggett allowed that rig to blow up? ‘Cause I’d really like to hear it.”

“Agent Doggett wasn’t responsible, sir,” said Mulder. “The men on board that rig were infected with an alien virus, and they’re the ones who destroyed the rig.”

Kersh glared at him, even more livid than Mulder had ever seen him before, which he wouldn’t have thought possible. “You expect me to bring that nonsense to Galpex Oil? To the Justice Department?”

Mulder stared right back. “It’s the truth, sir.”

“And how do _you_ know it was the oil workers who set fire to that rig?” asked Kersh, his tone dangerous.

“Because I was there,” he replied. “I went of my own accord. It wasn’t Agent Doggett’s doing, nor was it Assistant Director Skinner’s. No one knew I was going out there. Not even Agent Scully. I acted independently. I made the call.”

Kersh’s expression hardened even more. “It wasn’t your _call_ to make.” But his eyes then lit up, and he almost smirked. “You do that a lot. Act _independently._ No matter what the consequences are to the public, to the FBI, even to those who have the unfortunate luck of being partnered with you. For someone so hell-bent on protecting your _‘work,’_ as you call it, you don’t mind dragging every ounce of credibility you have through the mud. _Agent Mulder,_ the FBI has no place for those who choose to act independently. Employees of the FBI are required to conduct themselves in a manner that reflects favorably upon the Department of Justice, the Bureau, and the profession of Law Enforcement. You’ve done nothing but bring the FBI into _disrepute._ You are hereby dismissed from your position as a special agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

Mulder sat back in the chair and sighed, looking calmly at the Deputy Director, but refused to allow Kersh to see any kind of reaction. He also amusedly wondered how he hadn’t managed to get fired long before now.

Kersh eyed him, pausing briefly, and then continued. “You may appeal this decision, of course, and file a grievance claim with Human Resources. But I _strongly_ discourage you from doing so.”

Sighing, Mulder stood up, and casually shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’d turn in my badge and weapon, but they went down with the rig.”

“Don’t make me get security to escort you out of here,” Kersh stated, staring at him sarcastically.

“That’s not necessary, sir.” Mulder then turned and walked away, going through the door to the outer office. Stacey Palmer sat at the desk, her arms crossed defensively and glaring at him. He rolled his eyes and made his way out to the hallway, where he found Scully waiting for him.

She felt nervous, wondering what had happened in Kersh’s office. She’d called Mulder back several minutes later, but he didn’t answer his desk phone, and she suspected he’d gone to see the Deputy Director.

“What happened?” she quickly asked.

“Everything’s okay,” Mulder replied, his hand going to her shoulder reassuringly. “I got fired.”

Scully’s brows furrowed and she gave him a puzzled look, her eyes searching his face. How did getting fired mean everything was okay? But he really didn’t look bothered or upset. At that moment, Skinner approached them in the hall.

“It’s been a pleasure, sir,” Mulder said, holding out his hand. “Don’t be a stranger.” Skinner shook his hand, his expression one of confusion.

“Assistant Director? Agent Scully?” Stacey Palmer was standing in the doorway to Kersh’s office. “The Deputy Director would like to speak to you for just a moment.”

Mulder turned to Scully. “I’ll meet you down in the parking garage.” He then turned and walked back down the hallway, Skinner and Scully staring after him with knitted brows, getting onto the elevator and pressing the ‘B’ button.

*****

Mulder walked away from the basement office, heading towards the FBI parking garage, a sudden sense of freedom lifting his spirits. No more Kersh. No more fucking 302 forms. No more damn expense reports. No more trying to defend the validity of his work to closed-minded bureaucrats. He was free.

He entered the third floor bullpen, and apparently Kersh's secretary got the ball rolling because agents and other administrative staff all stopped and stared at him in a way that hadn't occurred since he first set foot in the room a couple weeks ago. They all knew Kersh had given him the axe. Mulder went over to his desk to empty it and realized he hadn't actually bothered with putting any personal effects in any of the drawers. He shrugged, pushed the black leather office chair back up to the desk, and then walked out of the bullpen just as casually as he'd walked in, making no acknowledgment of the blatant stares in his direction. But he was thankful that he'd noticed Agent Black wasn't in there.

After a quick elevator ride to the sixth floor to have a brief chat with Agent Danny Valladeo, who worked in the Cryptography Section, he rode the elevator back down to the first floor, heading towards the employee entrance. As Mulder approached the security checkpoint, his gaze zeroed in on Scully walking a few feet ahead of him.

“Hey, G-woman,” he called out.

She turned around and looked at him, giving him a small smile, but then her expression turned to one of concern. Scully stopped and waited for Mulder to catch up with her. He didn't take his eyes off her face as he approached her, the magnitude of the situation at hand hitting him harder than ever before. Harder than the first moment he'd laid eyes on Scully's pregnant belly. Harder than the moment he was told the X-Files was no longer his unit and another agent was running it; harder than the moment, not too long ago, when he'd shaken that agent's hand and walked out of the basement office, never to return.

“Are you sure you're okay?” asked Scully. She knew that he had understood the fact she needed him to be present, to be responsible, and she wasn't going to tolerate any more risks for the sake of the X-Files. She knew that he'd told her he wasn't going to stick around the FBI after she left. But the timing and method of his departure had been taken out of his control and dictated by Kersh. Scully could only imagine how harsh and belittling the Deputy Director had been to Mulder.

He gazed at her for a moment. “Yeah, I'm okay. I'm better than okay.” Mulder then held out his hand to Scully, amidst the numerous special agents and other Bureau staff making their way in or out through the employee entrance. She was well aware that many eyes were on them, but she smiled and took his hand, their fingers threading.

“Let's go home,” Mulder said.

They then walked out of the Hoover Building, making their way to the FBI parking garage. Mulder glanced down at Scully as they walked, realization hitting him once again. It was over. His obsession with the X-Files, the possibility of chasing down the unknown, bringing the truth about the paranormal to light, late night stakeouts in an FBI-issued sedan, last minute flights to the other side of the country, where they would undoubtedly save a small Midwestern town from some supernatural force, passionate basement office discussions of extreme theories and scientific counterpoints. It was all over. His FBI partnership with Dana Scully was over.

A lump grew in his throat, hot tears pricked his eyes, and he blinked them away. He’d first met Scully in that basement office. He’d pretended to be indifferent to the sudden arrival of this petite woman from Quantico, with her strait laced suit and briefcase, pretended not to care that her assignment to assist him had seemed to signal the eventual dissolution of the X-Files. She was everything he’d expected her to be. She was nothing he’d expected her to be. The air of the basement office, which had been bitter, angry, and dull when he’d inhabited the place alone, became filled with excitement and purpose once he fully opened himself to sharing it with someone else. And now it was gone.

It was all gone, but that was okay. It was time to let someone else deal with the lies and doublespeak, the manipulation and bureaucratic red tape. That shit was now Agent Doggett’s problem. Mulder glanced down at Scully again, noticing the content expression on her face as she held his hand tight. She was no longer his FBI partner; that was over. But she was his forever life partner. Whatever he may be giving up by leaving the FBI and the X-Files behind, he was gaining a hundredfold by what Scully was offering him.

Mulder walked back around to open the passenger side door to Scully’s car, and got into the seat as she was buckling her seat belt. “You hungry?” she asked. “Let’s get something to eat.”

“You’re not even a mother yet, and you’re already force-feeding me,” he deadpanned.

“If I’m not mistaken, you still have some weight to gain back,” replied Scully, smirking at him.

He snorted, nodding his head begrudgingly. “What do you want?”

She pulled her cell phone from the center console in front of the gear shift, handing it to Mulder. “China Wok. Speed dial 8.” She then bit her bottom lip, glancing over at him self-consciously. He turned a sarcastically shocked stare in her direction, but then he laughed at the smile on her face and the blush in her cheeks as she looked away to focus on backing out of the parking space. Mulder quickly ordered their favorites, and 10 minutes later they were in Georgetown, pulling up to the curb in front of the Chinese takeout place. He ran in and grabbed their food, and was back inside the car five minutes later. Two minutes after Mulder had sat back down in the passenger seat, Scully was parking the car in front of her apartment building.

They stood side by side in her kitchen, unpacking the large brown paper bag and grabbing plates and utensils. As Scully watched him pulling an egg roll from the plastic package and setting it on his plate, an indescribable sadness came over her. “Mulder,” she said quietly. “I _am_ really sorry about what happened with Kersh. I’m sorry about all this. About how much has changed. I know it hasn’t been easy for you. And I used to think that I wanted change; that I was desperate for things to change. But now…”

Mulder turned towards her, and glanced down at her belly. “I think you’ll particularly like _this_ change. I’m liking it myself.” He waggled his eyebrows at Scully.

Her eyes shone with unshed tears, but her lips curved up to smile at him. He leaned over and kissed her, softly, tenderly, as his palm caressed her belly, and the baby immediately began throwing a fit against his hand. Mulder pulled out of the kiss and looked down at her abdomen. “Settle down, kid.”

His mouth then recaptured Scully’s lips and she took his hand off her belly, pulling it around her back and pushing forward against him. He curved his body to accommodate the belly as best he could, wrapping his arms around her in a hug that was somewhat awkward. “I get the feeling there’s something between us,” he whispered, breaking the kiss, and she chuckled.

She then sought his lips again, and raised her arms up around Mulder’s neck, holding him tight against her. Apparently pregnant Scully was an affectionately demonstrative Scully, and he didn’t mind this change one bit. Hormones weren’t so bad. They must get a bad rap. He’d just have to do his best to avoid that pregnancy anger, though.

Scully finally broke the kiss just as Mulder went to deepen it. “I’m hungry,” she whispered.

“So am I,” he stated, his eyes darkening, and then kissed her again, his hands moving down to grope her ass.

He was hungry for food, but he was mostly hungry for her, for a future that he’d never thought was possible. He still had fears regarding her pregnancy and the baby, Krycek’s obscure threats, an impending alien invasion. But he was also starting to truly believe in miracles, in possibilities that a happy future was actually attainable for them. Was it really outside the realm of possibility that the three of them could be safe? That the inevitable threat could be delayed, or even stopped altogether? That there was hope he and Scully could watch their child grow up free from danger, and even death?

She laughed against his mouth, and then pulled away. “Later. I need to eat. And cold Chinese food will just make me gag.”

Mulder immediately let go of Scully, wanting to avoid having a puking pregnant woman on his hands, and they carried their dinner to the living room, where they spent the rest of their evening. Once they’d finished eating, he quickly bagged up the leftovers and walked out to the dumpster in front of the apartment building, to prevent any smells from bothering her. Scully then agreed to let Mulder watch the Washington Redskins game on Monday Night Football if he rubbed her feet, and he gladly accepted those terms.

*****

Early on Tuesday morning, November 21st, Scully awoke to the sound of the kettle whistling loudly in the kitchen. She turned her head to see Mulder was not next to her. After extricating herself from the mass of pillows behind her back and between her legs, she got out of bed and made her way to the kitchen, where Mulder was standing at the counter. He’d smiled to himself, as he listened to her walk down the hallway towards him, the soft thud of bare footsteps very lumbering and un-Scully-like, the sound of a woman in her final weeks of pregnancy.

Mulder turned to see her come into the kitchen, barefoot and wearing a light blue sleeveless satin nightgown, which hung to her knees. He wore thick socks, gray sweatpants, and a long-sleeved navy blue shirt, trying to keep warm on this chilly morning. Scully needed the apartment kept cooler, and she always stared daggers at him if he even considered touching the thermostat. She claimed she was her own furnace, and he knew better than to get in the way of a pregnant woman and her well-being.

“What would you like for breakfast?” asked Mulder.

“You don’t have to fix me anything,” Scully replied.

He shrugged, smiling. “I’m out of a job. I’ve got a lot of time on my hands now.”

She grinned, nodding her head. “I think I’m just going to have a bowl of cereal. But I’m gonna go take a shower first.”

After showering and getting dressed into her black suit pants, white button down blouse, and black cardigan, Scully walked back into the kitchen to find a spot at the table with a mug of steaming mint tea, the box of Special K™, gallon of 1% milk, bowl, and spoon. She smiled as Mulder approached the table with his toasted bagel and the jar of peanut butter, sitting down in the seat across from her.

“So what will you be doing today?” he asked, removing the lid from the jar and dipping the butter knife inside.

“I think I want to do some more research into that Huecha Indian tribe in northwestern Mexico,” she responded. “Find out what exactly in their DNA makeup enabled them to repel the virus. That kind of information would be invaluable.”

Mulder nodded, taking the milk gallon and pouring himself a glass. “Do you think Kersh would approve such a report?”

She sighed, thinking. “I doubt he’d want to hear anything about it. But maybe I can continue my research into the Huecha’s genetic code when I get to Quantico. George made it clear that I’d be free to do my own research projects around my pathologist and teaching duties.”

He sat back in his chair, taking a bite of his bagel, and watched her sip from her mug, his lips curving into a smile. He felt in such awe of her. This amazing woman was sitting there, about to miraculously bring new life into the world against all odds, and she was concerned with the genetic makeup of a population that was possibly immune to infection by the alien virus. And she wasn’t concerned just for the sake of educational purposes. It was so that they could fight, so lives could be saved.

They didn’t need the FBI for this. They didn’t need the X-Files. In many ways, the X-Files’ attachment to the bureaucratic oversight of the FBI had been slowing them down the past couple years, holding them back. Mulder had begun to realize this before he’d even been abducted, remembering his frustration over their lack of progress and that audit by the Accounting Department. He didn’t need his office. He only needed his partner. She was the best thing to ever come out of the basement.

And now Agent Doggett could work the X-Files through official channels and using government resources. He could deal with all the encumbering bullshit that came along with it. He was man enough, and bull-headed enough, to take on the FBI suits. Mulder was sure of it. And maybe that’s why he hadn’t protested his termination from the FBI, hadn’t fought Kersh for his job and his work in the basement. It was time to move on.

Everything he wanted and needed was sitting right in front of him at this kitchen table. This woman and the occupant temporarily residing in her swollen belly. Her mind. Her heart. Their shared experiences, expertise, and passion for truth and justice. They would create new experiences, they’d find new ways to pursue the truth and uphold justice. As he watched Scully absentmindedly rub her hand over her abdomen, already soothing the child she’d yet to meet, Mulder realized that leaving the X-Files behind had been inevitable. It had been a foregone conclusion the moment she’d walked into his basement office and shook his hand almost eight years ago. Everything they had experienced, everything that had happened to them, had led them here, to this moment, together.

“So what have you got planned for today?” asked Scully.

“Oh, you know, I figure I’ll catch up on all the trashy daytime TV that I’ve been missing out on all these years,” Mulder replied, smirking at her. “I can’t remember the last time I actually got to watch _The Price is Right._ I’m looking forward to it.”

She snorted, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. She’d probably come home to find he hadn’t moved from the couch the entire day, filling his brain with Jerry Springer and Lifetime movies. But Scully thought that he’d more than earned some lazy days.

“Have you given any thought to what you’d like to do in the long term?” she asked. “It’s too bad you were fired. The Academy would’ve loved having you as an instructor.”

He gave her a blank stare, blinking. “You honestly think Kersh would want me to influence the young minds of rookie agents?”

Scully grinned, licking her lips and nodding. “I think he would’ve been okay with having you out of Headquarters, with you out of the X-Files and in a classroom.”

“I think the idea of having me so conveniently close to the Marine Corps Brig would be the only appeal,” Mulder said dryly.

“And while you were… gone,” she said, ignoring his comment about the military prison. “The Director appointed Christian Kalet as Assistant Director to the Training Division, and he’s a fan of yours. You could’ve gotten into the Academy.”

Mulder shook his head. “I wouldn’t have wanted to do that, even if I hadn’t gotten fired. I’ve got other plans.”

She knitted her brows, having heard nothing of these plans. “What are you thinking of doing?”

“Well…,” he said, pausing. “You’re gonna be at Quantico all day, Scully. Someone’s gotta take care of the kid.”

“What?” Her eyes widened. That was the last thing she’d ever expected. “You want to be… Mr. Mom?”

He grinned. “Well, that _was_ a pretty good movie.” But then he dropped the sarcasm, as doubt started to sink in. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

Scully sighed. “That’s not what I meant. I have every faith in your capabilities, Mulder. But, I mean… is that what you really want? To be with a screaming, crying, hungry, pooping baby all day long?”

“Hey, me and the kid are gonna be best buds,” he replied. “It won’t be forever. The kid’s gonna go to school eventually. Or day care. Maybe. If it happens to be guarded by Marines.” He paused briefly, thinking. “Never mind, I don’t trust those fuckers. No stranger is gonna look after him, if I have any say.” Mulder then looked at Scully, suddenly feeling nervous. “Do I… have a say?”

She smiled, giving him an incredulous look. “Of course, Mulder.” Scully then glanced at the clock on the microwave. “I’ve got to finish getting ready.”

After getting up from the table, she went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and fix her hair. Once she’d applied her makeup, she walked back out to the kitchen, grabbing her holster, FBI badge, wallet, and keys. Mulder grabbed her jacket off the coat rack and helped her slip it on. He then opened the door for her.

“Have fun with your trashy TV,” said Scully, her eyes twinkling at him amusedly.

“Oh, I will,” he replied, raising his eyebrows at her. “I’ve got a long list of soap operas and talk shows I can’t wait to delve into.”

She snorted, and he leaned down towards her, kissing her lightly and lovingly, and then Scully left for work. After closing and locking the front door, Mulder walked through the living room, bypassing the television and couch, out to the hallway, opening the hall closet and grabbing the small red tool chest from the top shelf. He then entered the guest bedroom, walking over to the unopened cardboard boxes against the wall. He pulled out the box which held the pieces that would make up a baby crib, separating it from the others, and ripping open one end of the box, Mulder got down to work.


	92. "I never saw you as a mother before."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully don't really know what to expect. Mulder pays the Lone Gunmen a visit. Scully needs some relief.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.
> 
> Sidenote: For those of you on Twitter, I believe the site X-Files News along with Kelly of The TV Mouse will be live-tweeting the Season 9 finale. You can join in or read the tweets with #TXFTheTruth. Part One will be this Saturday, March 21, at 3:00 am Los Angeles time, 6:00 am New York time, 10:00 am London time, 9:00 pm Melbourne time, and 11:00 pm Auckland time. I will be getting up at the crack of dawn to participate, and feel free to join in too!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Land – “White Nights”
> 
> Has it been a day or a week  
> As my eyes begin to close  
> I am walking in my sleep  
> Living in a state in-between  
> Do the signs begin to show  
> See the eyes fare in the dark  
> As they glow, as they glow
> 
> These dreams under my pillow  
> In the twilight of these white nights  
> These dreams under my pillow  
> In the twilight of these white nights  
> Of these white nights
> 
> Something is about to be born  
> There's a restlessness in me  
> Keeps me up until the dawn  
> There is no silence  
> I will keep following the sirens  
> There is no silence  
> I will keep following the sirens
> 
> These dreams under my pillow  
> In the twilight of these white nights  
> These dreams under my pillow  
> In the twilight of these white nights  
> Of these white nights  
> Of these white nights

On Tuesday afternoon, Scully sat at her desk in the basement office, looking at the computer screen and reading up on the origins of the Huecha Indian tribe, when the phone rang.

“Scully.”

“Hey, it’s me.”

She smiled. “Hi.”

Scully had expected Mulder to call her at some point when he got bored, expected him to find unemployment not so enjoyable after all. Doggett glanced over at her, and grinned at the sound of her voice and the smile on her face. She went from serious professional ‘Agent Scully’ to simply a woman in love in about two seconds.

“Did you know that Thanksgiving is in two days?” asked Mulder.

“Yeah, why?” she replied.

He paused. “Oh, uh, you just haven’t said anything about it. Are we going to your mother’s house?”

She chuckled. “No, don't worry. Mom is still in San Diego. She won’t be back until this weekend.”

“Well, what about Charlie and Jennifer?” he asked. “They having Thanksgiving at their house?”

“No, they’re going to Jennifer’s parents’ house this year,” she said.

Mulder paused again. “So, your family has just abandoned you for the holiday?”

Scully laughed. “No, Mulder. I was invited out to San Diego, but I didn’t think I’d be able to get on a plane. And Charlie said we were more than welcome to go to his in-laws for dinner, but I know how you feel about holidays and family stuff.”

“Yeah, uh, right. Yeah.” And then he paused. Scully had the fleeting notion that Mulder actually sounded disappointed.

“I’ll cook a turkey for you, if you want me to,” she said, smiling.

He snorted. “No, that’s okay. I’ll, uh, see you when you get home.”

Her brows knitted at his defeated tone of voice. “Yeah, okay. Not long now. Just a couple hours.”

“Good. See you then.” Mulder then hung up the phone.

Scully hung up the receiver and sat back in her leather office chair, thinking. She then looked up at her partner, busy typing up his case report on what happened with the Galpex oil rig.

“Agent Doggett, what will you be doing for Thanksgiving?” she asked.

“Watching football,” he answered quickly, without looking away from his computer monitor.

She smirked. “With your family?”

He shook his head, turning to look over at her. “Nah, I don’t have any family.”

“What about your parents?” Scully asked, surprised. “Brothers and sisters?”

“I’m an only child,” replied Doggett. “Mom passed away in 1983 when I was in Lebanon with the Marines. Cancer. Dad died of a heart attack five years ago, right after I graduated from the FBI Academy. So it’s just me. Well, I’ve got aunts and uncles and cousins down in Georgia. But no immediate family.”

She considered him a moment, watching him turn back to the computer. “How would you like to watch football at my place?”

He turned back to stare at her. “Thanksgiving? With you and Agent Mulder?”

“Why not?” Scully shrugged, giving him a half smile.

“All right, sure.” Doggett then returned to his case report, wondering if Mulder would approve of what he’d just been asked.

Scully then got back on the phone and made two more phone calls, handing out some more invitations to Thanksgiving at her place.

At 5:00 pm, she walked out of the basement office, arriving back at her apartment twenty minutes later. When she unlocked the door and stepped inside, everything was quiet. Mulder wasn’t camped out on the couch. The television wasn’t on. He wasn’t hovering in the kitchen, trying to decide what to eat. Scully dropped her keys into her coat pocket and then hung it up on the rack, before setting her badge, wallet, and gun holster on the side table against the kitchen wall. She walked towards her bedroom, glancing inside, but he wasn’t in there. He wasn’t in the bathroom either. Stepping out of the bathroom and into the hallway, she sighed, wondering why Mulder wasn’t at home.

Scully glanced to her left and noticed that the door to the guest bedroom was closed, which was odd. She walked down the hall and opened the bedroom door, immediately noticing that the double bed which had once taken up a large space in the middle of the room was gone. Although the bedding was folded in a pile against the wall where the headboard had once been. Scully’s eyes widened as she took in the crib, changing table, and bassinet against the other wall. The white nursery dresser was still boxed up, with her small red tool chest on the floor next to it.

Her eyes then zeroed in on the bedside table, which still remained in the room, and the book that laid on top of it. Scully walked over to the table, lifted Mulder’s glasses off the cover of the book, and picked it up. She’d been looking for this book for over a week, but hadn’t been able to find it. It never occurred to look in the guest room, where Mulder had been staying, as he’d shown very little interest in her pregnancy at the time. As she flipped through the pages of _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_ , she noticed highlighted passages now popped up here and there as well as Mulder’s familiar scrawl in the margin.

Scully slightly angled the book to read what he’d written: ‘Preachy, puritanical about food, fucking silly.’ She giggled, knowing that she’d felt the same way about a lot of things in the book when she’d first read it. She then heard the sound of her door closing and loud footsteps in the hallway.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

She turned at the sound of Mulder’s voice, and smiled. He was wearing gray sweatpants and his old Knicks sweatshirt with the sleeves torn off. He was also drenched in sweat and holding a basketball under his arm.

“Where have you been?” Scully asked.

“I was playing basketball at the Y,” he replied. “I wanted to make it home before you did, but I lost track of time.”

She smiled again, happy that he’d gotten out of the apartment and did something he enjoyed. Scully then held up the pregnancy guide, smirking at him and looking amused.

Mulder nodded, grinning. “I was just doing a little reading.”

“Read anything interesting?”

“Well, the chapter on sex during pregnancy was insightful,” he replied, waggling his eyebrows at her. “Care to do some more field research?”

She snorted, and looked around the room. “You did all this? I don’t… I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

He shook his head, and waved off her thanks. “I was happy to do it. I wanted to do it.” He sighed, looking at the book in her hand. “I already missed out on too much.”

Scully stepped closer to him, intending to wrap him in an embrace, but then she stopped short and covered her face with her hand, her expression cringing. “You stink.”

Mulder laughed. “I’ll go take a shower right now.”

That evening, after she cooked his favorite meal, Mulder went to sit down in the living room while Scully took a shower. The _What to Expect_ book had returned to the coffee table, and he kept staring at it. She then joined him on the couch, dressed in her light blue robe. He thought she smelled like vanilla, and moved to sit closer to her, his arm going around her shoulder.

Scully’s eyes also often drifted to look at the book. It had been a fairly useful guide so far, but her biggest questions could never possibly be answered by that book. It was a little mind-boggling to both Mulder and Scully to think about what was happening inside of her. It would be almost impossible to comprehend even if she’d had a normal reproductive system. Pregnancy and childbirth were amazing, yet common, everyday miracles for the majority of women. But Scully wasn’t just any woman. How could a book ever explain what was going on inside her? How this had even happened?

She didn't want to think of her pregnancy or her baby as anything other than normal. She refused to even consider the possibility, pushing the fear and doubt as far away from her as possible. He wanted to imagine that this child would be the very best of everything he loved about Scully, something tangible that would remind him every day how much he loved her. He wanted to believe it was a gift she was giving him. If only he could bury the doubt and the fear, the frequent wondering of where this gift actually came from.

“Scully, some of the stuff in that book is kinda scary,” Mulder said to her, nodding towards it, thinking of all the normal stuff that could go wrong without having to think about the extreme possibilities. “Do you feel assured about all that worst case scenario stuff because you’re a doctor? Or does it make you worry because you know exactly how bad things can get?”

“I wasn’t scared until now, so thanks for bringing it up,” she quipped. His eyes widened, feeling chastised, but then she grinned at him. “No, I’m not scared. It is reassuring to understand whatever may be physically happening to me at any given time, so that I don’t have to freak out and call the OB/GYN every day. Besides, I have delivered a baby before, if you recall. In the middle of a hurricane, no less.”

Mulder rolled his eyes. “I was busy having my neck throttled by a sea monster, if _you_ recall.” She laughed, and he stared at her in open-mouthed shock. “Why is that funny? I don’t know what was worse, that or your less-than-gentle way with the tweezers to get those things out.”

She shrugged, still giggling. “I’d just delivered a 10-pound baby, Mulder. I was tired.”

“How would you like to have bites all over your neck, huh?” he replied. Before she could reply, he’d turned towards her and leaned over, nipping her gently. Scully froze, and he nipped at her neck twice more before she exhaled the breath she'd been holding.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes closed.

He murmured against her neck, his hand moving up to the collar, loosening the robe and pushing one side down. “What do you think I’m doing?”

Scully sighed as his mouth went to her shoulder. “I really don’t feel like it. I’m… feeling short and fat right now.”

Mulder raised his head to look at her, his brows furrowing at such a comment. “Well, you are short. But there’s nothing wrong with that. You’re not fat, you’re pregnant. And in a few short weeks, the kid’s not gonna be in there anymore. So you don’t have to worry about that either. You’re beautiful. You’re having a beautiful baby. You’ve always been beautiful. Even when you were in the hospital, when you weighed 90 pounds and were dying of cancer, you were beautiful. You’re beautiful right now, and very sexy. And not only do you have Skinner, but you’ve got Doggett now worshipping at your feet.”

“Oh, my God, Mulder.” She laughed. “First Skinner has a crush on me, and now Agent Doggett does too?”

“I’m serious,” he said. “If I’d never come back, you probably would’ve had Skinner and Doggett battling it out over who gets to take you to Lamaze class.”

Scully shook her head, still laughing. “That’s not true.”

He nodded enthusiastically, giving her a teasing smile. “They both sent you flowers when you were in the hospital. Completely unprofessional, if you ask me. They both faced down Krycek just to protect you. I mean, come on.”

“Krycek?” she said, her eyes widening. “What are you talking about? What… Did something happen with Krycek?”

Mulder leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands and sighing over being so stupid. What was he thinking? Actually, that was the problem. He hadn’t been thinking at all.

Scully stared at him, her posture stiffening and her stomach going into knots. “Mulder.”

He sighed again, admitted to himself there was no getting around it now, and sat back upright. Mulder then proceeded to tell her almost everything that had occurred when he’d been in the hospital. He told her about Krycek’s threats, about the invaluable vaccine he’d claimed to have but then he’d let the vial smash on the ground, he told her of Skinner’s decision to pull the plug and Doggett going after Krycek in the hospital parking garage. But he refrained from disclosing his own conversation with Krycek. Mulder then was surprised that, despite the fact she hadn’t been happy about being kept in the dark about this, the more dangerous and frightening the details he discussed, the more at ease she seemed to be.

“Who knows what he was even up to?” said Scully, sighing. “I think Krycek must’ve known that asking Skinner to harm the baby would be a fool’s errand. As if he’d ever do something like that.”

“See? My point exactly. He’s got it bad for you. And so does Doggett.” Mulder smirked at her, hoping to move away from the heavier subjects back to a lighter conversation. "You know, you've got quite a few pregnancy books on the bookshelf, I noticed. But there weren't any about baby names."

Scully glanced at him, fighting a smile. "Nope."

He nodded his head slowly. "So... does that mean you already have an idea of what you're gonna call him? Like, maybe naming him after someone you know?"

"Why?" she asked, eyeing him.

"Well, I do have a request, if that's the case," he replied.

She licked her lips, her dimple showing itself. "And what's that?"

Mulder looked over at her, and smirked. "That you go for a normal, traditional name."

"You're requesting something normal and traditional?" she asked incredulously. "Did hell freeze over while I was in the shower?"

"Funny. I just don't want the name 'Fox' anywhere near the kid."

Scully laughed. "Don't worry, it won't be."

Mulder stared at her suspiciously. "The same goes for 'Walter' and 'John.'"

She giggled, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

He glanced back to the pregnancy guide book on the coffee table, thinking of Krycek and his threats and insinuations about their baby, knowing there probably wasn’t a book on earth that could tell him and Scully what to expect.

A couple hours later, Mulder helped Scully get up from the couch and as she made her way towards the bedroom, he shut off the TV and walked around, turning off the lights. He once again looked down at _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_ on the coffee table. He grabbed the book and walked over to the bookcase, placing it on the shelf. His eyes once again zeroed in on _Native American Beliefs and Practices_ , thinking he should probably get around to reading it now that he had a lot more time on his hands.

After turning off the last lamp in the living room and heading into the bathroom to brush his teeth, he joined Scully in the bedroom. She was standing at her dresser, pulling out a pale yellow nightgown. Mulder walked up behind her, taking the gown from her hands.

“No, don’t wear anything,” he said quietly, moving to stand behind her. “Don’t cover yourself up.”

She sighed as his hands went to her robe, pulling it apart and down off her shoulders. Mulder looked at their reflections in the mirror. “See how beautiful you are?” he whispered.

Scully smiled, and his mouth went to her neck as his hands moved up to palm and squeeze her breasts. “What you are doing, Mulder?” she murmured, closing her eyes.

“I’m trying to seduce you, Scully.”

“It’s working.”

A little while later, as she drifted off to sleep with her back to Mulder, surrounded by pillows, his hand caressing her arm and shoulder, moving across her upper back, his eyes focused on the scar at the base of her neck. And Mulder couldn’t deny it. He was scared. Scared for Scully, and what might’ve been done to her. Scared for the baby, and what he could be used for. Scared for himself and of his memories from the months he was on that cold ship. That ship that might come back for him at any moment and take him away again. He wanted to tell Scully a big reason why he’d kept himself so distant those first couple weeks he’d been back, and even now Mulder knew he still didn’t involve himself as much as he could, was because he couldn’t stand being taken again, couldn’t stand losing her again. And now there was so much more to lose.

*****

On Wednesday morning, November 22nd, after seeing Scully off to work, Mulder hailed a taxi and arrived at the Lone Gunmen’s office about 15 minutes later.

“Mornin’ boys,” he said as he walked through the door.

“What’re you doing here?” asked Frohike, closing the door behind Mulder. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

Langly and Byers walked up, joining them, and shook Mulder’s hand.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m unemployed now. Kersh stuck it to me.”

The Gunmen stared at him, and then exchanged glances. “You ready to take us up on our longstanding offer?” Byers asked. Langly and Frohike grinned at each other.

Mulder chuckled. “To come and work with you guys? Uh, no.”

“Hey, man, we’re moving up in the world,” said Langly, crossing his arms defensively. “We’ve even got an assistant now. Name’s Jimmy Bond.”

“I’m sure it’s exciting stuff, really,” replied Mulder, giving his friends a half smile. “But I don’t think Scully would like it.”

The Gunmen exchanged another glance, and then nodded. He was right. Byers turned to look at Mulder. “So, then… to what do we owe this visit of yours?”

He sighed. “Remember, uh, over a year ago, I came to you with a box Diana had given me?”

They stared at him, eyes widening. “Yeah,” replied Frohike. “We’ve got the box locked up in one of the closets.”

“Well go get it,” Mulder stated. “We’re going through it again.”

After an uneasy look shared by the Gunmen, Langly went to retrieve the box and then soon returned. The four friends then sat around the table, delving into the information. Many hours went by, pizza and soda consumed, records and journal entries re-read, and they didn’t come to any different conclusions than the last time.

“These MUFON women were all willing participants,” Byers said to Mulder.

“The tests weren’t done without their knowledge,” added Frohike.

“And they all failed,” Langly concluded.

Mulder sighed. “I know. But is it possible something could’ve been done to Scully without her knowledge?”

The Gunmen sat in silence, thinking. “You would probably know better than us,” Frohike said.

“Has Agent Scully suffered any loss of time?” asked Byers. “Has she experienced an event recently where periods of time were unaccounted for?”

“Did she fall asleep in one place and wake up somewhere else hours later?” Langly asked. “Not knowing what happened to her?”

Mulder thought back to what was happening in their lives before his abduction, around the time the baby was conceived. There wasn’t a moment when Scully was missing, where he didn’t know where she was or what she was doing. “Well, what about Dr. Parenti?” he suggested. “Is it possible he was one of the doctors involved with these tests with the MUFON women?”

Byers glanced at his two companions, and then back at Mulder. “I suppose it’s possible, but there’s no mention of his name in any of Diana’s records.”

“But those tests were being done in Europe, Byers,” said Frohike. “I thought we already came to the conclusion tests must’ve been done here too.”

“Except we only found one site,” Langly replied. “And there was no record in North Carolina of Dr. Parenti working with those women at the Lombard Center for Reproductive Medicine.”

Mulder sighed. “What were the names of the doctors again?”

Looking down at one of the log books, Byers started reading. “Dr. Carl Oppenheim, Dr. Peter Jeffers, Dr. Mike Bennett, Dr. Joel Spitz, Dr. Ross Austin, and Dr. Kevin Scanlon.”

“And they were the same doctors on staff at the Lombard Research Facility in Allentown, Pennsylvania, correct?” asked Mulder. “With ties to the Department of Defense?”

The Gunmen nodded in the affirmative. “The doctors all received investment money from DARPA’s Advanced Biological Technology Office.”

He glanced at his watch, seeing that it was after 6:30 pm, and stood up. “Oh, geez. I completely lost track of time. I gotta get going. Listen, guys, see if you can find any records, anywhere, that Dr. Parenti has ties to the Defense Department.”

They agreed to find out what they could, and told Mulder they’d get back to him as soon as they found anything. He thanked them and then went out the door, before hailing a cab back to Georgetown.

*****

Scully paced the apartment in her sleeveless purple nightgown, wondering where Mulder was. She’d come home expecting him to be there, desperately hoping he was, but he wasn’t around. Assuming he was just at the YMCA again, she’d waited patiently and thought it wouldn’t be too long before he was back. But then the clock struck six o’clock and Mulder still wasn’t home. She called him, but her call went straight to voicemail.

A flurry of different emotions flooded Scully’s insides. She was angry Mulder’s cell phone would be turned off. She was one day away from being 33 weeks pregnant, and the man’s phone was fucking off. What the hell? And it wasn't the first time he'd left it off, having talked to him about it three times in the past two weeks. She was worried and slightly panicked, but knew those fears stemmed from his abduction and were most likely irrational. He was probably perfectly all right, and so wrapped up with playing basketball or out running that he wasn’t even thinking of the time. She was also so damn horny she thought she’d jump out of her skin. Her hormones had been surging all day, her clit in a dull state of arousal, her center becoming slightly swollen and wet as the day went on.

It was nearly 7:00 pm when Mulder walked through the door and hung his leather jacket on the coat rack, kicking off his shoes underneath it. The television was on, but Scully wasn’t in the living room. She wasn’t in the kitchen either.

“Scully?” he called out as he walked towards the couch.

She quickly washed her hands at the bathroom sink, after having to empty her bladder for what felt like the 20th time that day, and then walked out to the living room. “Oh, thank God.”

“I know, I know,” Mulder said, raising his hands to surrender. “I should’ve been home way sooner or… I should’ve called, and…”

“Yeah, yeah,” responded Scully, cutting him off. “We can talk about that later. I need you to get on the floor.”

He laughed. “What?”

She wasn’t in the mood for explanations or turning this into a conversation. She now felt raw, as if every nerve ending was exposed, and ached for some relief. “Just do it.” Scully grabbed onto his arms and started pushing him downwards, or at least trying to. Chuckling, Mulder lowered himself to sit down on the living room floor. She then started to lower herself down onto his lap, her hands going to his shoulders to push him until he was lying flat on his back.

Without hesitation, Scully’s hands went to Mulder’s belt, unbuckling it, before unbuttoning his blue jeans and taking the zipper down.

“I’m just a piece of meat to you, aren’t I?” he deadpanned.

“I’m sorry, but… in this very moment… yes, yes you are.”

Scully pushed his heather gray sweater and white undershirt up to his chest. While Mulder grabbed the hem and pulled them off, tossing them aside, her hands had gone to the waistband of his jeans, and lifting herself slightly off his hips, yanked the jeans down to his knees before straddling him again.

As she started to grind her center over his charcoal boxer briefs, Mulder’s hands went to her legs, caressing the soft skin of her thighs, and to her purple satin covered hips. “I could use some, uh, visual stimulation, Scully.”

She grinned at his waggling eyebrows, and unbuttoned the top four buttons of her nightgown, pulling her arms free, and pushed it down until her bare breasts were exposed. Mulder gazed up at them, round and full, her nipples larger and darker than they used to be. God, she was so gorgeous. He reached up and smoothed a hand over her chest, brushing his thumb over a nipple. Scully inhaled sharply with a hiss, and he pulled his hand away.

“Did that hurt?” he asked, worried.

“No,” she smiled. “Just really sensitive. In a good way.”

Mulder then raised both hands to her breasts, relishing their softness and the feel of their weight in his palms, rolling her nipples with his fingers. Scully moaned, and felt him begin to harden beneath her. She sighed, knowing her relief was imminent, and her hands frantically went to the waistband of his boxers. She tugged it down until his engorged cock sprung free, and then right away sunk down on him without preamble.

“Oh, my God, finally,” she moaned. He was big, and thick, and hard, and this was she’d needed so damn bad. “Oh, this feels so good.”

“Fuck, Scully.” She was so wet around him, she must’ve been waiting for him a while, and Mulder groaned in the back of his throat as she rolled her hips over him, taking his cock deeper. “Fuck, yes.”

He touched her everywhere he could reach, stroking his hands over her hips, along her sides, between her breasts, up to her throat. His left palm skimmed over her satin-covered belly, pausing at the wondrous sensation of movement within, and Scully looked down at him with hooded eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” Mulder breathed, and she moved her hand up from his chest to lovingly caress his face.

“So are you,” she whispered.

He reached with his right hand between their bodies, pressing his thumb to massage her swollen and throbbing clit, and almost immediately Scully felt the tension in her body that had been coiling tighter and tighter all day burst. She convulsed over him, moaning and whimpering his name. Mulder quickly followed, her thighs still trembling under his hands as he emptied his release inside her, his loud moans and her mewling pants filling the living room.

They were breathing heavily, their chests heaving, as Scully pulled her nightgown up, running her arms through and doing up the buttons.

“Mulder?”

“Hmm?” he sighed contentedly, his eyes closed, his arms collapsed on the floor next to him.

Scully leaned over as far as she could, placing her hands on the floor on either side of him, and spoke quietly. “If your phone is ever turned off again, I’ll murder you.”

His eyes flew open and he stared at her. She was smiling, and her tone of voice was sweet and nonthreatening. But Mulder didn’t let that deceive him, believing Scully meant exactly what she’d said.


	93. “It seems like you were acting very territorial.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tense Thanksgiving in Georgetown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depeche Mode – “Soft Touch/Raw Nerve”
> 
> Have I got a soft touch?  
> Have I got a soft touch?  
> Is my radar that off?  
> Is my radar that off?
> 
> I'm thinking  
> If you're sinking  
> Then I'll drown  
> I've got a confession  
> That your depression  
> Will take me down
> 
> Am I on the right track?  
> Am I on the right track?  
> Have I picked a bad time?  
> Have I picked a bad time?
> 
> It's seeming  
> That you're dreaming  
> With my eyes  
> But why protest  
> When your success  
> Is my prize
> 
> Oh brother, give me a helping hand  
> Oh brother, tell me you understand
> 
> Have I hit a raw nerve?  
> Have I hit a raw nerve?  
> Have I got a soft touch?  
> Have I got a soft touch?
> 
> I'm thinking  
> If you're sinking  
> Then I'll drown  
> I've got a suspicion  
> That your position  
> Is unsound
> 
> Oh brother, give me a helping hand  
> Oh brother, tell me you understand
> 
> Have I hit a raw nerve?  
> Have I hit a raw nerve?  
> Have I got a soft touch?  
> Have I got a soft touch?
> 
> Have I hit a raw nerve?  
> Have I hit a raw nerve?  
> Have I got a soft touch?  
> Have I got a soft touch?

_The Alien Bounty Hunter stared at him. “Pay attention, Agent Mulder. It is almost time to fulfill your destiny. When you are returned, you will have to act quickly. You gave him life, and gave up your own. And now you must see it through. That baby must be born. You must do everything in your power to make sure that happens."  
_

_What baby? He couldn’t think straight. The pain, once excruciating, was now a dull burning. He closed his eyes tight, trying to ignore the terrible utterances of the bounty hunter. He focused on a face. The only face he wanted to see, the only voice he wanted to hear. If only he could see her again, just one more time. And then the whirring sound of a machine was heard, moving closer to him, and his entire body tensed, knowing the pain it was about to endure once again.  
_

_But suddenly the threat of the whirring machine was gone, and Krycek was there, standing in the dark shadows, a menacing threat. “She must not have that baby. End its life and save your own. You can’t have both.”  
_

_No! He wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around Krycek’s throat and squeeze until he hears something snap.  
_

_Where Krycek had once stood, a sudden cloud of cigarette smoke now took his place. A voice spoke, chilling him to the bone, and yet causing a fiery rage to burn in his gut. “I’m here to protect my legacy. Unfortunately, that’s you.”  
_

_Cancer Man was then gone, and in his place stood his father. “Be the man I raised you to be. You know what to do. You’re a good man, Fox.”  
_

_But then he, too, was gone. Vanished. **No, Dad! Don’t go! Come back! Come back!**_

Mulder woke up, breathing heavily, drenched in a cold sweat. It was the second night in a row he’d had this same exact dream. He turned to his right, but Scully wasn’t in the bed next to him. He looked over at the digital clock on her bedside table, the red glow of the numbers telling him it was 4:27 am. On Thursday, November 23rd. It was Thanksgiving. Mulder then noticed the bathroom light was on, the door ajar, and a moment later heard the water running in the sink.

He sighed, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over the side, planting his feet on the floor. Images were starting to come back to him, the memories of what his life had been on the ship becoming clearer. He was starting to recall aspects of his time on board that ship that didn’t involve the mutilation of his body. Those memories as well as thoughts of Krycek, the Smoking Man, and even his own father started to run in circles in his head.

The door to the bathroom opened, and Scully walked back into the bedroom, looking surprised to see Mulder awake and sitting up.

“Did I wake you?” she asked.

“No,” he replied, and then sighed again. “You lied to me.”

Scully balked, her eyes widening. “What are you talking about, Mulder?”

He leaned over, entwining his hands. “You told me for years that you didn’t remember anything about your abduction. That was a lie, Scully.”

“How can you say…,” she said, and then paused, realization starting to dawn on her. She’d refrained from asking him about his experience, partly out of fear, partly because of how awkward things had been between them, partly because her horrific nightmares while he was missing told her everything she thought she wanted to know. “Are you remembering?” she asked quietly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, ignoring her question, staring at his hands.

She sighed. “I didn’t remember, at first. That wasn’t a lie. It was all… a blank, empty space. I had no memories.”

Mulder looked up at her. “At first. So, at some point you did remember. Right?”

“Scraps of memory starting returning to me,” Scully said. “Dreams. Memories, images, like puzzle pieces. More and more coming back over the years. But…” She paused, hesitating.

“What?”

She looked at him sadly, remembering. Mulder’s obsession with his work on the X-Files had reached an all-time high, and he was consumed with the government conspiracy. Her memories were coming back to her, memories of that train car, and she believed she’d been a victim of this conspiracy, of the government’s secret experiments on the American people. She’d believed she’d been taken by men. But, at the time, he’d been unwilling to hear anything that went against his belief of the involvement of extraterrestrials in the conspiracy.

“You weren’t ready to hear it.”

He sighed, and looked back down at his hands. Silence filled the bedroom.

Scully walked over to stand in front of him. “And when I began to piece those memories together, to get a clear picture of what had happened to me, and started to let go of my denial a little bit…” She sighed, pausing. During her cancer battle and recovery, she’d started to believe, but Mulder had lost his faith. Extraterrestrial life was the biggest of lies, he’d been told, a hoax, and they’d given her cancer to make him believe that hoax. He was a man lost at sea.

“You didn’t _want_ to know.”

She reached out, running her fingers through his messy brown hair, and spoke softly. “Mulder, are you remembering?”

He didn’t want to answer her. He couldn’t. Scully sat down on the bed next to him, her hand running down his forearm to insert itself between his. “Tell me about your dreams.”

“Maybe you’re not ready to hear it,” replied Mulder, entwining their fingers, and she sighed, hoping he would tell her eventually. “Scully, are you positive the last IVF failed?”

“Yes,” she said. “The baby wasn’t conceived with the IVF.”

He looked at her, searching her face for reassurance. “And you know the exact date he was conceived? Without a doubt?”

Scully smiled. “Yes. When you came back from England. I thought I already told you this.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said quietly, and then smirked at her. “You think that Buddhist temple did something to you?”

She chuckled. “I think it was you who did something to me.”

Mulder gave a breathy laugh, and glanced at her belly. “I really did that?”

“Well I helped,” Scully replied, grinning. “You weren’t the only one who came, if I remember correctly.”

He smirked at her as she yawned. Mulder then helped her get back into bed, situating the pillows underneath her and between her legs as she laid on her side with her back to him, before laying down next to her. He stared up at the ceiling, thinking.

“Scully?” he whispered.

“Hmm?” she answered, drifting to sleep, her eyelids heavy.

He swallowed. “How do you know the exact date the baby was conceived?”

She yawned again. “I’ve had many blood tests that calculate just how much a certain pregnancy hormone is present in my system, which indicates just how many weeks along I am. But there’s other practical ways of knowing, too.”

“Like what?” Mulder asked curiously, still looking up at the ceiling.

“Well, for starters,” replied Scully, her voice tired. “The IVF was done on March 20th. Two and a half weeks before the conception date. I’d be farther along if the IVF had worked. And if I take into account the next time we had intercourse after that first night you came home from England, then I wouldn’t be this far along, as it had been weeks later.”

His brows furrowed. “Weeks? Why would we have gone weeks without having sex?”

She sighed. “You had us stashed away in a shithole motel room, spying on the dregs of society outside that Dirty Dames strip club. Not to mention that during IVF, it was always off limits.”

Mulder searched his mind for the memory, frustrated that since he’d returned from the dead it took him a little longer to recall details, although it had been getting easier recently. He suddenly remembered that stripper with the blue-tinted jet black hair and running off to Vermont to work the Ellen Adderly case on his own. “Oh, right.”

“See? It’s easy to settle on the date.” Scully then gripped the pillow under her head tighter, and allowed sleep to pull her under.

He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling a little more at ease with her reassuring explanations. But then Mulder’s eyes flew open and he looked over at Scully, the soft sound of her snoring in the air, his eyes widening slightly. She had been missing. She’d gone off with Cancer Man, and was gone for two or three days. He wished he could remember precisely how long she’d been gone, but his mind couldn’t focus on it. Maybe he was too tired.

Mulder momentarily considered waking Scully up and interrogating her on what exactly had happened with the Smoking Man while she’d been gone; if it was possible he’d done something to her. But she would’ve told him if something like that had happened. And why would Cancer Man even want Scully to be pregnant? For what purpose? Just to do something nice for her? That was laughable. For his own evil ends? But why? Especially when every single test done on the MUFON women had failed? What would be the point in doing the same to Scully?

He laid there, tossing and turning, too much on his mind, until he eventually ended up pressed against Scully’s back, his hand moving to caress her belly. Breathing in her comforting scent, and with the baby kicking at his hand, Mulder was able to fall back to sleep, just as the sun started to rise.

*****

At precisely 12:00 pm on Thursday, there was a knock on Scully’s front door as she was placing the turkey into the oven, a task she’d found more difficult than she’d imagined. She couldn’t wait until the baby came and the soccer ball in front of her would finally deflate. As Scully closed the oven door, there was another knock. She sighed and left the kitchen, glancing into the living room where Mulder was watching the NFL pre-game show.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” she quipped, smirking at him. “Wouldn’t want you to break a sweat or anything.”

Apparently he didn’t hear her, or pretended not to, because he didn’t reply, and she opened the front door to see the Lone Gunmen standing there. Langly and Byers had laptops in their hands, and Frohike stood there smiling with his hands behind his back.

“Hi guys, come on in.” Scully backed away from the door, letting them walk through. They greeted her warmly, and Frohike then produced a bouquet of purple and yellow flowers. “Aww, Frohike. Thank you. That’s so sweet of you.”

“Peruvian lilies,” he said. “Thought you might like them.”

She smiled. “They’re beautiful.”

Mulder stared at them. “Nice flowers, Melvin.” The Gunmen looked over at him, sitting on the couch in front of the television, a large bowl of potato chips on the coffee table in front of him, and stared in silence, slightly surprised over his tone of voice, ripe with annoyance. “What’re you fellas doin’ here?”

The Gunmen glanced at Scully. “She invited us,” Langly told him.

“Oh, I see,” he said, nodding. “Scheduling play dates for me now, huh?”

She sighed and rolled her eyes, turning to walk away into the kitchen, the Lone Gunmen following her. Scully opened a cabinet, pulling out a vase, and then started to fill it with water.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Byers quietly.

“He woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” she replied dryly, before sighing. “He’s okay. He’s, uh, he’s just been through a lot. It’s not easy. What he’s had to deal with. Why don’t you guys head in there and cheer him up? Beer’s in the fridge.”

They grinned at her, and after grabbing four bottles of Shiner Bock, they joined Mulder in the living room, handing him a beer.

He sighed. “Thanks.” He then turned on Frohike. “Bringing Scully flowers, huh? I’m surprised you didn’t dress up in a suit and comb your hair.”

Langly chuckled from where he sat on the couch next to Mulder and Frohike glared at him, before turning to their friend. “I just wanted to do something nice for her. What bug crawled up your butt?”

Mulder smirked, and turned to look over his shoulder, making sure Scully was still in the kitchen, and turned back to the Gunmen. “Find anything on Dr. Parenti?”

“He’s one of several medical directors for Zeus Genetics in Germantown, Maryland,” Byers replied. “Zeus Genetics receives funding and grants from the Defense Department for genetic research. But there are no records that Dr. Parenti is directly involved with the research projects backed by the DoD.”

“Those medical directors,” said Mulder. “They have any ties to the Lombard Research Facility, to any of those Syndicate doctors?”

The Gunmen shook their heads. “There’s nothing to indicate that Dr. Parenti or anyone else at Zeus Genetics ever had any contact with anyone from Lombard,” answered Langly.

He sighed. He didn’t know who to blame, or thank, for this pregnancy. He hated the uncertainty. He hated not knowing the truth. He hated that blocks of his own memory of what happened to him were still gone. He hated that he’d been taken away from Scully when she’d needed him the most. He’d lost so much, and there was the ever-present threat he couldn’t completely shake from his mind, that he could lose more.

Just before 12:30, another knock was heard at the door. Mulder turned his head to watch Scully walk out of the kitchen to answer it, wondering who it could be. As her hand grabbed the door knob, he had an overwhelming feeling that he knew exactly who was on the other side of the door. He frowned, and looked back at the television.

“Agent Doggett,” Scully said, smiling. “Thanks for coming.”

“Here, these are for you,” he said, stepping across the threshold, handing her a small bouquet of flowers. “My mother always told me to never go anywhere empty handed. It was either this, or bottle of wine. And I assumed you weren’t drinking right now.”

She smiled as he grinned at her, taking the bouquet of pink and white flowers. “Thank you. I love chrysanthemums.”

Mulder glared in his direction. Fucking flowers? Unbelievable.

Doggett nodded. “And it’s John. We’re not at work.”

“Right,” she said, before turning back to the kitchen to get another vase.

He looked into the living room, where Mulder was sitting on the couch, staring at him, unamused. Doggett sighed and followed Scully into the kitchen.

“I get the feeling Mulder doesn’t want me here,” he told her.

“What makes you say that?” she asked, placing the flowers into the vase.

Doggett crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. “I’ve seen Lebanese sandstorms friendlier than the look I just got.”

She sighed. “He’s not having a good day today.”

“Why? What’s going on?” He turned towards her, concerned.

“I think he’s still having flashbacks,” Scully replied. “Or, I think maybe his memories are coming back to him.”

He nodded. “I can appreciate what he’s going through. A couple Marine buddies of mine suffered from PTSD pretty bad. It wasn’t until about six months after they came home when they started feeling normal again. Just give him some time, Dana. He’ll be all right.”

She smiled, and encouraged Doggett to grab a beer from the fridge and join the guys. He did as Scully suggested and walked into the living room, until he was standing stiffly at the end of the couch. Mulder sat there, with Langly, the one with long blond hair, in the middle between him and Byers, the guy with a beard. They each had a laptop open on the coffee table. The little one, Frohike, sat in a chair on the end of the couch next to the bearded one. The Gunmen greeted Doggett, smiling.

“Agent Doggett,” Mulder said. “Have a seat. Game’s about to start. Lions and Patriots.”

“Thanks.” He nodded, sensing the insincerity in Mulder’s voice, and sat down in the chair next to Frohike.

Mulder looked over at Doggett, sipping his beer. “So, Scully tells me it’s been a slow week since you got back from Texas. But I guess you were still recuperating from the concussion and couldn’t pursue any cases.” He wondered if he would ever get over his impulse to mess with people’s heads. Probably wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

Doggett stared at him, fighting a smirk. “It’s never slow in the basement.” He took another sip of his beer. “So… how’s Dana doing?”

He stared at Doggett, pursing his lips over the casual use of Scully’s first name. “You’re the one who’s with her all day long.”

The Gunmen glanced from Mulder to Doggett, and then looked at each other, slightly shaking their heads. Byers fought back a grin.

“You’re right,” Doggett replied matter-of-factly. “I am.”

Mulder sighed at his smug tone and turned his attention back to the TV, but not before noticing the ‘you sorry son of a bitch’ stare that Bill Jr liked to always lay on him. Jesus. Bill Jr. He suddenly wondered how Scully’s brother was dealing with the fact Mulder had knocked up his sister. He suppressed the urge to burst out laughing at Bill Jr’s own personal nightmare.

It then became a guys’ afternoon in at Scully’s apartment. Football, beer, bravado, and bullshit filled her living room. She purposely kept to the kitchen, cooking and setting the table, listening to the sounds of the television and their conversation, smiling to herself.

At one point, Doggett got up and excused himself to use the bathroom.

“It’s the second room in the…,” Mulder started to say.

“Yeah, yeah. I know where it is.” Doggett then left the living room, walking into the hallway.

He stared after him, glaring at Agent Doggett’s apparent familiarity with the layout of Scully’s apartment, wondering just how often the man had been inside the place. Two minutes later, Doggett returned, and just as Mulder was about to make a caustic remark, asking him if the bathroom towels were the same color as the last time he’d been in there, his thoughts were interrupted.

“Check this out, Mulder,” said Langly, who then started reading an article on the internet. “‘The NSA and Microsoft will be announcing the creation of a partnership for the purposes of homeland security. Microsoft will develop monitoring programs to assist with increasing anti-terrorism initiatives.’ Just read between the lines. Microsoft is going to have the power to create programs that spy on every man, woman, and child in this country.”

“That’s illegal,” Doggett said.

Frohike turned to his left, and looked at the agent now running the X-Files. “Since when did that ever stop the government?”

Doggett scoffed, shaking his head. “It’s unconstitutional. No government agency has the legal right to spy on American citizens. A judge would need to sign off on a warrant for each specific individual. No agency will ever have the right to perform an indiscriminate, blanket surveillance on the American public. Congress would never sign off on that.”

The Gunmen looked at Mulder, who then looked over at Doggett. “Never say never.”

“The FCC is so frantic about national security, they’re probably going to look the other way,” said Langly. “The Senate Sub-committee on Technology and Terrorism is so bogged down with red tape, Microsoft will have already created and installed the monitoring programs before Congress even receives the final report. Frohike has a better chance at getting a date than Congress does of ever finding out what the NSA is really up to.”

“I’m laughing my ass off over here,” Frohike said, glaring at his friend. “But I can just see the headline on the national news. ‘Microsoft and NSA Conspiracy Abolishes American Freedom.’ It’ll probably end up an X-File.”

Doggett chuckled. “Unless Bill Gates ends up taking away everyone’s social security, leave me out of it.”

Langly snorted with derision. Mulder thought it was just like old times. Except Agent Doggett was the one he was snorting at.

Byers sat back against the couch, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. “Every email you type. Every phone call you make. Every cell phone tower you pass. Every web site you visit. Every piece of mail you route. Every purchase you make with a credit card. It will all be in the hands of the NSA. They’ll know everything. About everyone.”

“All in the name of national security,” said Frohike.

“For our own protection,” Langly added, his voice full of scorn.

“Never gonna happen,” Doggett responded, arching a skeptical eyebrow.

Mulder turned to look at him. “How do you know it hasn’t happened already? They’re preparing.”

The Gunmen stared at Mulder. “Preparing for what?” asked Doggett, mockingly. “Terrorist attacks? The government wouldn’t need to spy on American citizens to prevent terrorism.”

“They’re preparing for the shit-storm of all time,” he replied, before taking another sip of his beer. Mulder looked over at Doggett, and caught the man studying him. He wanted to say something else, perhaps make a dig that he’d fit right in with the NSA, ask him if Scully’s apartment would be the first place he’d want to personally stake out. But fuck it. Mulder had lost the urge to harass him.

Doggett had the sense that the conversation was veering towards that alien invasion shit, and so he started talking about the football game on the TV.

*****

At 3:45 pm, there was another knock on Scully’s door, and Mulder got up to answer it. On his way to the door, he glanced into the kitchen where Frohike was helping Scully take the turkey out of the oven. He then opened the door to see Assistant Director Skinner standing there.

“Hello, sir.”

“You can drop the sir, Mulder. I’m not your boss anymore.”

He nodded, and after thankfully noticing that the man didn’t have any flowers, he stepped aside from the door. “Come on in, Walter.”

Skinner smirked at him as he stepped inside, and then hung his brown leather jacket on the coat rack. Fifteen minutes later, they all sat around Scully’s dining table in her kitchen for Thanksgiving dinner. Scully, getting the impression the six men around her table weren’t inclined to hold hands and share their deepest feelings, decided to forgo her family’s tradition. Skipping grace and sharing what they may have been particularly thankful for that year, they simply started dishing up the meal.

With the exception of Doggett, Scully believed that the rest of them most likely all felt thankful for something similar. And as she dished out some Brussels sprouts onto her plate, she looked at Mulder, sitting crosswise from her at one head of the table, and smiled. She then passed the bowl of roasted sprouts to him, and he winked at her. They both knew what they were especially thankful for.

The group around the table then began a casual conversation about memories over the past year, but Mulder got quieter and quieter as they began to recount tales of events that had happened in his absence. Skinner and Doggett also used the name ‘Dana’ way too much for his liking. The Gunmen and Doggett discussed Anthony Tipet, the Eye of Providence on the dollar bill, and the Hindu belief of a third eye. Mulder noticed the agent wasn’t too enthusiastic about this subject, and was eager to move on to another topic.

Soon, they all decided to tease Scully with tales of just how bad her morning sickness had been for a couple months over the summer. She rolled her eyes and laughed as they each recounted a time when a vehicle had to come to a screeching halt on the side of the road, or an airplane barf bag had to be frantically reached for, or the time the Gunmen came by Scully’s to take her out for ice cream. They picked her up in their van and introduced her to their new assistant, Jimmy Bond. On the drive back to Georgetown from the ice cream parlor, she puked all over poor Jimmy in the back seat. The Gunmen were thrown into a fit of laughter over the recounting of this story, as Scully blushed and shook her head, chuckling.

Mulder didn’t want to listen to this. The world hadn’t stopped turning when he’d been taken on that horrid spaceship. Life had gone on without him around. He felt ridiculously jealous all of a sudden, that Skinner and Doggett and the Lone Gunmen were privy to a time in Scully’s life that he would never truly know about. They shared memories and experiences with her that he would never understand on the same level, because he hadn’t been there. He’d missed out on the first months of his son’s life, Scully being seven months along when he reentered the picture. It wasn’t fair. Anger burned in his gut. Jealousy burned in his chest.

Skinner looked directly across the table at Mulder, took in the morose expression on his face. “So, how’re you doing these days?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Mulder replied. “I’m alive and no longer living in a coffin, so I’d say I’m pretty damn good. But I’m sorry that I can’t contribute to this part of the conversation, seeing as I wasn’t around for any of this.”

The others at the table noticed the bitterness to his tone, and briefly froze, looking at him. Scully reached her right hand underneath the table, giving Mulder’s knee a comforting squeeze.

Skinner sighed. “Mulder, none of us truly knows what this has been like for you. None of us can hope to know what you experienced while you were gone. You were dealt a really shitty hand. No one can deny that. Just because we know what Scully went through doesn’t mean that we’ve forgotten about what you’ve been through.”

“Give me a little credit, _Walter_ ,” replied Mulder, trying to keep the derision out of his voice. “Do you think I want a pity party? You think I’m interested in having a contest over who got the most raw deal? Besides, I think all of us at this table are pretty fucked up, in our own special ways.”

Scully sighed. Doggett, who sat next to her and crosswise from his boss, shook his head, closing his eyes. The Gunmen stared at Mulder, with a mixture of puzzled and incredulous looks on their faces. He gave them a slight smirk in return. Skinner stared at him from the other end of the table, feeling some things probably needed to be said.

“Mulder, I don’t think anyone can truly explain what it was like for Scully when you were gone,” Skinner said. “Except for her. But I get the feeling she’s probably kept that mostly to herself, allowing you to deal with your situation.” He paused, and Mulder looked over at her. She met his gaze and sighed, giving him sympathetic look, searching his face. And then Skinner continued. “And it’s not like you just ditched her and ran off on one of your wild goose chases, hypothetically in trouble, hypothetically in danger. You were gone, Mulder. For good. And then you were dead.”

“But not really, though, huh?” he quipped dryly. “And I’ve never believed that it was anything but difficult for her.”

Skinner gave him a stern look. “No, you’re just determined to make things even more difficult for her now. Breaking into the Federal Statistics Center, almost getting yourself killed. Then running off to the Gulf of Mexico, almost getting yourself killed. A poor way to repay Scully for everything she suffered in your absence, everything she went through to find you, to keep the X-Files open.”

Mulder chewed on his bottom lip, heaving a sigh through his nose. “I know. You’re right.” He didn’t need to hear this. He didn’t need to be reminded. Scully’s devotion to him had always been obvious, and her love for him was just as apparent as the delicate gold cross she was wearing around her neck. He never doubted either of those things.

Scully cleared her throat and stood up from her chair. “So… who’s ready for some pie? I’ve got pumpkin and apple. There’s vanilla ice cream, too.”

The men all turned their attention to her, staring with slightly amused expressions as she started to walk away from the table.

“I think Walter and John would love a slice of your pie, Scully.”

She spun around just as she’d reached the counter, and stared at Mulder with a reddening face, unamused. After giving him a sarcastic look, she turned back around and started dishing up dessert. The Gunmen fought hard to keep themselves from laughing, resolutely avoiding eye contact with Mulder. Doggett looked at him, brows knitted with confusion. Skinner's expression was all too familiar, like a parent about to lose his patience with a petulant child.

*****

Just after the clock struck 6:00 pm, Doggett and Skinner left, sincerely thanking Scully for the invitation, and telling Mulder to ‘take care of himself.’ The Gunmen remained behind for a little while, helping her clean up the kitchen, but they too were gone by 6:45.

Scully thanked them for coming, and shut the door behind them. She turned and looked at her partner, standing in the living room facing the door. “God, Mulder…,” she said as she walked away into the kitchen. “You can be such a shit sometimes.”

“Yeah, but you love me anyways,” he retorted, following her.

She sighed, filling up her kettle with water. “Hmm,” she muttered noncommittally.

He grinned at her as she moved to place the kettle on top of the stove, putting the burner on high. They then spent a quiet evening on the couch together, watching TV and not saying much. At 10:00 pm, they made their way to Scully’s bedroom. Mulder was sitting up in bed, wearing his glasses and opening the book _Native American Beliefs and Practices_ he’d pulled from the bookcase, starting with chapter one: “Ancient Pueblo Peoples,” as Scully walked out of the bathroom in her blue satin pajamas.

After helping her into bed and with arranging her pillows, Mulder returned to the book. When the digital clock on her bedside table told her it was almost 11:00, Scully sighed.

“Mulder, I really need to get to sleep,” she said. “I’m exhausted. And I’ve got Quarterly tomorrow.”

“Ugh,” he replied, once again feeling incredibly thankful he no longer worked for the FBI. “All right. I’m turning the light off.” Mulder folded the top corner of the page down to mark his place, and set the book down on his bedside table, before removing his glasses and placing them on top of the book. He turned off the light and laid down, staring up at the ceiling. He didn’t want to go to sleep. In his dreams, they were there in his mind, incessantly speaking cruel words, things he didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to know, afraid they’d do far worse than just talk to him.

He momentarily thought about leaving the bed, not wanting to disrupt Scully’s need for sleep, and spending an insomniac night on the couch. But Mulder didn’t want to leave her and the baby. He wanted to be with them. He’d already spent way too many nights away from them.

“Scully?” he casually said in a low voice. “What was it like?”

She blinked her eyes open, and turned to see him staring up at the ceiling, his arms folded across the soft cotton of his black t-shirt.

“What was what like?” she asked. Scully thought that it seemed he’d now invited her into a conversation that had already been happening inside his head, and she tried to guess what he was referring to.

Mulder shifted, rolling over onto his side, and pressed his chest into her back, wrapping his arm around her and resting his hand on her satin-covered abdomen. “Finding out you were pregnant. What was it like in the hospital when they told you? I would’ve given anything to see the look on your face.”

She smiled. “It was… strange and wonderful. I was stunned. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. So I did both.”

He chuckled, and leaned closer to nuzzle her cheek.

“I wanted to be able to tell you,” said Scully. “I was so excited. I couldn’t wait until you walked in the door and I could tell you the news. I wanted to see the look on your face so badly. But then Byers and Langly came to see me. And… and they told me.”

Mulder felt hot tears prick his eyes, and guilt flooded his stomach. He wished with every fiber of his being he’d never gone back to Oregon. He should’ve been there when she needed him the most. He knew she didn’t blame him. But he wished he could forgive himself.

He pulled his face back from hers, and looked down, his forehead brushing against her red hair. “Scully,” Mulder said in a low voice, and she got the sense that he was trying to hide. “I’m sorry. I wish I’d been there. I don’t want them to…” He sighed. “I can’t… I can’t let it happen again. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here with you. Always.”

Scully wished he’d stop apologizing. She wished he’d stop blaming himself. She didn’t want to sound exasperated with him, so she refrained from speaking. Mulder slowly started to stroke her belly, up and down, his hand warm through her pajamas. The baby kicked her, and Mulder’s hand stilled. She watched the sad expression on his face turn to excitement, and he smiled. Scully silently thanked her baby, and he kicked even harder, as if in response.

“Did you feel that?” asked Mulder, his eyes wide with awe.

“Funnily enough, yes,” replied Scully dryly. “Yes, I did.”

He chuckled. “Do you think he’s gonna be a basketball player? Or maybe baseball? Way more money in baseball.”

She rolled her eyes, grinning at him. “As long as he’s happy and healthy, I don’t care what he does.”

“Scully…,” he said after a pause. Something had been gnawing at him ever since he’d started reading that _What to Expect_ book, bothering him that he’d missed out on so much of her pregnancy. “Would you want to have another one?”

“Another what? Baby?” she asked incredulously, looking at him with wide eyes. They hadn’t even begun to figure out how she got pregnant in the first place.

He shrugged. “Yeah, why not? It’s obviously not impossible. This one happened.” Mulder sighed. “It’s just… I’m really starting to like this whole pregnancy thing, and it’s almost over.”

She smiled at him sympathetically. “Well, why don’t we see if we can survive this one first before we start considering another one.”

Mulder nodded and leaned over, kissing her gently, the baby kicking even harder at his hand. He then shifted again to lie on his back. “I’m sorry I was such a shit today.”

“That’s okay,” Scully breathed, closing her eyes to sleep, and then yawned. “I love you anyways.”

He smiled, and just a few minutes later he was sound asleep, snoring softly.


	94. "What about your family?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully have a serious conversation over breakfast. Sort of. He doesn't want her to take risks while preparing for the baby's arrival, and she doesn't want to answer her family's questions. Scully doesn't want to compete with a book for Mulder's attention.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.
> 
> Sidenote #1: OMG OMG THE X-FILES IS COMING BACK, YOU GUYS!!! 
> 
> Sidenote #2: I seriously can't believe this story now has over 10,000 hits. I'm shocked over this. I never would've imagined that in a million years when I started this thing. Thank you all for reading, for your generous kudos, and lovely comments. You have no idea just how much it all means to me! Thank you, thank you, thank you! : )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aqualung - "Brighter Than Sunshine"
> 
> I never understood before  
> I never knew what love was for  
> My heart was broke, my head was sore  
> What a feeling
> 
> Tied up in ancient history  
> I didn't believe in destiny  
> I look up, you're standing next to me  
> What a feeling
> 
> What a feeling in my soul  
> Love burns brighter than sunshine  
> Brighter than sunshine  
> Let the rain fall, I don't care  
> I'm yours, and suddenly you're mine  
> Suddenly, you're mine  
> And it's brighter than sunshine
> 
> I never saw it happening  
> I'd given up and given in  
> I just couldn't take the hurt again  
> What a feeling
> 
> I didn't have the strength to fight  
> Suddenly, you seemed so right  
> Me and you  
> What a feeling
> 
> What a feeling in my soul  
> Love burns brighter than sunshine  
> It's brighter than sunshine  
> Let the rain fall, I don't care  
> I'm yours, and suddenly you're mine  
> Suddenly, you're mine
> 
> And it's brighter than the sun  
> It's brighter than the sun  
> It's brighter than the sun  
> Sunshine
> 
> Love will remain a mystery  
> But give me your hand  
> And you will see  
> Your heart is keeping time with me
> 
> What a feeling in my soul  
> Love burns brighter than sunshine  
> It's brighter than sunshine  
> Let the rain fall, I don't care  
> I'm yours, and suddenly you're mine  
> Suddenly, you're mine
> 
> I got a feeling in my soul  
> Love burns brighter than sunshine  
> It's brighter than sunshine  
> Let the rain fall, I don't care  
> I'm yours, and suddenly you're mine  
> Suddenly, you're mine  
> And it's brighter than sunshine

On Friday morning, November 24th, Scully walked into the kitchen to find Mulder standing at the counter pouring boiling hot water into her tea mug.

“Good morning,” Scully said as she made her way over to sit at the table.

“Morning,” replied Mulder, before walking over to set her mug of herbal tea down in front of her.

She watched him as he placed the jars of raspberry jam and peanut butter on the table along with the tub of butter, milk gallon and two glasses, and finally two small plates with English muffins. She smiled at him as she spread the jam over her toasted muffin. “It’s so nice to be waited on.”

He nodded, smiling, as he poured them two large glasses of milk. “I really am sorry about yesterday.”

“I know,” Scully replied, taking a sip of her tea. “Well, you certainly got a normal and traditional Thanksgiving.”

“That was normal?” asked Mulder, staring at her with raised eyebrows.

She smirked at him. “Nothing says holiday tradition like bickering around the dinner table.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “There wasn’t any bickering at your mother’s house last year.”

“That’s because Bill Jr wasn’t there,” she said dryly.

“Yeah,” he replied with a breathy laugh, and took a bite of his peanut butter-covered English muffin. His eyes then widened, as he remembered his train of thought during the previous afternoon that he’d spent with the Lone Gunmen and Doggett in Scully’s living room. He swallowed, and then cleared his throat. “So, what did Bill Jr say to you when he found out about the baby? I bet he was absolutely thrilled.”

Scully sighed. “He’s never said anything to me about it. But…” She paused. She tried to remember those days spent at her mother’s house when she’d returned from Montana, but it was difficult to grasp hold of the memory. “Bill Jr did come out here a few months ago and… I think… I think we all stayed at my mother’s house. I think Tara came, too. But I don’t remember if the kids were there or not. The family told him, I guess. And yeah, I don’t… I don’t think his reaction was too positive.”

Mulder gave her a puzzled look, watching her brows knit together in concentration. “You think? You don’t know?”

“Well… I’d just gotten back from Montana,” she replied. “Somehow. I don’t remember the flight. Mom got me at the airport. I think Bill Jr was there, or Charlie. Hmm… maybe both of them. I think I stayed at my mom’s house for a few days. I don’t remember much. My mind has blocked most of it out. My body sort of went into survival mode, I guess.”

“Oh.”

He tried to imagine himself in her shoes, of their places being reversed, of finding her naked body in some Montana woods, mutilated and dead. Mulder wouldn’t have survived such a thing. He most likely would’ve eaten his gun. He had no idea how Scully had survived it. He suddenly felt a wave of gratitude, not only towards the Scully family, but also this mysterious pregnancy. He had little doubt the baby had saved her, gave her a reason to live.

“What would you have told the kid about me if I’d never come back?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“But… you did come back,” she replied, taking a sip of her milk. “You can tell him everything yourself.”

Mulder suppressed a sigh. “Scully.”

She considered him a moment. “I would’ve told him that you were… good, and bad. Courageous, and afraid. Incredibly intelligent, but sometimes an idiot. Honest, but didn’t hold back from lying when necessary. Well-liked and a joy to be around, and yet you sometimes alienated people.”

He chuckled. “Sometimes?”

Scully grinned, and then went on. “I would’ve told him… that no matter how much evil there was in the world, you still always tried to look for the good in others, without prejudice or judgment. That you were a lover of the Knicks, the Yankees, and the Redskins. That the day I walked into your basement office my life was changed forever, and despite the fluke worms, liver-eating mutants, alien viruses, abductions, cancer, late-night stakeouts, red eye flights, and dirty, flea trap motel rooms, I wouldn’t change a single day.”

“Never tell the kid about those motels,” he quipped. “It’ll scare him.”

“I would’ve told him…,” She then paused, feeling a lump grow in her throat, and reached her hand out across the table to hold Mulder’s. “How much you loved your sister, and how hard you tried to find her, save her. And… that you would’ve done everything in your power to be a part of his life if you could have.”

Mulder sighed. “He would’ve hated me as he got older, Scully. Kids never understand why someone who loved them would leave them. I never understood… my parents.”

He thought of his mother and father, and while physically there, they had certainly abandoned him emotionally after Samantha’s abduction. But although his mother remained aloof, even up to her death, his father had tried to reach out as best he could. Mulder remembered the Indian Guide trips with his dad, the Camaro for his 16th birthday, the visits they took together to various colleges and universities his senior year in high school, the celebratory dinner when he got into Oxford. Even that god-awful Thanksgiving with Diana and her mother. While unbearably awkward to have his parents in the same room together, he knew that his father had agreed to come for Mulder’s sake.

He found that he understood his dad much better than before. To have lost a daughter because of the choices he had made must’ve been torture for his father. Mulder was on the verge of becoming a father himself, and now found he was worrying that the choices he had made would somehow adversely affect his son. Now, more than ever, he wished his dad was still alive, still a phone call away.

Scully squeezed his hand. “I would’ve helped him to understand that you hadn’t known about him. That… nothing would’ve prevented you from being in his life if it were possible.” She then paused and stared down at the table for a moment, before speaking quietly. “Mulder, I never want to have this kind of discussion with my son.”

He looked at her, and then spoke words of reassurance, words that he found he didn’t quite believe, his mind filling with unsettling doubt, even though he hoped they were true.

“You won’t.”

*****

On Sunday, November 26th, Scully drove to Alexandria to attend Mass at St. John’s Church with her mother. She knew she’d felt awkward and uncomfortable about attending before, but since Mulder had returned and their relationship had gotten back on track, she had regained a lot of her pride and confidence. She walked into church with her head held high.

As expected, her mom had nagged her about the baby’s gender. The fact she was keeping this information to herself had proved to be an irritation to her family members. The Scullys weren’t ones for secrets. Both her mother and her sisters-in-law often laid traps, trying to get Scully to divulge whether she was having a boy or a girl. They’d ask her what color she was going to paint the nursery, whether they should buy children’s books about toy trucks or fairy princesses. They’d ask her what names she’d picked out. But Scully had yet to crack under the pressure, much to their annoyance.

They also asked her other questions, which she didn’t feel much like answering. They wanted to know what exactly was going on with her and Mulder. Scully had let it slip that he’d mentioned getting his own place when she’d first brought him home from the hospital. Now her mother often asked whether he was still looking for an apartment, or if he’d be staying with her permanently. Tara, Jennifer, and her mom would ask her if she and Mulder were going to get married. Scully would just quickly change the subject. They wanted to know when she was going to leave the X-Files, and what was she going to do for work after the baby was born. She knew that deep down, her mother and brothers wanted her to go back to medicine. Scully had also kept those decisions to herself.

But because there were questions about this pregnancy that she couldn’t possibly answer, the things that she did know, the things she had no doubt of, she wanted to hold onto, keep close to her chest. Scully felt unwilling to share them just yet, regardless of how much she exasperated her family.

After going out for Sunday brunch with her aunt, Olive Scully, cousins Fiona and Colleen, and her mother, where they all interrogated her about the baby, Scully walked through her apartment door just before 1:00 pm. Mulder wasn’t there. She supposed he went out for a run, or was playing basketball, or maybe went to see the Lone Gunmen. After changing into a pair of black leggings and Mulder’s old Knicks t-shirt, she walked into the soon-to-be-nursery, and got down to work.

It was just after 2:00 pm when Mulder arrived back at the apartment after a couple hours of shooting hoops at the YMCA, and when he found Scully in the guest room he wanted to kill her.

“Scully, what the hell are you doing?” he demanded. She was standing on a chair she’d taken from the dining table, her hair held up in some elastic, a hammer in her right hand, putting up shelves on the wall.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she retorted.

Mulder heaved a sigh through his nostrils. “Get down off that chair. Right now.” Without waiting for a reply, he walked quickly over to her, his arms going around her, and as she snaked one arm around his neck, he picked her up and set her down on the sand-colored carpet.

“Scully, you should know better,” he said. “What if you fell?”

She gave him an indulgent look. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting a little bit, Mulder? It’s just two shelves.”

His hands went to his hips, disapproval written all over him, and his voice was stern. “I told you I would do it.”

“I was bored and wanted something to do,” Scully shrugged. “You’ve already put together almost everything in here. I don’t wanna be left out of all the fun.”

“Bored?” he responded dryly. “You risked falling off that chair and hurting yourself… because you were bored.” Mulder sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He then opened them and looked around the room. “Anyways, you won’t miss out on all the fun. Now that the bassinet is set up, and the crib, fingers crossed it won’t collapse, and the dresser, now you get to go shopping and find a bunch of stuff to fill this room with.”

A wide grin spread across her face. “You wanna go shopping with me?” she asked excitedly.

Mulder blinked at her. “Can’t… can’t you get your mom or Jennifer or one of your girl friends to do that?”

“What makes you think I have friends other than you?” She smirked at him, teasing.

“Please don’t make me go shopping,” he pleaded eyes wide, his brows furrowed.

Scully laughed. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

He smiled, and after grabbing the dining chair, he turned to walk out of the room. “I’m gonna take a shower. Oh, is there any of your mom’s lasagna left?”

“Yeah, I’ll heat it up.”

She then walked into the kitchen as Mulder made his way into the bathroom. On Saturday afternoon, her mother had brought over her famous lasagna. It had been weeks since Scully had seen her mom, as she had gone out to stay with Bill Jr and Tara and her three grandkids shortly after Scully had brought Mulder home from the hospital. Her mom had safely arrived home late on Friday night, and at 4:00 pm yesterday she’d come knocking on Scully’s apartment door, pan of lasagna in hand and more questions about the baby.

Mulder walked into the kitchen, pulling his white cotton undershirt over his head as he came in, just as Scully was taking the ceramic plate out of the microwave. She set it down on the table, before retrieving a fork and napkin for him, as he sat himself in the dining chair he’d removed from the guest room. He sighed contentedly at the generous piece she’d cut from Mrs. Scully’s glass baking dish, and then dug into his lunch.

“So, you should go shopping, Scully,” he said after taking a bite of the lasagna. “Let me finish with the shelves. Take your mother out. Go do… I don’t know… girl things. Take yourself to get a pedicure. Or a manicure. Take your mom out to a movie or something. Go buy baby stuff.”

“And who said chivalry was dead?” she quipped. “Mulder, I can honestly handle the shelves. I’ll just end up with holes in the wall if you do it."

He threw her a sarcastic look.

"I'm sorry, but I don’t trust you with a hammer and nails. Something tells me it’s been a while since you hammered anything. You have to hit it just right, and forgive me if I don't think that's possible.”

He waggled his eyebrows at her. “You didn’t have any complaints last night.”

Scully fought hard to suppress a grin, but failed. “Fine, you do the shelves.”

*****

Early on Monday evening, the phone started ringing just as Mulder was about to start on the third chapter of _Native American Beliefs and Practices_ , “The Anasazi – An Entire Native American Indian Culture Vanishes Without a Trace – History as myth and end of the world symbolism. Apocalypse and The Sixth Extinction.” He put the book down and reached for the cordless phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Agent Mulder, it’s John Doggett.”

He sighed. “I’m not an agent anymore.”

Doggett paused. “Oh, right. So… how’re you holding up?”

Mulder paused. Had he seriously called just to shoot the shit? “Oh, you know, I’m still gainfully unemployed.”

“Listen,” Doggett sighed. “Let me talk to Kersh. I’ll tell him I asked you to help me with that case. I’ll tell him I needed your expertise… that the X-Files needs someone qualified to run them.”

“He’s not gonna buy that,” replied Mulder. “My career with the FBI is over.” Scully and the kid needed him around. Besides, he’d been out of work for a week and he honestly didn’t miss it at all.

“But the X-Files mean everything to you,” Doggett said.

Mulder sighed. “At one time, that was true. But not anymore. There’s only one X-file I’m interested in now, and I don’t think I can protect her by pursuing case leads in the basement of the Hoover Building.”

Doggett paused, not quite knowing what to say to that. Did Scully need protection? He quickly thought back to what had happened in the hospital, with that Alex Krycek character. Maybe she did. “So… what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” said Mulder. “Do you think Miss Cleo’s Psychic Hotline would give me a job?”

He chuckled. “Your ideas might be too crazy for them. Anyways, can I talk to Agent Scully?”

“Nope, she’s not home yet,” Mulder replied. “You wanna leave a message?”

“Uh… nah, that’s okay,” said Doggett. “Just tell her I called. But it’s really not urgent. I can talk to her tomorrow morning about it.”

“All right.” Mulder then hung up the phone, and glanced at the clock. It was 5:47 pm. Scully had told him that she was going to the car wash and the dry cleaners after work, so he wasn’t surprised she hadn’t come home yet. Knowing she’d probably be too tired to cook, he got up from the couch, slipped on his shoes by the coat rack, threw on his jacket, and walked out the door.

Thirty minutes later, he’d arrived back at the apartment with a takeout bag from Filomena’s. Mulder set it down on the counter as Scully walked out of her bedroom and joined him in the kitchen.

“Hey,” she said.

He smiled as he looked at her, in her blue satin pajama pants and top. He hadn’t seen her since the night before, as she’d dressed and left for work before he’d even gotten out of bed. Mulder had tossed and turned through the night in a fitful sleep, full of unsettling dreams that he didn’t want to remember.

As she approached him at the counter, he turned towards her and bent his head down to capture her lips, his arms going around her back, his hands caressing the soft material that covered her body. Scully hummed contentedly against his mouth, her arms moving up to wrap around his neck. She then broke the kiss.

“I missed you,” Mulder whispered, rubbing his nose against hers.

She smiled, and pulled her face away from his. “What’d you get from Filomena’s?”

He gave her a blank stare, blinking. “That’s all you have to say? I tell you how much I missed you all day, how much I couldn’t stop thinking about you, how much I want to ravish you until you can’t possibly come anymore, and you ask about the food.”

“You didn’t say all that,” Scully retorted, giving him a sarcastic look and a smirk.

“It was implied,” Mulder deadpanned. “Maybe we should just forgo dinner until I get the greeting I deserve.”

She pursed her lips, and showed him a carefully arched eyebrow. “You can’t wave a bag of hot Italian food under my nose and then not deliver the goods. You’re putting your life in your own hands.”

He chuckled. “Okay, okay. Wouldn’t want you to pull another gun on me.” Mulder then started unpacking the Filomena’s bag. “How does eggplant parmesan sound?”

“Delicious,” replied Scully.

Later that evening, they sat beside each other on the couch, almost touching. Mulder was glued to the chapter on the Anasazi, occasionally bringing his hand up to his face to adjust his reading glasses. Scully soon lost interest in the television and her gaze kept being drawn to Mulder's profile. She found herself staring at his jawline, ear, nose, and the way he'd occasionally chew on his lower lip as he concentrated on something. She turned slightly, and her right hand reached up to the back of his neck, her fingers brushing through his hairline.

"Are you going to read all night?" Scully asked quietly.

He tore his eyes away from the book just as he was about to begin chapter four, “The Anasazi Miracle Children: Nayénezgání, Slayer of Alien Gods, and Haséyadóbá, She Rises to End War,” and looked over at her. She was licking her lips and her pupils dilated. Mulder closed the book and set it down on the coffee table, before removing his glasses and setting them down also.

She grinned as he sat back against the couch and turned towards her. His hand came up to her face, and Mulder ran his forefinger along her jaw and up to her mouth, tracing her lips. Her heart started pounding, and the baby started kicking.

Scully kissed his finger and watched his hazel eyes, green with swirls of light brown and flecks of gold, turn a darker shade. He bent his head, pressing his lips to hers, gently, and they relished the feel of the other, warm and soft and firm.

Soon they were breathing heavily, their hearts pounding, and Mulder pulled away, resting his forehead against Scully's. His right hand moved slowly down to her satin pajama top, his fingers going to the top button and pulling it free. He methodically worked down the blue satin, unfastening each button slowly.

Mulder reveled in the sight of Scully's chest heaving with anticipation. As his hand spread the top open, revealing her bare breasts, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the couch. His eyes gazed over her soft creamy skin, the round fullness of her swollen breasts, the new darker mauve color of her nipples, the cool air of the apartment causing them to slightly stiffen, down to the perfect roundness of her abdomen, like a scoop of French vanilla ice cream.

He smiled, mouth parting, and then recaptured her lips, kissing her softly, taking his time, in no need to rush. Mulder broke the kiss and gazed at Scully. "I love you, you know," he whispered. She smiled, and her hand caressed his cheek. He then resumed kissing her, deeply, tenderly.

His mouth finally left hers, and traveled over her face, down her neck. His hand swept across her breasts, feeling their weight and heat. "So warm," Mulder whispered, and Scully's head fell back once again. He then bent down and captured a taut nipple in his mouth.

Scully gasped, her back arched, and she thrust her hands into Mulder's hair. His mouth at her breast made every nerve ending sing. The muscles in the pit of her stomach tightened, more wet desire pooled at her center. He suckled her greedily, his tongue flicking her sensitive hardened bud, and laving it tenderly.

Mewling pants issued from Scully's throat in a steady stream as he released her nipple and moved to give her other breast his attention. His hand slid down her abdomen, caressing the warm, taut skin of her belly, smiling as the baby kicked at his hand, before sliding underneath the elastic of the satin pajama pants. Finding the soft cotton beneath the satin, Mulder quickly moved past this barrier until his hand found more of Scully's warmth, his fingers sinking into the coarse hair curling at her apex.

She touched him as his mouth worked over her breast, as his hand made its way towards her wet, swollen center. Her fingers sunk into his soft hair, her other hand moved across his shoulders, down his back, feeling the way his muscles moved beneath his navy blue sweater. She could feel Mulder's heart beat racing against her.

Scully needed to kiss him and pulled Mulder's face from her breast, bringing his mouth to hers. They kissed passionately, tongues meeting to stroke and caress. After breaking the kiss to breathe, he rested his forehead against hers. His fingers freed themselves from her curls, and slid down into her soft folds, hot, swollen, and slick with her juices.

"You have no idea how good this feels," Mulder said in a low voice, his fingers languidly gliding through her center, down to her entrance and up to brush against her hardened bundle of nerves. "Oh, Scully,” he breathed. “I wanna make you come."

She whimpered and her hand moved to grip his shoulder as her head lolled and fell backwards. His index and middle fingers gathered her wetness, moving up to circle her swollen clit. He then deftly moved with purpose, knowing how she needed to be touched, and in less than 30 seconds, her thighs clamped down on his hand.

"Oh my God, Mulder!" Scully moaned through her orgasm, pleasure streaking out from her throbbing center, across her brain, and her back arched off the couch as much as her pregnant belly allowed her to.

His fingers immediately left her swollen clit, allowing her time to come down from her high and her sensitive nerves to recover. Mulder moved his fingers down to her entrance, his painfully engorged cock throbbing at the wetness of her orgasm, before removing them from her center and bringing them up to his mouth, licking them clean of her juices. He hummed, growled softly, telling her without words just how delicious she tasted.

Scully whimpered, her eyes darkening even more, and that was all the encouragement Mulder needed to return his skilled fingers to her center. She rose up, and then lowered herself against his hand, anything to bring more sensation, stimulation, to the pleasurable tension coiling tight once again. His fingers slid down to her entrance and felt the heat at her core, before pushing deep inside and curving to stroke the sweet spot embedded in her front wall.

Mulder’s ministrations focused on that small, sensitive spot, but she felt them tingling through her entire body, from her fingertips to her toes. She felt as though every nerve ending was enflamed. His thumb then reached out to her clit, rubbing in firm circles. It immediately throbbed anew, and she was crying out with another intense orgasm, her hand moving to grip his hair in her fist.

The front of Mulder's jeans bulged with his erection, tantalizing, and Scully licked her lips as he moved back against the couch, pulling his hand from her center, once again tasting her on his fingers.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, and he smiled, his arms going around her, holding her to him, as his lips passionately devoured hers. She wanted to return his attentions, to taste him, to make him feel just how loved he was.

Scully’s hand went to the top button of Mulder’s jeans, and she tugged it free. He then felt her soft, warm hand slide down the front of his jeans, stroking his hard length through his boxer briefs. Mulder hissed, and his arms gripped her tighter.

“Scully…” he breathed, breaking the kiss.

“Let’s go to bed,” she whispered.

When they reached her bedroom, they lay down side by side, kissing passionately for some minutes, before Scully pushed on Mulder’s shoulder until he laid flat on his back. She pushed his sweater and white undershirt up and over his head, tossing them to the floor. She kissed his forehead, licked the shell of his ear, suckled on his Adam’s apple. She ran her hands up and down Mulder’s sides as she kissed his chest, teased his sensitive nipples.

After sliding his blue jeans down his narrow hips, her tongue darting out against his stomach, she whispered “Up,” as her hands went to the waistband of his charcoal boxer briefs. Mulder raised his hips, and soon the jeans and boxers, along with his socks, were also tossed to the floor to join his other clothing.

“I want…,” she whispered.

“What do you want? Anything, anything…”

Lying on her side next to a heavily breathing Mulder, Scully focused her attention on what she craved. His cock was erect, hot, and thick, and its engorged head glistened with wetness. Her mouth watered. She then slid down the mattress, to align her upper body with his pelvis.

“Scully… you don’t have to do that,” he breathed, and a rush of blood sent his cock throbbing despite his halfhearted protest. “Come back up here.”

“Mulder, haven’t you learned by now that it’s never a good idea to stand between a pregnant woman and her cravings?” She smirked at him, and then resumed her attention away from his face.

He chuckled, and then moaned as she slowly used her fingertips over him, drawing them over the sensitive skin of his balls, and up and down his rigid length. The sounds coming from Mulder’s throat made Scully smile, and she kissed his stomach as she wrapped her fist around his cock and began to pump him.

“Ohh,” breathed Mulder, as his hips arched slightly off the mattress.

She could feel his eyes on her, fiery with lust, as she licked her lips and greedily took him into her mouth. He tasted warm, salty, and distinctly Mulder. Scully’s eyes rolled in the back of her head and she moaned against him, eliciting a moan from Mulder’s throat, and his hand sunk into her hair. She laved the head of his cock with her tongue, and fondled his balls with one hand while her other stroked his thick shaft up and down. Mulder moaned her name over and over.

Soon Scully felt herself shaking with need for him, wanting his cock and his fingers and his tongue. Her clit throbbed and ached once more. She moved to sit on her knees between Mulder’s legs. Balancing herself with the one hand grasping his cock, mouth still working over him, her left hand crept between her legs. Her fingertips brushed over her clit, and she moaned.

“Fuck, Scully, what are you doing?” said Mulder, as if a warning. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”

She hummed over him and he groaned, eyes rolling. His hand left her hair, and his fingers dug into the mattress, gripping the sheets. Scully felt every moan shiver through his body, and she moaned in response. She closed her eyes tight, colors dancing behind her eyelids, her middle finger rubbing her clit in circles, and then she came again. Her body shuddered over Mulder, her moans vibrated around his hard cock.

It proved to be too much for him, and explicit words of passion fell from his lips, cursing, and moaning her name. Mulder’s legs went rigid and his body arched off the mattress, his fingers clenched the bed sheets, and then he was coming. His hips thrust into her mouth and she swallowed his release, her finger still working languidly over her clit to prolong her own orgasm as much as possible.

Their orgasmic tremors subsided, and after licking him clean, Scully lifted her mouth from his cock and moved up lie down at Mulder’s side. He gathered her into his arms and she stretched herself out beside him, her leg curling over his hip and her palm resting on his chest, still slightly heaving.

He placed an exhausted kiss on Scully’s forehead. “Do you think all this sex is good for the kid?”

She snorted. “What’s good for me is good for him. Besides, he has no idea what we’re doing. But he does get all those feel-good hormones and chemicals firing in my brain. He’s a happy baby right now.”

Mulder smiled, and reached out to caress her belly. Less than 10 minutes later, after Scully finally got comfortable with enough pillows supporting her back and between her legs, they both drifted off to sleep.


	95. "Because no one gets there alone."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder goes with Scully to an OB/GYN appointment for the first time. She then takes her maternity leave and finds it harder to leave the X-Files behind than she expected. Mulder and Scully attend their first Lamaze class.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from the episode "Alone" does not belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Frank Spotnitz, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christina Aguilera - "On Our Way"
> 
> Me and you, we're different  
> Don't always see eye to eye  
> You go left, and I go right  
> And sometimes we even fight  
> That don't mean that I won't need a friend  
> You and me, we're in this 'til the end
> 
> I think we're on our way  
> Through all the lows and highs  
> I need you by my side, singing  
> I think we're on our way  
> To better days, better days  
> Let's say we turn the page  
> Move on from all the times  
> Should've laughed, not cried, feeling  
> What is there more to say  
> I think that we're on our way
> 
> Together, we'll weather  
> Many storms as family  
> That bond is forever  
> It can take almost anything  
> The love I feel for you grows everyday  
> The more we get to learn from our mistakes
> 
> I think we're on our way  
> Through all the lows and highs  
> I need you by my side, singing  
> I think we're on our way  
> To better days, better days  
> Let's say we turn the page  
> Move on from all the times  
> Should've laughed, not cried, feeling  
> What is there more to say  
> I think that we're on our way
> 
> Someday, soon, I'll need advice  
> Hope you're there to shed some light  
> And maybe one day, you'll be wanting mine  
> And we can be there for each other
> 
> I think we're on our way  
> Let's say we turn the page  
> Move on from all the times  
> Should've laughed, not cried  
> What is there more to say  
> I think that we're on our way  
> I think we're on our way  
> Through all the lows and highs  
> I need you by my side
> 
> I think we're on our way  
> To better days, better days  
> Let's say we turn the page  
> Move on from all the times  
> Should've laughed, not cried  
> What is there more to say  
> I think that we're on our way

On Thursday morning, November 30th, Mulder drove Scully to Capital Women’s Care for her 8:15 appointment with Dr. Bajaj. The short drive to downtown DC was a quiet one, both becoming increasingly nervous. They grew even more nervous as they sat in the small waiting room. Once inside an exam room, Mulder sat by Scully’s side as she laid on a raised exam table, holding her hand as they watched the ultrasound monitor. The technician, a young man in his late 20’s with blond hair and glasses, applied some lubricant, and then ran the probe over her rounded abdomen.

“Okay, Dr. Scully, here you go,” the tech said, as the machine buzzed to life, the screen blinking.

There was suddenly a black and white image of their baby on the screen as well as the sound of a rapid, muffled heartbeat filling the room, and Mulder’s eyes widened as he held Scully’s hand tighter. She smiled at him, and then turned back to the monitor.

“We’ve got a nice, round head,” the tech said, pointing to the screen. “Ten little fingers and ten little toes, nicely shaped arms and legs. And here’s the genital area. Oh! Looks like you’ve still got a little man here. At least his anatomy is male, but of course his life choices will be his own to make.”

Mulder and Scully briefly exchanged puzzled looks and then turned back to the monitor. He then cleared his throat. “How’s his, uh…?” he asked, raising his pinky finger and slightly bending it. She rolled her eyes as the technician chuckled.

“I’m sure it’s just fine,” the tech replied, before turning back to the screen.

The basic scan was soon complete and the technician departed, after taking several ultrasound pictures, telling them the doctor would be right in. About five minutes later, Dr. Bajaj entered the room and greeted them, before sitting down to perform the ultrasound herself, rechecking the vital information.

“I’m getting 4.75 pounds and 18 inches for his measurement,” the doctor said. “That’s good for 34 weeks. His fat layers are filling him out, making him rounder. His skin looks smoother than ever. Also around the 34th week, his central nervous system is maturing as well as his lungs. And just so you know, in case you have any worries about preterm labor, babies that are born between weeks 34 and 37 usually do just fine if they have no other health problems. A short stay in the neonatal unit might be required, but they typically do just as well as full-term babies.”

They nodded at the doctor’s positive words as they gazed at the monitor, and Scully watched her son’s mouth open and close, his fists clench and unclench. “Do you think he’s yawning?” she asked out loud.

“Well, I’m sure it’s awful boring in there,” Mulder deadpanned, and Scully snorted, rolling her eyes.

Dr. Bajaj smirked. “There’s no definitive study that proves whether babies yawn in utero or not, but… they probably do.”

Scully watched her son’s face and thought he looked beautiful, even in the grainy, black and white image. But her worries started to surface. “And… and he’s healthy? He’s… normal?”

As his eyes flew to Scully, she resolutely refused to look at Mulder. For all his own worries and fears about where this pregnancy came from, and Krycek’s insinuations about the baby, he’d never spoken of them with her. And if Scully had any fears and anxieties herself, she hadn’t shared them with him.

“Yes, everything’s good,” Dr. Bajaj replied, smiling. “There are clearly no physical deformities, and your most recent blood work was excellent. You’re in perfect health. Your baby is in perfect health. It’s a blessing. So enjoy it, because there’s really nothing for you to worry about.”

Mulder gazed at the monitor, at the image of his son. A healthy baby boy. A blessing. Was that what this pregnancy was? A blessing? An answer to their prayers for a miracle? He so badly wanted to believe the baby had come about naturally, without some unknown, sinister interference from others.

Dr. Bajaj then glanced between the soon-to-be parents. “We just got this new ultrasound machine on Monday. So watch closely. This is the really fun part.”

With a flip of a switch, the flat image on the screen turned three-dimensional, and there it was in almost perfect clarity, their baby boy. Scully immediately began to cry as a huge smile broke out on Mulder’s face.

“He’s so beautiful,” she said through her tears.

“He’s got your nose,” said Mulder, gazing fixedly at the screen. “Thank God.”

She chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with your nose.”

He looked over, smirking at her. “Well, just as long as he gets my hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” asked Scully, giving him an incredulous look.

“Nothing, your hair is beautiful,” he replied. “But come on. You’re a beautiful woman. Red hair on a guy, though…” Mulder paused, his face scrunching. “No offense to the Scully men, of course.”

Scully rolled her eyes, snorting, and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Dr. Bajaj then turned away from the monitor to look at her. “Now, let’s talk about you. Around this week, fatigue will probably start to set in again.”

She nodded. “I’ve been a little tired, but it’s nowhere near the same as the coma-like intensity during my first trimester.”

“Well, an increasing amount of tiredness now will be completely understandable,” the doctor said. “Given the physical strain you’re under, carrying around an extra 25 pounds and supporting a tiny human being. I’m also sure it’s getting more difficult for you to sleep through the night, due to tossing and turning while trying to get comfortable as well as frequent trips to the bathroom to urinate.”

Her eyes widened as she nodded in agreement, and she glanced over at Mulder, who was still staring at the 3-D image of their son on the monitor. “Yes, I’ve had some restless nights. But overall, I’m feeling great. And I was thinking of staying on at work for another week or two, maybe starting my maternity leave sometime after the 8th.”

Mulder turned from the ultrasound screen to look at her, as Dr. Bajaj pursed her lips. “Dr. Scully, I really must insist that you start your maternity leave as soon as possible. I know you’re feeling great right now, and that’s wonderful, but you know this hasn’t been an easy pregnancy for you. Now is the time to slow down, and save up your energy for labor… and mothering a newborn.”

She sighed, and looked over at Mulder, meeting his gaze. The look he was giving her told her that he agreed with the doctor. Scully then turned back to address Dr. Bajaj. “I’ll start my leave right away.”

“Good, I’m glad,” the doctor replied. “Important to remember when getting extra rest is that if you’ve been lying down or sitting for a long time, don’t get up too quickly. Blood can pool in your legs and feet, causing a temporary drop in your blood pressure that might make you feel dizzy. Also, since you won’t be working, and you’ll have a little more time on your hands, now is a good time to come up with a labor contingency plan. You also should be keeping up with your kick counts.”

Dr. Bajaj saw the puzzled look on Mulder’s face, and then explained. “Twice a day, she needs to be timing how long it takes to feel 10 distinct movements, whether the baby kicks, twitches, or his whole body turns around. There should be at least 10 movements every two hours. Usually it doesn’t take nearly that long to count 10, but if you don’t count 10 in two hours, you need to call me right away.”

After confirming Scully’s appointment for the following Friday, Dr. Bajaj left the room, and a few minutes later Mulder and Scully were walking out of Capital Women’s Care with ultrasound pictures and the knowledge that their son was healthy. Once they’d stepped onto the empty elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor, the doors closing, Mulder turned towards Scully and pulled her against him, one hand moving up her back to sink into her soft hair and the other caressing the warmth of her rounded belly. He leaned over, capturing her lips, and kissed her deeply, passionately, joy spreading through their veins like wildfire.

*****

After leaving Capital Women’s Care, Mulder drove Scully to FBI headquarters, dropping her off, and after driving around the block, eventually found a parking space. Once she’d stopped by Human Resources, Scully made her way down to the basement office. She grabbed a small cardboard box from the back, and walked over to her desk, which had once belonged to Mulder. She picked up the framed photograph of Samantha, and after gazing at it for a moment, placed it inside the box. She also cleared the desk of the alien coffee mug that Mulder had gotten her for her last birthday, which she’d grumbled and rolled her eyes at, but it had quickly grown on her. She fondly remembered the giddy look on his face the first time she’d sat at her table in the back sipping her coffee from an alien’s head.

After opening the drawers, Scully removed Mulder’s nameplate, setting it inside the box. She opened the top desk drawer and found the Apollo 11 keychain he had gotten her for her 33rd birthday, smiling at the memory of sitting with him at The Headless Woman’s Pub in downtown DC, as he goofily chewed on a straw and sang “Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully” in monotone, clapping long after the waiting staff had left the table.

She then picked up the fused dime and penny, and smiled, but still unable to recall exactly where it had come from. Mulder hadn’t known either. Also in the top desk drawer was Queequeg's old bone-shaped collar tag, and she smiled sadly, remembering poor Queequeg’s fate. Agent Doggett then entered the office.

“Agent Scully,” he said, greeting her.

She quickly concealed her sadness and smiled brightly at him while he hung his trench coat up on the rack by the door.

“Can I take your coat?” he asked.

“I'm not staying, Agent Doggett. My doctor told me to take my maternity leave. In fact, she insisted on it.”

Doggett nodded, and walked towards her. “That's not bad, Agent Scully, you could use some time for yourself.”

She took the keychain out, before picking the box up from the desk and walking towards him, handing him the gift Mulder had given her.

“What is it?” asked Doggett.

“It's a medallion commemorating the Apollo 11 space flight,” Scully replied. “I'd like to give this to you, Agent Doggett.”

He looked at it. It was about two inches in diameter, with a gold edge. It had a picture of the moon surface with an eagle touching down, and the earth in the distance. “Thanks. Because?”

Scully felt emotion tug at her. “Agent Mulder gave it to me a few years back. It symbolizes teamwork, partnership.”

Doggett looked at the reverse side of the keychain. Inscribed were the words ‘Commemorating Apollo 11 and its mission to the moon. July 1969.’

“It means no one gets there alone,” continued Scully. “And after this past year and everything that we've been through, it just…” She paused and felt a lump grow in her throat as tears pricked her eyes. “I wouldn't be here without you.” She stepped towards Doggett to embrace him, and they hugged for a moment. After pulling away, Scully nodded a couple times, as she felt the need to brace herself to walk out of the office, and then started walking towards the doorway.

“Agent Scully,” Doggett said, calling for her attention, and she turned around to look at him. “This pregnancy leave… it's just a leave, right? I mean, you are coming back eventually?”

Scully gave him a warm yet wistful smile, knowing full well she wouldn’t be back but unable to tell him so, and walked out the door. Once she walked out through the employee entrance, she called Mulder’s cell phone, and a minute later he was pulling up to the curb out front.

On Friday afternoon, December 1st, after meeting the Lone Gunmen for lunch at Clovis & Charley’s diner in downtown DC, Mulder returned home to Scully’s apartment. The previous afternoon, she’d called and gotten a spot in the Lamaze class being held on Fridays from 1:00 – 3:15 pm at Metro Maternity and Birth Center for the next four weeks. She’d then asked him if he would be willing to go with her, if sitting in a birthing center with other pregnant women and their partners for two hours every week was something he’d be willing to do. He’d teasingly hemmed and hawed, and then smirked at her annoyed expression.

“Hey,” said Mulder, after he opened the door to see Scully approaching, closing it behind him as he walked over the threshold. “Ready to roll?”

“Yeah. I'll just get my keys.”

As she turned towards the table, he stepped over to the couch. “Hey, don't forget this,” he said as he picked up a pillow and stuffed it under his heather gray sweater. “Relax the back. Breathe in, breathe out.” He then made panting noises. “Hee, hee, hoo. Hee, hee, hoo.”

Scully walked back over to him, arching a suspicious eyebrow. “How do you know all these things, Mulder?”

“I'm unemployed,” he replied. “I have a lot of time on my hands. Oprah. I watch a lot of Oprah.”

She forced herself not to roll her eyes, seriously doubting this Oprah explanation and believing Mulder had actually read more of her pregnancy and childbirth books. “Thank you for doing this with me.”

As if he wouldn’t have. But he refrained from saying so as he saw the expression on her face. “What's the matter?”

“I don't know, I, uh, maybe it's hormones or, I just, it's just… I'm just feeling so strange about all this.” When she’d woken up that morning, Scully had started on her normal morning routine, planning on another day in the basement office, but as she’d stood at the bathroom sink brushing her teeth, she remembered that she’d started her maternity leave and she probably wasn’t going to step foot in that office again. The X-Files no longer had Mulder, and now she was gone too.

“This… having-a-baby this?” guessed Mulder, glancing down at her belly.

She shook her head. “No, no, leaving work, I guess. I mean, I… I walked out of that office feeling like a deserter.”

“You paid your dues there, Scully. _More_ than paid them.” He noticed she avoided his eyes, and looked worried. “You're concerned about Agent Doggett?”

“You know, the entire time that I was down there I had someone to watch my back,” she said. “He was a much better partner to me than I ever was to him.”

He sighed, unable to imagine a better partner to have. “I find that hard to believe, Scully.”

She put her hands on her hips, and averted her eyes. “It’s true, Mulder. And now I’ve left him down there in the basement, all alone.”

“I'm betting that Agent Doggett can take care of himself,” he replied. “He's a big boy. You gotta worry about the little boy.” Mulder then smiled, glancing down at her rounded abdomen again.

Scully gave him a half smile in return, and after he helped her slip on her jacket, they left the apartment.

*****

Mulder noticed that Scully was quiet on the way to Lamaze class. He sensed that she felt her responsibilities were pulling her in different directions. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d rather be at work with Doggett than going to Lamaze with him. She’d been enthusiastic when she had asked him to go, and while he wasn’t surprised she wanted him there with her, he also wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d wanted Mrs. Scully to actually go instead. The closer they got to the birth center’s location on K Street NW, Mulder became increasingly nervous, hoping he would prove himself useful to Scully in the class, hoping she wouldn’t regret not asking her mother instead.

Once they’d parked the car, Scully and Mulder walked towards the entrance of Metro Maternity and Birth Center, and as they moved towards the front doors, she felt his hand take its natural spot on her lower back. God, how much she’d missed that when he was gone. She’d never truly appreciated just how many small things he did to assure her of his affection, support, and protection until he wasn’t around to assure her anymore.

When Mulder crossed the threshold of the birth center and was ushered into a large room, with a floor covered by scattered blue and pink yoga mats, plastic chairs, and walls covered with posters, he stopped and stared. Over the years, he’d had a thousand dreams and fantasies about Scully. Most were sexual, and some were so shockingly raunchy his face would redden guiltily the next time he laid eyes on her. But some fantasies weren’t sexual at all, and were so bland they might’ve been even more embarrassing than the sexual ones. How many men daydreamed of hanging out in a Laundromat folding laundry with the object of their desire?

After he took in the room, and the five other pregnant women with their husbands or boyfriends, Mulder turned to his partner. “Scully, in all the years we’ve known each other, did you ever once imagine the two of us standing in a room like this?” he asked dryly.

She started giggling. “Never.”

“Oh, good, glad it wasn’t just me,” Mulder quipped.

She giggled some more, lowering her head and holding her belly as her shoulders slightly shook. Not long after, they were instructed to join the group and a moment later Mulder found himself sitting behind Scully on a pink yoga mat. The Lamaze instructor, a middle-aged woman with shoulder-length black hair streaked with silver greeted the class.

“Hello, moms and dads-to-be. My name is Joyce Pilet, and I’ll be teaching the Friday Lamaze class in December. I also currently work as a mid-wife here at the Metro Birth Center as well as a nurse practitioner for the Capital Women’s Care office in Fairfax, Virginia.”

She then told the group to introduce themselves. One by one, the couples, who all looked at least a good 10 years younger than Mulder and Scully, all said their names, what they did for a living, and stated what baby this was for them. It was the first pregnancy for all of the other couples. And then it was their turn.

“Hi, I’m Dana and this is my partner, Mulder,” said Scully, pointing her thumb behind her, suddenly feeling very nervous with everyone’s eyes on her. “Uh, this is my first baby also. I’ve worked for the FBI as a special agent for the last 11 years, and once my maternity leave is up I’ll take the Lead Forensic Pathologist position at Quantico and I’ll also be teaching classes at the FBI Academy. And, uh, Mulder is… an Oxford-educated psychologist and, um… a retired FBI agent.”

“More like a fired FBI agent,” he deadpanned.

Her face turned slightly red as the other Lamaze classmates stared at them with wide eyes.

The only other redhead in the room, a young woman named Arlene who worked as a teacher’s aide in a preschool, flashed them an excited smile, her large brown eyes widening. “Wow! Like that _Profiler_ TV show?”

“Not exactly,” answered Mulder, while his partner had only smiled tightly and shook her head. “Maybe if you crossed _Profiler_ with _Close Encounters of the Third Kind_.”

Scully stared resolutely in front of her, not really wanting to see the looks on the other classmates’ faces at such a statement. Joyce the instructor then addressed the class once again.

“Lamaze isn’t just about hee-hee-hooing your way through labor and delivery,” she stated. “This class is to help you become comfortable and at ease with your body’s natural ability to bring life into the world. Childbirth hurts like hell, there’s no getting around it. But knowledge is power. This class will help you to become more attuned to your contractions so that you will be able to know what is happening inside your body, so that you’ll be less tense when labor begins. Muscles that are relaxed hurt a lot less than muscles that are tensed. I want you all to be confident about what is going to happen to you in a few short weeks. Just as a woman’s heart knows how and when to beat, her lungs to inhale and exhale, so she knows how and when to give birth. Your bodies were made for this. I want you all to have that confidence.

“Now, Dad, it is your job to help Mom relax as much as possible. Throughout this class we’ll be watching various videos of breathing and relaxation techniques as well as films to help prepare you for the reality of both a home birth and a hospital delivery room.”

Mulder looked around and noticed the faces on the other fathers didn’t even turn slightly green at the prospect of watching childbirth videos. He then scooted closer up to Scully, and gently pulled her back against him as Joyce the Lamaze Instructor inserted a video on relaxation into the VCR. Mulder felt confident that Scully was more than capable, not only as a doctor but as a strong woman, to handle childbirth and didn’t necessarily need him in order ‘to relax.’ She probably already knew exactly what her body was going to go through, at least the medical knowledge of it. But as she rested against his chest, he saw that her posture was no longer so stiff, and she contentedly sighed as her head leaned back against his shoulder. It felt good to Mulder to see that she might need him a little bit after all, and he pushed his arms up around her, resting his hands on her belly.

“I’m sorry if this is torture for you,” whispered Scully.

“What are you talking about?” he replied. “This isn’t so bad. But of course, we haven’t actually watched these videos yet. I might change my mind later.”

She chuckled under her breath, and moved her hands to rest on top of Mulder’s. He tried to imagine himself in the delivery room, holding Scully’s hand as she endured labor, but it was a difficult image to conjure up. He glanced around at the other, younger men in the room, all seemingly at ease with their upcoming role as father to a perfectly normal, non-miraculous infant. Mulder frowned as he watched the video, wondering just how helpful he could really be to Scully when the time came.

Once the 15-minute video ended, Joyce turned to the class and began to describe massage techniques for the birth coaches to use to help the mother feel more comfortable during labor. The couples were then instructed to change position so that the mothers were lying on their backs on the mat. As Scully shifted in front of him, her elbow hit Mulder in the ribs, and he gasped.

“Fuck!”

It had been muttered under his breath, but loud enough for everyone in the room to have heard him. Mulder looked over to see all the other couples staring at him, some nonplussed and others unamused, and he wondered if there was some rule against cursing in front of pregnant mothers that he was unaware of. Scully blushed, her face reddening furiously, and she breathed an apology to the air in front of her as she resolutely stared straight ahead and not at any of the other couples.

Mulder then suddenly thought of his habit of saying the word ‘fuck’ when he was with Scully. But of course, most of the time he moaned this word when they were together. ‘Oh, fuck, Scully’ … ‘Fuck, yes’ … ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ She’d chuckle against his neck, or moan in return, or she’d whisper back a deep, throaty ‘Yes’ that only made him thrust his cock into her harder. He wondered how many other men’s thoughts turn to their sexual habits while sitting in Lamaze class. Was that normal? But then again, Mulder had never been one to judge what was normal or not.

If he couldn’t get his shit together in this class, how was he going to be able to concentrate in the delivery room and do everything Scully needed him to? Maybe her mother should’ve come to this thing instead. Maybe it would be better if Mrs. Scully went into the delivery room with her and he just waited outside, like the useless fathers in those 1950’s black and white movies who, for some strange reason, were never allowed to watch their child being born.

Towards the end of the class, as Joyce the Lamaze Instructor was going over the different contractions and levels of pain to be expected, Scully rested back against Mulder, smiling as his hands rubbed her arms and shoulders. He stared down at her belly, where their child was currently resting temporarily, knowing that in about six weeks the kid would be turned out of his safe home inside Scully’s womb and pushed out into the dangerous world. A scary prospect for any parent, for any child, but despite Dr. Bajaj’s assurances as well as the multitude of medical tests Scully had had done over the course of her pregnancy, Mulder still wondered if the world would be a more dangerous place for his son than for others. He still wondered if the kid was the real deal, and not something else that he didn’t want to guess at.

Mulder leaned his head down until his mouth was at Scully’s ear. “Are you scared?” he whispered.

“No,” she whispered back confidently.

“Really? Why not?” His brows furrowed as his expression became somewhat puzzled. He sure felt a little scared.

Scully turned her head towards his face, until the tip of her nose brushed his. “Because you’ll be there with me.”

Mulder closed his eyes, and leaned his forehead against hers. Maybe there was nothing to be afraid of as long as they were together.


	96. "I may not have the X-Files, Scully, but I still have my work. And I still have you. And I still have myself."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Agent Doggett goes missing on a case, Scully finds it even harder to leave the X-Files behind and Mulder steps in to help out. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from the episode "Alone" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Frank Spotnitz, and belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lia Ices - "Love Is Won"
> 
> Oh you know I need your mystic mind  
> For you are leading us towards the un-blind  
> We know that magic is a part of life  
> Oh love is won when we are not bound by time
> 
> When we have animals, we'll start a tribe  
> You'll be the shepherd as we all head towards the un-blind  
> Fell into the fault and now we feel too deep  
> Oh love is won when we're bound and still feel free
> 
> A puzzle planted on the forest floor has grown tall by now  
> Forever is asleep it is a tiny jewel in the tiger mouth  
> I'm walking in the woods, I'm looking for the one  
> And I'm about to pounce so I can tame the cat  
> So I can find the myth and let forever out
> 
> I could fall into a valley so low  
> Oh love is won when we don't need free to grow  
> We can go higher says your mystic mind  
> Unbind the time and go on up towards the un-blind
> 
> A puzzle planted on the forest floor has grown tall by now  
> Forever is asleep it is a tiny jewel in the tiger mouth  
> I'm walking in the woods, I'm looking for the one  
> And I'm about to pounce so I can tame the cat  
> So I can find the myth and let forever out

On Friday afternoon, after taking Scully home from Lamaze class, Mulder went for a run at Howard University’s outdoor track. He’d managed to make it up to five miles before he had to stop, as his chest burned and he panted heavily for breath. When he’d first returned from his abduction, he’d only made it to one mile before pain had ripped through his chest. Since getting fired, on the days he’d spent at home, other than working on the nursery and doing a lot of reading, he’d worked on getting back into fighting shape. He usually alternated between spending his afternoons playing basketball and running, either at the outdoor track or around Scully’s neighborhood.

After walking off the track and making his way to Georgia Avenue, Mulder hailed a taxi back to Georgetown, where he had the driver drop him off at the corner of P Street NW and 31st Street. On the corner, next to the Georgetown Presbyterian Church, was Maxwell’s Food Store, a small independent grocery that had been in business since the late 1940’s. Once he stepped inside, Mulder was greeted by the friendly elderly owner, Mr. Kane.

“Let me guess… mint chocolate chip ice cream?” asked Mr. Kane, grinning at Mulder.

“Uh, yeah,” he replied, nodding. Scully had been on a mint chocolate kick for the past two weeks. “We’re all out.”

Mulder walked over to the large freezer and pulled out a pint of Häagen-Dazs Mint Chip, before approaching the counter and taking out his wallet. The store owner then took Mulder’s cash and opened the register.

“Dana must be ready to pop any day now, huh?” said Mr. Kane, handing Mulder back his change.

“Um, she’s still got a few more weeks to go,” he replied.

Mr. Kane nodded, and placed the ice cream in a small white plastic bag with a yellow smiley face. “So is it gonna be a boy or a girl?”

Mulder grabbed the bag from the counter and pursed his lips, shrugging. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” After thanking the older gentleman, he walked out of the store and across the street, where he then walked the short distance down 31st Street NW to number 1419, stepping inside Scully’s apartment building just a few minutes after the sun had set.

Standing in front of her apartment door, Mulder took out his keys and unlocked it, stepping inside. As he closed and locked the door behind him, he watched Scully hang up her cordless phone in the living room, setting it back down into its base on the end table with a little more force than normal. He immediately assumed she’d just gotten off the phone with her mother.

“More baby shower planning?” Mulder said as he hung up his jacket on the coat rack.

“No,” replied Scully, watching him walk into the kitchen with the plastic bag from Maxwell’s. “Agent Doggett is missing.”

He turned around just as he’d grabbed hold of the freezer door, and saw her standing by the front door, looking at him. “What do you mean?”

She sighed. “He was working on this murder case in New York, near Buffalo, and now he’s missing. His partner is missing, too.”

“Partner? What partner?” Mulder’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“He was assigned a new partner,” replied Scully. “An agent from the Accounting Department.”

He let out a breathy laugh of disbelief, shaking his head. “Accounting. Unbelievable.” But as he watched her chewing on her bottom lip, her brows knitting, he saw her anxiety, and tried to reassure her. “I’m sure Agent Doggett will be all right. He’s more than capable. And if I know Skinner, he won’t stop until he finds him. Try not to worry.”

Scully nodded, hoping that it wouldn’t be long before the Assistant Director found Doggett and his partner. “I know. Skinner is up there now. He’s got FBI agents from the Buffalo division, state troopers, and sheriff’s deputies out looking for him. But what if it’s not enough? I can’t just sit back and do nothing.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what you’re gonna do,” Mulder said firmly. “I mean, what, Scully? Are you gonna get on a plane and fly to Buffalo to join Skinner’s search team?”

“Of course not,” she replied. “But there must be something I can do.”

He put the ice cream into the freezer, and then turned back to look at her. “No. There’s nothing for you to do. There are other things that you need to focus on. What did your doctor tell you about slowing down?”

She heaved a frustrated sigh and walked out of the kitchen without another word. Mulder shook his head, sighing, and then went to take a shower. Not long after, he planted himself on the couch in the living room and spent the rest of the day watching, or listening to, Scully busying herself around the apartment. Apparently, since she wasn’t going to be able to help Agent Doggett, she was going to do the next best thing: clean.

After a while, Mulder got tired of watching Scully bustle about from room to room, wiping off the coffee table in the living room, listening to her cleaning kitchen counters, throwing the bathroom towels into the washing machine, and he decided to head out to Doug’s Fish Fry to get their dinner. Upon returning 30 minutes later, they sat down at her dining table to eat together, but he found it difficult to draw her into a conversation. Mrs. Scully and her baby shower plans was too stressful a discussion for Scully, he didn’t want to get on the subject of names for the baby as everyone else in her life was constantly asking her about it or offering their unsolicited opinions, nor did he particularly want to get into the inevitable conversation about how exactly did this pregnancy come about in the first place.

He knew they both wondered and worried about this, but they both said nothing. Mulder still hadn’t told Scully that he read her medical files, and that he saw the genetic test she had done. She hadn’t said the words ‘you are the father,’ and he hadn’t stood up and said those words either, laid some kind of official claim to the child growing inside her. It went unspoken, hidden between the lines of the things they did say. They hadn’t once used the word ‘our’ when referring to the baby, instead maintaining the safe use of the words ‘the,’ ‘your,’ and ‘my.’

Mulder wasn’t sure why he felt a twinge of fear when thinking of that word, ‘our.’ He wondered if Scully felt that same fear. Maybe he was trying to distance himself to a certain extent. Maybe Krycek’s words had needled their way past his guarded defenses. He and Scully had both already lost so much. But there was potential for a pain and loss so great, more terrible than they had ever experienced before, that the word ‘our’ only made him fear this possibility even more. There was too much love, joy, and hope wrapped up in that small word, and perhaps the fear of losing it kept them from saying the words 'our baby,' 'our son.'

It was now after 9:30 pm, and Mulder sat in front of the television watching the Knicks play against the Bulls in Chicago’s United Center, and listening to Scully putter around the kitchen, wiping counters that she’d already cleaned within an inch of their lives earlier. He then heard her moving through the hallway and caught a glimpse of her walking into the nursery. She emerged shortly afterwards with her arms full of what looked like the newborn clothing she’d purchased the previous Sunday afternoon while he’d put up shelves on the nursery walls, but then disappeared again as she went to throw them into the washing machine.

“Scully, I don’t know what you’re gonna wear out first, the soles of your feet or the floor,” Mulder called out. “I wouldn’t be able to fix either, just so you know.”

She then walked slowly into the living room, and over to the couch. “There are things that need to be done around here, Mulder. The baby’s new clothing and bedding needs to be washed with the hypoallergenic detergent. I need to keep up with the clutter caused your sunflower seed shells, nearly empty glasses of iced tea, and the fact your bathroom towels seem to often miss the laundry basket.”

He leaned back against the couch, entwining his hands behind his head. “A little clutter is good for the soul. Makes the place look lived in for once.”

“What are you saying?” she asked, giving him a carefully arched eyebrow. “My apartment didn’t look lived in before you got here?”

“Face it, Scully,” replied Mulder. “At any given moment, on any given day, the folks from _Good Housekeeping_ magazine could’ve dropped by for an impromptu photo session and you would've been ready.”

She sighed, and sat down next to him on the couch. He slid closer to her and threw his arm against the back of the couch behind her head. “Isn’t this better?” he asked, grinning at her. “So… are you doing that nesting thing? Is that what this antsy, excess energy is all about?”

“No, not nesting,” Scully replied, smirking at another display of Mulder’s knowledge of the information her pregnancy books contained. “I just feel… I don’t know. Ever since I left the office yesterday, I’ve felt funny. I feel like a deserter, like I’m jumping ship, playing hooky.”

“You’ve never played hooky in your life, am I right? Not even in high school.” Mulder smirked at her.

She shrugged her shoulders, rolling her eyes. “And now that Agent Doggett is in need of help, I feel even worse. They’ve given him a partner who has never been in the field before. I wasn’t there to watch his back. He was clearly in trouble, and… I wasn’t there.”

He shook his head. “It’s not your responsibility to be there anymore. You’ve done enough for the X-Files, above and beyond, and you can’t concern yourself with it now. It’s time to let the responsibility fall to other people.”

Scully sighed again, and leaned her head against the crook of his shoulder. “I’m just worried about him.”

“I know,” said Mulder quietly, his arm going around her shoulder and holding her to him.

*****

On Saturday morning, December 2nd, Mulder awoke to an empty bed. He soon after realized he’d woken to an empty apartment. As he stood in the kitchen, he saw a note from Scully attached to the refrigerator with a magnet and reached over to remove it.

“Needed to check in at Quantico. I’ll be home later. Love, S.”

She needed to check in at Quantico? On a Saturday morning? Mulder heaved a frustrated sigh and went in search of his cell phone. His call to Scully went straight to voicemail. He then dialed another number.

“Skinner.”

“Hello, Walter.”

Skinner didn’t even try to hide his sigh of annoyance. “Mulder. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

He smirked slightly, and stared at the note he’d set down on the dining table. “Listen, I’m really sorry about my behavior last week. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“I appreciate that,” Skinner replied. “Now why are you really calling me?”

“Where’s Scully?” asked Mulder without hesitation.

Skinner paused, and a brief silence hung between them. “I believe she went down to Quantico to perform the autopsy.”

He knew it. ‘Check in,’ his ass. “The murder victim in the case Doggett’s working on?”

“Yeah,” said Skinner. “The body arrived at Quantico late last night as per Agent Harrison’s request.”

“The agent from Accounting?” Mulder asked derisively. “How generous of Kersh.”

Skinner sighed. “She requested the assignment, Mulder. She’s a big fan of your work with Agent Scully.”

He paused. “And she’s missing, too? Any leads on Agent Doggett yet?”

“No, I wish,” replied Skinner. “But I’ve got every available law enforcement agent combing the area.”

“Hmm… Well, do you mind letting me in on the details of the case?” he asked.

Skinner sighed, and Mulder suspected he was debating whether he should or not. But because the Assistant Director was keen to find Doggett as soon as possible, to bring him home safe and unharmed, he filled Mulder in on all the details he knew.

After taking a quick shower and getting dressed, Mulder took the 45 minute drive to Quantico, arriving in time for the 10:00 am guided public tour of the Marine Corps Base. It didn’t take long for him to break free from the group, and he made his way over to the FBI Academy building. He wondered what his chances were of getting inside, knowing the Academy was off limits to the public, but when he saw that Stefan Niemi was manning the desk, he felt good about his chances.

“Agent Mulder!” said Stefan enthusiastically, standing up from the desk and walking over to greet him.

“Hey Stef,” he replied, shaking his hand. “But I’m not an agent anymore.”

Agent Niemi then nodded. “Right, right. Yeah, we heard about that. Tough break. Kersh is an ass.” He then looked around nervously, and turned back to Mulder. “You know that means I can’t let you in here. The public isn’t allowed inside the Academy. You know that.”

Mulder sighed. “I just need to speak to Scully for a minute. It won’t take long.”

“Um…,” Agent Niemi hesitated, looking around again. “I don’t know, Mulder. I mean, the Lab… the Lab is _really_ off limits to anyone outside FBI personnel. Especially now after everything that’s happened with Whitehurst.” He sighed. “All right, fine. But you better be back here, walking out those doors in 10 minutes.”

“Thanks, man,” said Mulder, walking away. “I owe you one.”

“You might owe me a job if Kersh hears about this!” Agent Niemi called out after Mulder’s quickly departing back. “And you better not let George Hill catch you down there!”

After bypassing signs for the Behavioral Science Unit, Technology Services Unit, and Data Intercept Unit, Mulder made his way towards the Forensic Science Research and Training Center. Once he was inside, he made a quick cursory glance around to ensure he couldn’t see George, the Supervisory Special Agent of the Lab for the past two years, ever since Frederic Whitehurst’s scandalous departure, and Scully’s future boss. He then headed towards the pathology section as quietly and quickly as possible.

Mulder entered the correct autopsy bay, and there was Scully in her blue scrubs, handing a sample to an assistant, who then stopped and stared at him. He didn’t look at her, his attention focused solely on Scully, who was staring back at him with slightly widened, guilty eyes.

“Um… I'll just take this to the lab,” the assistant said, before quickly departing the room.

“Thank you,” Scully said to her, looking at Mulder, and they remained silent until the door closed behind her.

He stared at his partner. “It seems like old times. You in scrubs, slicing and dicing.”

She met his gaze, wondering how he’d gotten in there. “What are you doing here, Mulder?”

“Actually, I… I wandered away from my tour,” he replied, showing her the visitor badge attached to his black leather jacket. “Better question is what are _you_ doing here?”

“I found something that may prove helpful in locating Agent Doggett,” Scully said, averting her eyes and turning towards the corpse on the steel gurney. “This is Arlen Sacks, the murder victim Doggett was investigating. This old man was not murdered, Mulder, he died of heart failure evidently after he was blinded by a chemical substance of some kind. The orbits have residual traces of a slimy substance.” She then took a cotton swab and wiped the corpse's eye. “Known as hydrolytic enzymes.”

Mulder nodded. “Venom. Produced by reptiles.”

Scully looked at him, surprised. “How do you know that?”

“Before Agent Doggett and his partner went missing they sent in samples to be analyzed. Hydrolytic enzymes. Skinner told me.”

“I, uh, I also found some bacteria in the venom, which I am going to do a culture on,” she said, averting her eyes again from his gaze, knowing he didn’t like what she was doing.

He stared at her pointedly, and spoke firmly. “Let somebody else do it. There are other concerns right now.”

Scully stared at him resolutely, putting her back up against his voiced disapproval. “I know. But this is an X-File, Mulder, and you are out of the Bureau. If now I go home, where is Skinner going to find someone qualified to look into this?”

“I know where he could find somebody,” he replied. Mulder immediately saw that Scully wasn’t going to rest and slow down like she needed to unless she knew Agent Doggett was all right. The longer they went with his fate being unknown, the more Scully would feel anxious, and Mulder knew that wasn’t good for her. “I’m gonna go up there, okay? I’m gonna head to the airport right now and get the next flight to Buffalo. Maybe there’s something I can do to help Skinner. And I want you to let somebody else finish up here. Go home, Scully.”

She sighed as he turned towards the door, saying “I’ll call you later,” and then he was gone. Scully knew she should go home, knew it was best to obey her doctor’s orders, knew that Mulder was only concerned for her and the baby. But she couldn’t sit back and do nothing, not while the life of someone she cared about was on the line.

*****

Early on Sunday morning, Agents Doggett and Leyla Harrison were transferred from the emergency room at Mercy Hospital in Buffalo to receive treatment at Washington Memorial Hospital. Mulder accompanied them on the flight, and despite the fact Agent Harrison was completely blind and had been trapped underneath Herman Stites’ house for two days, she excitedly badgered him with question after question about past X-Files cases. Mulder found himself feeling rather amused, and even touched, that this young woman thought so highly of his work with Scully.

On Tuesday morning, December 5th, Doggett was discharged but Leyla had to remain in the hospital, having suffered from exposure to the creature’s venom and bacteria longer than he had. After Scully got the call from Doggett that he’d be leaving the hospital soon, she and Mulder drove the short distance to Washington Memorial and ran into him as they were walking down the hospital corridor towards Leyla’s room.

“Agent Doggett,” greeted Scully, as he walked away from the door.

“Is this it?” he asked excitedly, pointing towards her swollen abdomen. He figured her due date must be right around the corner.

Mulder and Scully looked at each other, smiling, and then laughed as they realized what Doggett had meant.

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head.

“We just came by to visit Agent Harrison,” explained Mulder.

Scully glanced towards the door to Leyla’s room. “How is she?”

“She's on the same anti-venom treatment I got,” replied Doggett. “Her eyesight's pretty much back, the doctors say she's gonna be fine physically.”

“Skinner said she won't be returning to the X-Files,” said Scully.

Doggett nodded. “That was her choice. So it's just gonna be me for a while.”

Scully averted her eyes, feeling bad that he had to work in the basement alone, not really wishing that on anyone.

“I want to return something to you… that I think you deserve to keep,” Mulder said, handing over the Apollo 11 keychain he’d found on Stites’ estate in Ellicott, NY.

He hadn’t wanted to read too much into the fact the keychain had been in Agent Doggett’s possession. When Mulder had gotten the medallion as a birthday gift for Scully, he had thought it was the perfect way to express what she meant to him at the time. She wasn’t just his FBI partner, she’d become his closest friend and fiercest protector. And his work had become hers; his quest had become theirs, a quest for truth that at times seemed almost as impossible as a man stepping foot on the moon once had. Scully had obviously kept the gift, but it had remained in the basement office. He remembered seeing it from time to time over at her table in the back. She never attached it to her keys, never carried it with her wherever she went. She didn’t have to, because she had her partner with her at all times. But Agent Doggett, however, felt that he did need to carry around Scully’s gift with him. And Mulder didn’t want to read too much into it, but guessed that maybe Doggett needed to feel that he wasn’t alone.

“I appreciate the gesture,” Doggett said. “But if it's all the same to you, there's someone else who should have it. It would really mean a lot to her. Coming from you two, especially. She never shuts up about you.”

Mulder and Scully then watched him walk away down the corridor, before knocking on Agent Harrison’s door and stepping inside. Her eyes had widened at the sight of them entering her room and she looked deeply touched at receiving the gift. And if Mulder had any hopes of escaping before being bombarded with her questions, they soon vanished.

“Can I ask you something?” said Agent Harrison.

Scully looked at her impassively, not sure what was coming.

Mulder slightly nodded his head. “Sure.”

“When you went to Antarctica to save Agent Scully from being taken by that spaceship, and you ran out of gas in your Sno-Cat, how did you get back?”

Scully looked enquiringly at Mulder, who was looking perplexed. “Um, well, first of all, it was never…” she paused, coughing. “Actually proven that it was a spaceship.”

Mulder looked down at her, his brows knitting slightly. “It wasn't?”

“Well, no,” she replied, refusing to look at him. “What happened was that we fell off of something that…”

“Something?” asked Mulder.

“That rose out of the ice,” Scully concluded.

He fought hard to suppress a smirk, but wasn’t too successful. “Well what do you think that was?”

She sighed, and lowered her voice. “Well, I don't know what it was. But we never got… we didn't actually get to see a spaceship.”

“I can't believe that you're saying it's not a spaceship,” he said incredulously.

“Well, we don't know it was a spaceship,” she replied testily. “But you don't have a picture of it or anything.”

Mulder stared at her. “You know it was a spaceship. You saw it.”

Scully fervently shook her head. “No, no, no, no. Remember, I was unconscious and when I woke up there was no spaceship.”

“Now, come on, Scully. It was a spaceship.”

“Mulder, n-n-n-no. You were frozen, and I hugged you until you weren’t frozen anymore. But I never laid eyes on a spaceship.”

He nodded, pursing his lips. “But _I_ did.”

She sighed. “Well all right, then.” Scully then turned to look at Agent Harrison’s wide-eyed expression. “So does that answer your question?”

Leyla opened her mouth to reply but then quickly closed it, as if not knowing how to respond. Scully smiled, and then she and Mulder turned to walk out of the room. After opening the hospital room door, she turned back to look at Agent Harrison.

“Best of luck in all your future endeavors,” Scully said to her. “And thank you. For watching Agent Doggett’s back.”

She then left the room, Mulder following behind her. But then he quickly reached for the door before it could close, and stepped halfway back inside the room.

“Agent Harrison?” he said.

“Yes?” she replied, looking up at him from where she’d been gazing at the Apollo 11 keychain.

He grinned at her. “I had given AD Skinner and the Lone Gunmen the coordinates before I left. No one gets there alone. Remember that.”

Leyla smiled and nodded, and Mulder left the room to join Scully in the hallway, closing the door shut behind him.

*****

As Mulder and Scully approached her car in the parking lot of Washington Memorial Hospital, she unlocked the car with the keyless entry remote and then tossed him the keys. He caught them with a look of surprise.

“You want me to drive?” he asked.

“Well, you’re a fully licensed driver now,” she replied, opening the passenger side door.

Mulder snorted, shaking his head. “It’s amazing just how much paperwork is involved with coming back from the dead.”

Scully grinned and climbed into the passenger seat, and he closed the door once she’d gotten situated inside. He then walked around to the driver’s side, getting in and readjusting the seat.

“You probably know where the best Mexican place in the city is, right?” she asked, buckling her seat belt, stretched wide over her protruding belly.

“You want Mexican food for lunch?” he replied with an amused expression, wondering if she was starting a new craving and he would be seeing a lot of tacos in his near future.

She looked over at him. “Yes. And I don’t mean let’s swing by the Lone Gunmen’s place for huevos rancheros.”

Mulder chuckled. “Guapo’s Cantina on Wisconsin Ave is excellent.”

“Well, you’re driving,” Scully replied, grinning at him.

He smirked and inserted the key into the ignition, and then they departed, heading towards Georgetown. Fifteen minutes later, they were being seated at a table in the back of Guapo’s, and not long after Scully was digging into her nachos while Mulder enjoyed his sizzling platter of carne asada fajitas. He watched her chewing contentedly, before taking another sip of her ice water.

“Scully, are you sure this spicy food is okay for the kid? You don’t want to go into labor too early.”

“Mulder, if _you_ haven’t caused preterm labor by now, I don’t think extra jalapeños is going to do it.”

He laughed, and then took another bite of his steak fajita. She watched him, and thought of the work he’d done to save Agent Doggett’s life, and Agent Harrison’s too. She thought of all the good Mulder had done over the years, the lives he’d saved, the evils he’d stopped and prevented.

Scully looked at him sympathetically. “You miss it, don’t you?”

“Miss what?” he asked, his brows furrowing, and he took a sip of his Coca-Cola.

“The X-Files.”

Mulder sighed, but then he grinned at her and his eyes twinkled mischievously. “You think I wanna slog around in the muck, get attacked by mutant creatures, and train a young and beautiful agent who’s never been in the field before? Jesus, what a nightmare. I did it once. Don’t ever wanna do it again.”

She stared at him blankly, crumpled up a napkin, and threw it at his head. He laughed, but then Mulder’s expression turned more serious. “I don’t need the X-Files, Scully. I’ve got you.”

“It was hard to walk away,” she said, sighing. “But you were right. I’ve got to close that chapter and start another one. There are more important things that need my attention now. And who knows what we’ll be able to accomplish in the future? We have each other. I guess that’s all that really matters.”

“We have the great advantage of being alive,” Mulder stated.

Scully’s brows furrowed, as she thought about what he’d just said. “Why does that sound familiar?”

He smiled. “E.E. Cummings. I believe a shelf in your living room currently houses some published works of his.”

“Oh, yeah. But it’s been quite a long time since I read any poetry.” She grinned at him, and took a sip of her ice water.

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a lot more time on my hands since Kersh 86’d me,” he replied.

Later that night, Mulder took the pint of Mint Chip out of the freezer, grabbed a spoon, and carried it to the living room, where Scully was standing in front of her bookcase. She’d pulled _100 Selected Poems_ by e.e. cummings from the shelf, and after looking over the Table of Contents, turned to page 115.

 _the great advantage of being alive_  
_(instead of undying) is not so much_  
_that mind no more can disprove than prove_  
_what heart may feel and soul may touch_  
_— the great (my darling) happens to be_  
_that love are in we, that love are in we_  
  
_and here is a secret they never will share_  
_for whom create is less than have_  
_or one times one than when times where —_  
_that we are in love, that we are in love:_  
_with us they've nothing times nothing to do_  
_(for love are in we am in i are in you)_  
  
_this world (as timorous itsters all_  
_to call their cowardice quite agree)_  
_shall never discover our touch and feel_  
_— for love are in we are in love are in we;_  
_for you are and i am and we are (above_  
_and under all possible worlds) in love_  
  
_a billion brains may coax undeath_  
_from fancied fact and spaceful time —_  
_no heart can leap, no soul can breathe_  
_but by the sizeless truth of a dream_  
_whose sleep is the sky and the earth and the sea._  
_For love are in you am in i are in we_

Scully smiled to herself, gazing at the words, her heart filling with emotion, and then she placed the book back on the shelf. Her eyes then widened with delight as she turned to look at Mulder, at the pint of ice cream, opened, spoon at the ready, and she walked over to meet him at the couch. Scully had the spoon in her mouth before she had even sat back down. Luscious mint and dark chocolate exploded on her tongue, her eyes closing, and she hummed in satisfaction.

His soft laugh aroused her from her solitary bliss as he sat down beside her. “Watching you eat ice cream is like watching pornography. I’ve never known anyone to enjoy it as much as you do.”

“Well, I love ice cream,” she replied. “And that’s why I like to savor each bite. Take my time with it; prolong the enjoyment as much as possible. I think you can appreciate that.”

Sensual tension flared as their eyes locked. The television was on, but soon it merely served as background noise. Their attention was focused on the other, as they sat sideways facing each other on the couch. Scully dipped the spoon into the carton and brought it to her mouth with slow, deliberate movements, before scooping the frozen cream with her tongue. Mulder licked his lips, his pupils dilating, and she smirked, spooning out a bite of the mint ice cream and holding it to him.

“You want some?” she asked teasingly.

Mulder grinned and leaned over towards the spoon, only for Scully to pull it back, drawing him closer to her, before finally allowing him to taste the ice cream, centimeters from her mouth. He took the bite, smiling at her with lusty patience, and whispered, “I hate it.”

Scully let out a breathy laugh, and turned towards the television. Then Mulder’s chilled lips were on the curve of her neck, simultaneously freezer-cold and fiery-hot, his mouth burning a line up her jaw to lick the mint flavor of her mouth. “I hate mint ice cream,” he whispered. “But I love you.”

She smirked at him, shrugging her shoulders and eyeing him teasingly. “That just means more ice cream for me.”

He chuckled and leaned against the couch, his eyes watching the way her mouth worked over the ice cream-filled silver spoon. “You’re just gonna keep tormenting me, aren’t you? Teasing me until I think of nothing else but getting you naked as soon as possible?”

“Absolutely,” she replied, her eyes glinting at him.

Scully then leaned over and kissed him. Mulder felt her cold fingers slide against his neck, up past his ear, and into his hair. She set the carton of mint ice cream down on the coffee table, where it was soon forgotten and it softened as they kissed, never once parting.


	97. "Your brother's name is Bill Jr. He's in the Navy and he hates me."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully's mother throws her a baby shower. Mulder and Scully attend their final Lamaze class. The entire Scully family, including relatives and friends, descend on Margaret Scully's house for Christmas. Bill Jr drinks too much eggnog.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from the episode "Essence" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arcade Fire - "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)"
> 
> And if the snow buries my  
> My neighborhood  
> And if my parents are crying  
> Then I'll dig a tunnel from my window to yours  
> Yeah, a tunnel from my window to yours
> 
> You climb out the chimney  
> And meet me in the middle, the middle of the town  
> And since there's no one else around  
> We let our hair grow long and forget all we used to know  
> Then our skin gets thicker from living out in the snow
> 
> You change all the lead  
> Sleeping in my head  
> As the day grows dim  
> I hear you sing a golden hymn
> 
> Then, we tried to name our babies  
> But we forgot all the names that  
> The names we used to know  
> But sometimes we remember our bedrooms  
> And our parents' bedrooms  
> And the bedrooms of our friends  
> Then we think of our parents  
> Well, whatever happened to them
> 
> You change all the lead sleeping in my head to gold  
> As the day grows dim  
> I hear you sing a golden hymn  
> It's the song I've been trying to sing
> 
> Purify the colors, purify my mind  
> Purify the colors, purify my mind  
> And spread the ashes of the colors  
> Over this heart of mine

It was almost 3:30 on Friday afternoon, December 8th, when Mulder and Scully departed their second Lamaze class at the Metro Maternity and Birth Center, making their way towards her parked car further down the street. The temperature had dropped and it had begun to snow, and so bundled up in their coats, they huddled as close to each other as possible as they walked. After helping Scully into the passenger seat, Mulder jogged around to the other side and quickly got in.

“So what did you think of class today?” she asked, glancing over at him, smirking.

He looked at her as he buckled his seat belt, trying to suppress a grin. Towards the end of class, Joyce the Lamaze Instructor showed a video of a water birth. Mulder had remarked, a little too loudly, if whether this was Scully’s payback for all those cattle mutilations over the years. At the words ‘cattle mutilations,’ everyone stopped and turned to stare at them, causing Scully to blush furiously and force herself to stare resolutely ahead.

“It was… informative,” Mulder replied, turning to start the engine. He thought of the instructor’s comparison of ‘pushing a bowling ball out of your ass’ to childbirth, and blanched, shaking his head slightly as he pulled away from the curb.

Shortly after arriving back at the apartment there was a knock on Scully’s door, and she slowly walked over to answer it. She looked out the peephole and sighed, before opening the door to see her mother standing there, several bags in hand.

“Hi, honey!” said Maggie, stepping across the threshold. “I just wanted to drop some things off for the shower tomorrow.”

“Hi, Mom.” As she closed the door, Mulder walked into the kitchen from the hallway, took one look at Mrs. Scully and her bags full of pink and blue, and quickly turned around. But Scully wasn’t about to let that happen. “Oh, Mulder. Mom’s here to help us get ready for the shower.”

He sighed, closing his eyes, and turned back around to face his partner’s pointed stare in his direction. Mulder returned to the kitchen as Mrs. Scully was setting the bags down on the dining table.

“Hello, Fox, how are you?” Maggie asked, smiling.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Scully, thank you. How’re you?”

She pursed her lips and shook her head at him. “Oh, I’m fine. But I think it’s time you started calling me ‘Maggie,’ don’t you? Or ‘Margaret.’” She paused, and then smirked at him. “Or… ‘Mom,’ maybe?”

Mulder stared wide-eyed and Scully rolled her eyes, sighing. He then cleared his throat. “I think I’m just, uh, inherently opposed to calling any and all Scully women by their first names. You understand…”

Maggie chuckled and shook her head, unloading her bags containing the packages of blue and pink balloons, paper plates and napkins, and streamers. “Well, you’re gonna have three Mrs. Scullys on your hands at Christmas, so you better come up with a plan.”

He quickly turned to look at Scully, and she averted her eyes. Bill Jr was coming for Christmas? She’d never mentioned it, but she didn’t seem at all surprised by her mother’s statement.

“Streamers, Mom? Seriously?” asked Scully, quickly changing the subject, and arched a chagrined eyebrow at the rolls of blue and pink crepe paper.

“Well, Dana,” huffed Maggie. “We have to decorate your apartment somehow. You wouldn’t let me book the Highland Belle Country Club.”

Scully heaved her own frustrated sigh, and Mulder desperately wanted to leave the kitchen. “Mom, since when are we country club people?”

Maggie opened a package of baby blue balloons. “But I told you that we don’t have to have a club membership to rent the banquet room, Dana.”

“But we’d need a minimum of 30 guests,” answered Scully. “Where am I gonna find 30 female friends and relatives? It was difficult enough coming up with a list of 10. I had to invite Skinner’s secretary, for crying out loud.”

“It’s not my fault you’ve lost touch with all your friends over the years,” stated Maggie. “Maybe you should’ve worked a little less, and socialized a little more.”

She stared at her mother, biting her tongue, and Mulder thought that now was a good time to exit the kitchen. He promptly walked out and into the living room, grabbing the television remote, and turned on the TV, making sure the volume was just loud enough to drown out the conversation going on in the kitchen.

Right before 10:30 am on Saturday, Mulder walked out of the apartment, heading to the Lone Gunmen’s office, just as Mrs. Scully was arriving to help set up for the shower. An hour later, Maggie was busily decorating the living room with pink and blue balloons.

“You know, it would be a whole lot easier for everyone if you would just tell us the sex, Dana,” Maggie called out. There was no answer. “Did you hear me?”

Scully walked into the living room carrying a cup of chamomile tea, wearing her new beige print dress and cardigan to match. “Yes, I heard you, Mom. For about the thousandth time, you can wait. Didn't you have to wait with us?”

Maggie smiled and looked at her daughter. “Well, I know it's a boy. I can just tell by the way you're carrying. It's a boy.”

“Well, see, you obviously don't need me to tell you because you already know,” retorted Scully, walking into the kitchen.

“Then it's a boy?” Maggie replied hopefully, her eyes widening with excitement.

She didn't answer and rinsed her tea cup in the sink, frustrating her mom further.

Maggie sighed. “Oh, it's the least you could tell your mother, considering everything else you're keeping a secret.” Dana wouldn’t tell her any names she’d picked out, wouldn’t tell her if she was going to stay home with the baby or go back to work, wouldn’t tell her what was going on with Mulder, as well as other decisions about the baby she wouldn’t speak of.

There was suddenly a knock at the door and Scully looked at her watch. It was only 11:30. “We told people noon, right?”

“Mm-hmm,” answered Maggie.

Scully opened the door to see a woman standing there, in her 40’s with short red hair, holding two bouquets of flowers, one pink and one blue.

“Hi. Your mom said to cover all the bases. I'm Lizzy Gill.”

Maggie came over to the doorway and took a bouquet. “Hi, Lizzy. Let me give you a hand with that.” She glanced at her daughter. “I asked Lizzy to help out today.”

What the hell did that mean? “Oh. Hi.”

“These are going to need some water,” said Lizzy, holding up the bouquet still in her hand. “Congratulations, by the way.” She then walked confidently into the apartment, and made her way into the kitchen.

“Mom…,” Scully said quietly. “What do we need help with?”

Maggie slightly shrugged. “I don't know. It's just… well you shouldn't have to worry. You have to let people do for you. She's a very highly recommended baby nurse, by the way.” She then walked away to follow Lizzy into the kitchen.

“Oh, Mom,” breathed Scully in exasperation. Why did her mother always do this? Just took it upon herself to butt in until everything snowballed into something ridiculous and unnecessary? Maybe she’d be able to get Mulder to tell her mother the baby nurse idea was out of the question.

Just before noon, Jennifer arrived with the cake, which was decorated with both a blue and pink baby rattle, and then Aunt Olive Scully showed up with her daughters Fiona and Colleen, Scully’s friend from college, Ellen, a few of Scully’s acquaintances from Quantico, and Skinner’s assistant Kimberly Cook. Over the next two hours, the guests mingled with one another and nibbled on finger foods, played a couple silly games devised by Maggie, and watched Scully open her gifts while cake was served.

At 2:15 pm, Maggie closed the door on the last departing guest. “Thank you so much for coming.”

She turned to see Scully and Jennifer sitting on the couch, surrounded by gifts, having a second piece of cake, and smiled while Lizzy Gill was busy gathering wrapping paper into a trash bag. Maggie then walked into the living room to join them.

“Thanks, Mom,” said Scully. “It was a really lovely shower.”

“I was glad to do it, honey,” Maggie replied.

Just then there was the sound of a key in the door lock, and the women all turned to see the door slowly open a crack. Then two male hands emerged waving a large white napkin. “Is it safe for me to come in?” called out Mulder. “Or am I at risk for estrogen poisoning?”

Scully started giggling. Jennifer chewed a piece of her cake with an amused expression.

“Yes, it's safe. If you don’t mind a lot of neutral pastel colors,” answered Maggie.

Mulder stepped inside, closing the door behind him with his foot, and walked into the living room. Seeing the redheaded lady with the trash bag, he tossed the napkin into it.

“Hi, I’m Lizzy Gill,” she said.

“Uh, hi,” he replied, looking over her red hair. “Are you a relative of Scully?’s”

She shook her head, smiling. “Oh, no,” Maggie said, walking over. “Lizzy comes highly recommended as a pre and postpartum caregiver, and baby nurse. I asked her to come and help out Dana.”

He thrust his tongue into the side of his cheek, and slowly nodded. “Huh.” Mulder then looked over at Scully, who looked like she didn’t seem all that enthused about this idea either.

“Often, new moms will underestimate what they’ll need,” Lizzy said to him. “And end up with too little help. And when you’re recovering from childbirth and running on very little sleep, it can be extremely overwhelming. A weak support system can lead to postpartum stress, sleep deprivation, difficulty breastfeeding. Having the right kind of help can attribute to a new mom’s physical and emotional well-being.”

Scully chewed on her bottom lip, and looked over at Mulder, who only nodded his head.

“Well, I’ll just finish cleaning up the kitchen, and then I’ll get out of your hair,” said Lizzy, before walking out of the living room with the trash bag.

Fifteen minutes later, Lizzy Gill walked out of the apartment, carrying the large trash bag, while Jennifer helped Scully fold all the new baby clothes as well as sort the new books and toys.

“My goodness, Dana, so much yellow and pastel green,” Maggie exclaimed. “It would’ve been so much better if you would’ve just told us whether you’re having a boy or a girl. Right, Fox?”

“Leave me out of it,” Mulder quickly replied, raising his arms as if in surrender, before reaching to peruse one of the books filled with colorful illustrations of smiling animals and sitting down on the couch next to Scully.

Maggie sighed, and sat in one of the chairs. “Well, at least most of the gifts have the receipts with them, so you can exchange them later if you want.” After folding a buttercup-yellow infant onesie with a smiling brown teddy bear on the chest, she looked over at Scully. “Um, you know, Dana, I was able to have a long talk with Father McCue…”

Scully’s eyes flew to Mulder, who was engrossed in the baby book, and then back to her mother. “Not now, Mom. Please.”

Jennifer and Maggie glanced over at Mulder, and the room fell silent. Suddenly aware of the absence of chattering female voices, he turned to look at the three women sitting on his left. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Maggie said, quickly recovering. “Don’t you think it would be better for Dana to use cloth diapers? Wouldn’t that be better than filling up landfills with disposables?”

“Um…,” replied Mulder, looking over at Scully for some help as how to answer.

Maggie sighed. “I just loved washing your nappies and hanging them on the clothesline to dry in the warm sunshine.”

Jennifer smirked. “Mom, it’s going to be several months before we have the kind of weather conducive to hanging up laundry outside.”

“Besides, I don’t even have a clothesline,” Scully said. “I have a dryer. And I’m sorry, but I really don’t like the idea of throwing poopy cloth diapers into my washing machine.”

Mulder grimaced. “Looks like disposables are the way the wind’s blowing, Mrs. Scully.”

An hour later, Scully walked her mother and sister-in-law to the door while Mulder sat on the couch, watching television. “Dana,” Maggie said quietly, lowering her voice. “Haven’t you talked to Fox yet about christening the baby?”

“No, Mom, I haven’t,” Scully replied firmly. “There’s just been a lot of other things going on.”

Her mother gave her an impatient look. “Well, it’s important, honey. You are going to raise the baby Catholic, aren’t you?”

Scully sighed. “Please stop pushing it, Mom. I told you I would talk to him, okay? I will.” She gave her mother and Jennifer a hug after opening the door, and thanked them again for all their help. They told her they loved her and they would see her soon, and to call them if she needed anything. Scully then joined Mulder on the couch, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“I’m exhausted,” she breathed.

“I bet,” he replied. “Parties will do that to ya.”

She snorted. “My mother is exhausting.”

Wisely, Mulder said nothing about this. “So… she wants you to hire a baby nurse, huh? Is that like a nanny?”

“Sort of,” Scully said. “She’d live here with us 24/7 for a couple weeks, maybe a month. She’d basically be the one getting up in the middle of the night to feed the baby and change its diaper, so that I can get the sleep and rest I need.”

“I don’t like the idea of someone moving in here with us,” replied Mulder. “It’s not like you’ll be here by yourself. I’ll be here with you. I can get up in the night with the kid.”

She smirked at him. “Famous last words. You can suffer sleep deprivation just as much as I can.”

He sighed, and threw his arm around her shoulder. “Would it be easier for you if we hired some help around here? I mean, the doctor told you to slow down and take it easy. You never slow down. You’re going to the grocery store, or you’re going to the shopping mall. Even when you’re home, you’re always on your feet, cleaning or sorting or cooking or… whatever. Maybe we should get somebody else to do that stuff for a little while.”

Scully shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Well, just think about it,” Mulder said, rubbing his hand up and down her arm. He then glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “So, uh, the Bill Jr clan is coming to visit?”

“Um… yeah,” she replied, not looking at him. “I, uh, didn’t mention it?”

He turned and stared at her. “No.”

She paused, coughing. “Oh, well, you know… must be that pregnancy brain. I forget things easily.”

Mulder wasn’t convinced.

*****

On Friday afternoon, December 22nd, Mulder and Scully were sitting on their designated pink yoga mat inside the large classroom of the Metro Maternity and Birth Center, attending their very last Lamaze class, as rain pounded against the building outside. The rain hadn’t been a welcomed event. But most people still held out hope for snow on Christmas Day. Earlier that day they’d gone to Scully’s appointment with Dr. Bajaj. Everything was looking good at 37 weeks. Mulder felt relieved and thankful that the baby was still healthy, and so was Scully.

At Lamaze class, Mulder had seated himself behind his partner, her back to his front, his legs lying on either side of her body, making somewhat of a ‘V’ shape. His hands cupped her very pregnant belly, resting against her long-sleeved cotton tunic, almost the same shade of blue as her eyes. Joyce was saying something about breathing, pacing all over the room with her silver-streaked black hair and long, floral-patterned peasant dress, but his mind had drifted as Scully rested against him, becoming more relaxed as the class progressed.

He no longer had any idea what Joyce was talking about, and Mulder found himself leaning closer and closer until his lips grazed the soft outer shell of Scully’s ear. He tilted his head, and his nose pressed against her scalp, breathing in her familiar scent. Vanilla. He closed his eyes, and held her tighter, relishing her warmth, her sweet smell, her softness, and listened to the rain pouring outside.

He suddenly had a vision of a very young Dana Scully, standing with him in the rain, at a cemetery in Oregon. _“The boy in the hospital? The vegetable?! Billy Miles, a boy who's been in a coma for the last four years, got out here and dug up these graves?” … “This fits a profile?” … “Peggy O'Dell's watch stopped a couple of minutes after nine. I made a note of it when I saw the body.” … “And the force summoned her body into the woods tonight.”_ And then Scully was laughing, finding the whole thing ludicrous and unable to understand any of it from a scientific point of view, but somehow starting to believe it. He smiled at the memory.

“Mulder,” whispered Scully. “There’s a reason people don’t attend Lamaze class alone. Both partners have to pay attention.”

“I’m paying attention,” he whispered back, his lips moving to graze against her ear. “She’s still talking about breathing, right? I’ve got the breathing part down, I think.” Mulder’s lips then brushed her ear again, and then a third time, and a fourth. Anyone else in the class would’ve just assumed he was whispering to her. “I think a much better place to work on our breathing is back at your place, in front of a warm fire.”

Her own breathing quickened, and her body tensed. “Mulder, we really need to focus here.”

He hummed, and his nose moved along the outside rim of her ear, into her hair, then brushing his lips back down to her earlobe. He felt her body tensing even more, her breathing becoming shallower. “A crackling fire in your living room is the perfect setting to practice our breathing techniques,” Mulder whispered. “I can just picture your soft, milky skin, aglow with firelight, the curve of your ass as you slide up and down my cock while you kneel in front of me.”

Scully turned to look at him, her darkening blue eyes glinting with frustration. She opened her mouth to reprimand him, but then stopped as Mulder gazed at her lips. They were pink and plump, parting slightly, and he licked his own. Her eyes then returned the gaze, staring at his mouth. Mulder began to move his thumbs in circles on her wrists, where their hands joined over her abdomen, and Scully’s breathing quickened even more. She then leaned closer to him, until he suddenly felt her exhalation of breath on his lips.

At this moment, Joyce cleared her throat loudly and Scully quickly pulled away. “Uh, Mr. Mulder? This is called Lamaze, not foreplay. Feel free to implement extracurricular relaxation techniques when at home, but right now we need to focus on what will help your partner in the delivery room.”

Their classmates chuckled, and Scully’s face turned beet red. Why was he always embarrassing her in this class?

“You know, Scully,” Mulder whispered from behind her, as Joyce resumed speaking to the class. “Lamaze has turned out way more interesting than I had initially expected.”

She fought hard to suppress a grin, but failed.

*****

Early on Sunday evening, as large snowflakes fell to join their fallen brothers piling on the cold ground, Mulder and Scully drove to Alexandria, Virginia to attend Margaret Scully’s Christmas Eve party. The ride over was a quiet one, the radio sounding out Christmas songs, the volume turned down low. Mulder dreaded being thrown into the limelight of Mrs. Scully’s party, dreaded the nonstop questions he was sure to endure throughout the night, dreaded being in the same vicinity as Bill Jr. As it turned out, he had every reason to dread this.

At 6:00 pm, Mulder and Scully walked though Maggie’s front door, finding the house abuzz with relatives and her mother’s friends from church, various accountants, lawyers, and teachers. Charlie, Jennifer, and their kids were there, and as Mulder hung his and Scully’s coats up on the wall hooks, Jennifer’s six-year-old niece Charlotte Delaney chased her 11 year old cousin Jack from one room to another.

Scully smiled at the laughing children, and then Maggie hurriedly walked towards the door to greet her daughter and Mulder. She then took him by the arm, whisking him away, and he helplessly looked back at Scully, who shrugged in defeat. Jennifer and Tara excitedly approached Scully, and she smiled at her sisters-in-law. They looked just as beautiful as ever. Tara’s blond hair stopped just below her ears and was held back with a barrette that sparkled in the light, her black cocktail dress hugging her slender figure. And Jennifer looked perfect, of course, in her festively red party dress, standing even taller than she usually did over Scully with her high heels, her long light brown hair falling over one shoulder. They were each holding one of Tara’s twin girls, Eleanor and Delphine, now 14 months old. They had short strawberry blond hair, and bright blue eyes.

“Oh my goodness!” said Scully. “I haven’t them since they were two months old.”

“Dana, the girls were here with us over the summer!” exclaimed Tara, laughing. “You saw them. Here at Maggie’s house.”

Jennifer elbowed her sister-in-law, and stared at her. “She doesn’t really remember anything about that, Tara.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I forgot. Sorry, Dana.” Tara twitched her mouth to one side, a regretful expression coming over her face.

Scully chuckled. “It’s okay, Tara. It’s not like that whole thing… didn’t, you know, work itself out.”

Tara then looked around, and after noting that Bill was in the other room and out of earshot, she turned back to her sister-in-law, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “So, Jennifer said it was some… alien spaceship that took Mulder. I mean is that… is that really true?”

After pointedly staring at Jennifer, who unapologetically shrugged her shoulders, Scully looked at Tara and sighed. “Can’t we just enjoy the holidays without getting into… all that?”

“Oh my God, it’s true.” Tara’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

Scully groaned and started to walk away to join the party, Tara and Jennifer sniggering as they walked closely behind her. As she walked through the living room, she greeted her Aunt Olive, her cousins Fiona and Colleen, and their husbands, some people she knew from church, ran into Jennifer’s parents, who had the care of baby Hannah, whom would have her first birthday next month, and hugged her younger brother Charlie as well as her nephews, Ben, Jack, and Matthew. The boys excitedly laughed over how big Scully was, and then asked her whether she was having a boy or a girl and what she was going to name it. Ben and Jack then gave her some ideas.

“I’m not going to name the baby after comic book characters,” Scully said amusedly, running her fingers through Jack’s dark red hair.

“But _X-Men_ is the best!” said 13 year old Ben incredulously, his ocean-blue eyes widening. “Come on. Xavier is an awesome name.”

Jack shook his head. “Logan is way better.”

Matthew, nearly three years old now, then told her she should name the baby Luther, but he couldn’t come up with a reason why. Scully and Charlie chuckled, giving each other perplexed looks. A couple minutes later, Scully attempted to make her way to the kitchen and came upon Bill Jr.

“Hi, Dana, how are you?” he asked stiffly, leaning down to give her an awkward hug, one of his hands occupied with holding a cup of eggnog.

“I’m doing good, Bill. How have you been?”

He nodded. “Oh, can’t complain. So I see you brought Mulder with you.”

She fervently suppressed a sigh. “Yes, Bill. I did. We go almost everywhere together these days.”

“Well, I suppose that’s a good thing for you,” he replied, before taking a sip of his drink. “Who knows when he’s gonna just run off again, right? Gotta keep a close eye on him.”

This time Scully didn’t hold back from heaving a sigh. “Mulder’s not going anywhere, Bill. So you better get used to it.”

“Like hell,” he spit back. “He’s no good for you. You know it. I know it. Everyone knows it. Except Mom, maybe, since she’s currently ushering him around the room like he’s some goddamned prize.”

Not once since finding out she was having a baby had Scully felt any desire to consume alcohol. Now, more than ever, she felt she could really use a drink. She shook her head at her older brother, biting her tongue, and walked away from him. But when she approached the refreshment table, Scully sidestepped all the alcohol and poured herself a glass of sparkling apple cider.

Mulder wasn’t faring much better. Mrs. Scully was the life of the party. She’d hired some aproned maid-slash-waitress to serve ice cold champagne to her guests and watch over the large punch bowl filled with spiked eggnog, so that no children partook and adults didn’t partake more than what was good for them. The stereo rang out classic Christmas favorites on her five-disc CD player. Her guests snacked on finger foods, mingled, and chatted about the weather, the election of George W. Bush, and the Redskins.

Maggie Scully proudly whisked Mulder around, introducing him as ‘Fox’ and ‘Dana’s partner’ to everyone he didn’t know. He received the responses he’d been pretty much expecting, and some he hadn't expected at all.

“So, you’re the guy.”

“Aren’t you the one who believes in aliens?”

“I thought you were dead.”

“Hey, didn’t I read your obituary in the _Post?_ It was kinda weird, as far as obituaries go.”

“I guess this is finally confirmation that Dana isn’t a lesbian.”

Mrs. Scully would then politely clear her throat, or sometimes mutter a sharp warning about ‘too much eggnog,’ and change the subject, before pulling Mulder by the arm to introduce him to someone else. Luckily, Scully’s mom had at least steered him clear of Bill Jr, and Mulder proved to be much more popular with the women in the room.

Finally, Mulder found Scully within his sight, in her long-sleeved hunter green velvet dress that hung down to her knees, and breathing a sigh of relief, broke free from her mother, and made his way across the room to be with her. Just as he’d reached Scully, a smile erupting on her face, the clock chimed 7:00 and Father McCue stepped through the front door, wearing his black suit and white Roman collar.

“Oh, good!” called out Maggie, and walked over to greet the priest. “Now we can serve Christmas dinner.”

Scully sighed at the sight of Father McCue, and hoped her mother would leave future decisions about the baby out of dinner conversation. Having inserted additional leaves into the dining table, and setting up another long table in the adjoining parlor, all her guests were seated comfortably. At one head of the dining room table sat Bill, still drinking eggnog, and at the other end sat Father McCue. Mulder felt thankful that he and Scully had been sat down at the priest’s end, away from Bill Jr.

As the aproned maid dished out cherry cobbler for dessert, Bill Jr asked her to get him another glass of eggnog, prompting Maggie to send a disapproving stare in his direction. He didn’t seem to notice, and the maid did as requested. Bill Jr looked up and down the table, before setting his sights on Scully sitting diagonally from Father McCue and Mulder sitting across from her.

“So, Dana,” Bill Jr called out down the table. “I heard you got a new partner at work. What was his name? Daggett?”

“John Doggett,” Scully replied, turning to look at her brother’s face, reddened from the brandy-spiked eggnog. She wondered how many glasses her big brother had had so far.

Bill Jr nodded. “So, uh, this… Doggett. Is he anything like your last partner?”

It seemed to Mulder that Bill Jr’s new strategy was to pretend as though he wasn’t even in the room, which might turn out to be an improvement.

“Bill…,” said Scully, her tone thick with warning.

“Well, it’s an important question, Dana,” said Bill Jr. “Look at what happened with your last partner. He just up and disappeared, leaving you in the lurch. I knew he’d pull that shit someday.”

Maggie’s eyes widened. “Bill! Watch your language. The children are in the other room. And Father McCue certainly doesn’t want to hear that kind of talk.”

The priest shifted in his chair awkwardly, but then leaned back with his glass of water and silently watched the scene unfold. The rest of the table either stared at Bill Jr, or Scully, or Maggie, or at their cherry cobbler, not knowing where to look.

Bill Jr scowled, and took another sip of his drink. “So where’d he go, Dana? And don’t tell me some wacky theory about flying saucers. Mulder probably ran off with some bimbo. Probably got her pregnant, too.”

“Bill Junior!” exclaimed Maggie.

“Knock it off, Bill,” said Charlie, his voice steady and even, but just as steely as the look on his face. Jennifer, who was sitting on the other side of Scully, placed her left hand on her husband’s forearm, hoping things would calm down before they escalated.

He turned on his younger brother. “Why are you always defending him, _Chuck?_ ” he asked, his voice full of derision. “You know just as well as I do everything he did to her.”

Mulder wanted the earth to open up and swallow him. He also wanted to punch Scully’s older brother in the throat.

Father McCue, wanting to veer the conversation towards a nicer topic, turned to Scully. “So, Dana, have you thought of when you’d like to have the baby christened?”

“What?” asked Mulder, surprised. He looked at Scully, but she averted her eyes.

“Well, um, Father McCue…,” said Scully, before pausing. “Mulder and I haven’t really talked about that yet.”

The priest gave her a look of surprise. “Aren’t you going to raise your child in the Catholic faith? You’d be denying your son or daughter the priceless grace of becoming a child of God if you were not to provide Baptism shortly after the birth.”

Scully looked nervously from the priest to Mulder, whose brows were furrowed. He hadn’t even given one thought to religion, to Scully’s faith, and how that would impact how the kid was raised.

“Uh, Father, Mulder here isn’t Catholic,” announced Bill Jr. “Don’t expect Dana’s child to be christened. So not only has Mulder given my sister a bastard, the child’s gonna end up burning in Hell for all eternity. Congratulations, Dana.” He sarcastically lifted his eggnog glass and took another swig. Her eyes widened, unable to believe what her brother had said.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Mulder said, turning sharply at Scully’s older brother.

“Jesus, Bill,” muttered Charlie. Jennifer looked worriedly at Scully. Tara stared wide-eyed at her husband.

Maggie abruptly stood up from the table. “William David Scully Jr! You get in the kitchen. Right now!” She then started walking towards him, and Bill Jr’s eyes widened at the look of fury in his mother’s face. He got up from the table, and turned to walk toward the kitchen, his mother following closely behind him. Immediately after they departed the room, Charlie, Scully, Jennifer, and Tara all stood up and followed them.

“You going to go with them?” Father McCue asked Mulder, giving him a slight grin. The others at the table started digging into their dessert and talking quietly amongst themselves.

He cleared his throat, and jabbed his fork into the cobbler. “I figure it’s a family matter. The family will handle it. I’m sure it’s better for me to stay out here.”

The priest nodded. “Well, you’re part of the family now, aren’t you? I’m sure Dana would like you to be in there.”

Mulder shrugged. “It’d probably just make the situation worse.”

“Bill Scully Jr has been the man of the family for quite a long time,” Father McCue stated. “And not just since his father passed away, God rest his soul. Bill Scully Sr was away from home often, and sometimes months and months at a time. Bill Jr would take charge of the household, and Maggie let him. Bill can be a hard man, stern, and it’s often difficult for his younger siblings to challenge his sense of authority. Even Maggie, to a certain extent. But there are times when someone needs to, and should. I think that someone is you.” The priest then smiled, stabbing his fork into the flaky crust of his dessert. “Mr. Mulder, you have just as much right to be in the kitchen as Tara and Jennifer do.”

He sighed, nodded, and then got up from the table. As Mulder walked across the dining room, he felt the eyes of everyone on him, but then he stepped through the swinging door into the kitchen, joining the family. He immediately saw that tempers hadn’t died down at all. Mrs. Scully sat at the small circular table, arms crossed, and stared daggers at her eldest son.

“For God’s sake, Dana!” Bill Jr exclaimed, standing in front of the refrigerator. “Why do you even stay with him? It’s because of him you got cancer. It’s because of him Melissa was killed.”

“Things that have happened to me in the past, and Missy’s death… Mulder is not responsible. They were caused by forces outside his control, outside my control.” Scully was standing with her back against the counter, flanked by her sisters-in-law. As Mulder gazed upon this scene, he wondered at how Bill Jr could face down the icy looks he was getting from these three women.

“How can you say that? They wouldn’t have even happened if you’d never worked with him! And then he goes and gets you pregnant, and then runs out on you! He’s not welcome here. He’s hurt this family enough.”

“Bill Jr, this is my house,” said Maggie firmly. “And if I say Fox is welcome here, then he is.”

Scully heaved a sigh. “He didn’t run out on me, Bill.”

“No, I didn’t,” said Mulder, and everyone turned to look at him standing in front of the kitchen door, still slightly swinging. Scully smiled, a sense of relief filling her. Jennifer and Tara also gave him reassuring looks. “I was taken by force. I would never leave her of my own volition. She means everything to me. I could never abandon her, as you seem to think I’ve done.”

Bill Jr glared at him. “Oh, that’s right. You were abducted by those little green men you’re always chasing around. Is that it?”

Scully had had it up to here with her brother. “Yes, Bill. That’s exactly what happened.”

“Well, that’s just great,” Bill Jr said. “You believe that crap now, too. What kind of brainwashing did you get at the FBI, Dana? Why didn’t you just stick with an honorable career? Dad wanted you to stay with medicine. How do you think he’d react to your current situation?”

“Don’t you dare bring Dad into this,” replied Scully, a steely glint in her eyes.

“William David, you’ve said about enough tonight,” Maggie said, standing up from the table. “Not to mention drank enough.” She sighed. “Your father loved you all and always supported your own personal decisions.”

Charlie scoffed and folded his arms, leaning against the sink.

Maggie eyed her youngest child. “Yes, Charles. Even you.” She then glanced between her three living children. “Your dad might not have always agreed with your choices or understood them, but he never stopped you from making them. He let you be your own person.” She paused, and then turned on her eldest. “Bill Jr, your father did not rule this household with an iron fist. Dana is a grown woman, who is capable of making her own choices. She doesn’t need anyone’s approval, and least of all yours.”

Mulder sighed. “If I could have prevented Scully’s abduction, or her cancer, or Melissa’s murder, I would have. You have no idea how much I wish those things had never happened. I never forced Scully to work with me. She was free to leave me at any time, if she wished to do so. The fact that she did remain with our work, despite the tragedies that befell both of us, is a testament to her integrity. Not only as an FBI agent and a scientist, but as a human being. She paid a price for her integrity. And unfortunately, that price includes the life of someone precious to you. For that, I am deeply sorry.”

He sighed again, pausing, and silence filled the kitchen as he stared at Bill Jr. “But I’m never going to apologize for my relationship with Scully, or for her pregnancy. And if you ever call her child a bastard again, you’re gonna regret it.”

Mulder then turned around and walked back through the swinging kitchen door to the dining room, resuming his spot at the table crosswise from Father McCue, who gave him a nod and a wink.

At 9:30 pm, all the guests had since departed, and the Scully family started getting ready to attend Midnight Mass at St. John’s Church. Mulder grabbed his jacket off the wall hook by the front door, and helped Scully slip on her coat.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to just wait for you here?” he asked.

“No, that’s okay,” she replied. “Charlie said he’d drive me home afterwards.”

Mulder sighed. “Are you… upset I’m not going to church with your family?”

Scully gave him an incredulous look. “I never expected you to go. I know it’s not your thing. I know…” She paused, averting her eyes. “I know you have issues with Catholicism, Mulder.”

He gazed at her as she buttoned up her black wool coat. “Scully, do you believe that if a priest doesn’t sprinkle some water over the kid’s head, he’s going to face eternal torment?”

“I don’t know if I believe in a literal, fiery Hell, Mulder.” She sighed, and looked up into his face.

“So then what’s the point of christening?” he asked, zipping up his black leather jacket.

Before she could reply, her mother and brothers approached the front door, along with their wives and their combined six children. A moment later, they all exited the house. The Scully clan filled up both Jennifer’s silver minivan and the rented minivan Bill Jr had gotten at the airport after his family’s flight had landed earlier that afternoon.

Mulder stood outside the passenger door of Charlie and Jennifer’s van, helping Scully get into the front seat. She turned to smile at him, and he leaned over, kissing her softly. Ben and Jack chuckled in the back seat as Mulder pulled away.

“Stop it,” Jennifer commanded, and their quiet laughter died immediately.

Scully smirked at her partner. “I should be home by 11:30.”

He nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”

“I’m really sorry about Bill Jr,” she whispered, her brows knitting.

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about,” he whispered back. “Bill Jr has every right to hate me. I’d hate me too, if I was him. I don’t want you to worry about it.”

Charlie exchanged a look with Jennifer in the rearview mirror as Scully sighed. Mulder then grinned at her. “Say a few Hail Marys for me. You know, just in case.” He leaned over, quickly kissing her on the cheek, and she smiled. He closed the passenger side door, and as he got into the driver’s seat of his partner’s sedan, he watched the two minivans packed full with Scullys back out of the driveway and head towards Midnight Mass.


	98. "Every Native American knew, whether he believed the story or not, that this was a powerful omen and that great changes were coming."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder does some reading. Scully returns home after attending Midnight Mass with her family, and exchanges gifts with Mulder. They then head back to Margaret Scully's house on Christmas Day.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from the episode "Essence" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enya – “I Want Tomorrow”
> 
> Dawn breaks; there is blue in the sky  
> Your face before me  
> Though I don't know why  
> Thoughts disappearing like tears from the Moon
> 
> Waiting here, as I sit by the stone  
> They came before me  
> Those men from the Sun  
> Signs from the heavens say I am the one
> 
> Now you're here, I can see your light  
> This light that I must follow  
> You, you may take my life away  
> So far away  
> Now I know I must leave your spell  
> I want tomorrow
> 
> Now you're here, I can see your light  
> This light that I must follow  
> You, you may take my life away  
> So far away  
> Now I know I must leave your spell  
> I want tomorrow

It was close to 10:00 pm on Christmas Eve when Mulder arrived back home at Scully’s apartment in Georgetown. The place was quiet and dark, yet illuminated by the snow and city lights outside the living room windows. After shutting the door and turning on a couple lamps, he sat on the couch and sighed, thinking over the events of the evening. He felt bad that Mrs. Scully’s party had been ruined. The heartless things Bill Jr had said under the influence of too much alcohol still rankled. The last thing Mulder wanted was to create a wedge between Scully and the rest of her family. The last thing he wanted was to cause any more problems for them than he had already. And then there was the question of christening the baby, which Scully had clearly avoided talking to him about.

Faith was obviously something that was very important to Scully’s family. Her and her brothers had been raised around the Catholic Church, and even now as adults it was strongly entrenched in their lives. Mulder wasn’t necessarily opposed to Scully teaching the kid about her beliefs, her faith in God. But Mulder still felt unsure about the whole God question, felt he couldn’t give a confident answer either way. How would the way he and Scully differed in this area affect the child and his own evolving belief system as he grows older? What kind of answers would Mulder give when asked? And what of the ultimate question the boy would one day ask? The one Mulder doubted he would ever have the answer to?

They called it the miracle of life. Conception. A union of perfect opposites. Essence transforming into existence, an act without which mankind would not exist and humanity cease to exist. Or was that just nostalgia now? An act of biology commandeered by modern science and technology? Godlike, they extracted, implanted, inseminated, and they cloned. But had their ingenuity rendered the miracle into a simple trick? In the artifice of replicating life could they become the Creator? Then what of the soul? Could it, too, be replicated? Did it live in that matter they called DNA? Or was its placement the opposite of artifice, capable only by God?

How had this child come to be? What set its heart beating? Was it the product of a union? Or the work of a divine hand? An answered prayer? A true miracle? Or was it a wonder of technology, the intervention of other hands? What would he tell this child about to be born? What should he tell Scully? What could he tell himself?

Mulder heaved a sigh and glanced at his watch. It wasn’t even 10:30. He still had about an hour or so before Scully would be home from church. He turned on the television, but there wasn’t much for choice. He ended up leaving the TV on _It’s a Wonderful Life_. But then he glanced over at the bookcase, noticing _Native American Beliefs and Practices_ had returned to the shelf, and remembered he hadn’t gotten very far in the book.

He stood up and walked over to pull the book from the shelf, and then returned to the couch. After lowering the volume on the television, Mulder opened _Native American Beliefs and Practices_ to the page where he’d bent the corner to save his place, and began to read.

*****

Chapter Four – The Anasazi Miracle Children: Nayénezgání, Slayer of Alien Gods, and Haséyadóbá, She Rises to End War

When the Holy Spirit People came upon this earth from the heavens above, they created six sacred mountains, one each at the four cardinal points on the distant horizon, and two at the center, Tzalhnúhodáhlá and Chónli. The land became beautiful and plentiful, and the Holy People rejoiced. On the sacred mountain Tzalhnúhodáhlá, the First Man and First Woman received the breath of life, gifted to them by Mother Earth and Father Sun. And from First Man and First Woman came the First Native Peoples. They grew in strength and number, spreading out from Tzalhnúhodáhlá over the bountiful land, and the Holy People rejoiced.

After some time, darkness fell over the land, far and wide, and the earth became infested with great monsters, alien gods from a foreign land. Also in those days, the Skinchangers began roaming the earth, an abomination created by the alien gods. The Holy People looked down upon the earth, upon these Skinchangers, and believed the monsters were mocking their creation of Man. For the Skinchangers had the appearance of men, but men they were not. The alien gods would also bring with them a deadly plague to infect the Native Peoples.

The Holy People, foreseeing mass extinction, asked Mother Earth and Father Sun for a savior. One night, Mother Earth caused great rains to come upon Tzalhnúhodáhlá, and in the morning, Father Sun warmed the land. Out of the sunbeams and shining drops of water, it was believed the savior that the Holy People had asked for was born. He came to be called Tóbájíshchíní, Born From Water.

Tóbájíshchíní grew mighty and powerful. Time and time again the alien gods tried to defeat him, but they had no success for the Holy People were with him. But he was sad and alone. The Holy People, seeing it was not good for him to continue dwelling alone, asked Mother Earth to send him a helper. On the eastern slope of Chónli, brought forth as the daughter of Earth and Sky, was born White Shell Woman, Yólkai Estsán. A few days passed before Tóbájíshchíní found Yólkai Estsán sleeping, and he then brought her back to his home near Tzalhnúhodáhlá. In just seven days she matured into a beautiful woman, and as the sun set on the seventh day, White Shell Woman finally awoke. Upon waking, Tóbájíshchíní moved her into her own home at the foot of the sacred mountain.

In those days, the alien gods began fighting each other. New monsters, the Chikáshshá, rebels, horribly disfigured and cruel, started to wage war with the other alien gods, to fight the plague, to prevent the extinction of the People. 

During this time, a great and powerful love eventually blossomed between Tóbájíshchíní and Yólkai Estsán. But Tóbájíshchíní, unable to devise a way to defeat the alien gods who had begun destroying the people, became restless, and Yólkai Estsán grew unhappy.

“You are too much like your father, the fickle sun!” White Shell Woman would tell him. “For he is here for a short while, and then he disappears into the night.”

Tóbájíshchíní would feel hurt at his heart, for he loved White Shell Woman deeply, and would then remain with her for a time. But this would not last, and again he left her to fight the monsters. One day, Yólkai Estsán went to the eastern slope of Tzalhnúhodáhlá as the sun began to rise through the morning. She lay down on the soft ground, and wept. She prayed to the Holy People to send Tóbájíshchíní back to her.

As the sun moved higher in the sky and the day grew warm, Father Sun looked down upon White Shell Woman and was moved with pity. With the power the Holy People had given him to create the life of Tóbájíshchíní, Father Sun caused that life force to grow inside Yólkai Estsán. Quite unknown to herself, she conceived that morning on the eastern slope of Tzalhnúhodáhlá.

As the sun began to set, White Shell Woman returned to her home at the foot of the mountain. After it had been many days and nights since Tóbájíshchíní had returned home to Tzalhnúhodáhlá, she became fearful that the alien gods had found him and killed him. But when she became aware that she was going to be a mother, Yólkai Estsán was made very happy, for she did not enjoy living alone.

Soon after, White Shell Woman traveled to the eastern slope of Chónli, the place of her birth, and suddenly she found herself the proud possessor of a son, whose prenatal life had only lasted twelve days. She wondered how this could be, for she knew women carried their children for many months. White Shell Woman then took her son home to Tzalhnúhodáhlá. After only thirty days, her infant child had matured into a young boy with supernatural powers. But Tóbájíshchíní had yet to return home, and fearing the alien gods would learn of their son and his power, Yólkai Estsán wanted to hide the boy someplace far away. Returning to the eastern slope of Chónli, White Shell Woman laid her son on the soft grass, and after singing him to sleep, the Wind Spirit People took him to the sacred mountain of the west, Dook’o’oostííd.

On Dook’o’oostííd lived Kʼíídeesdizí and his wife, Neinilí. For many years they prayed to the Holy People to give them children, but the womb of Neinilí was barren and children never came. But the Holy People were listening to the prayers of Kʼíídeesdizí and Neinilí, and knew their hearts to be pure and good. The Holy People then blessed them, allowing them to raise the son of White Shell Woman as their own, and the Wind People brought him to the home of Kʼíídeesdizí and Neinilí. There the boy lived in secret, hidden away from the monsters roaming the earth.

When Tóbájíshchíní returned home to Tzalhnúhodáhlá, White Shell woman told him of their son, but she could not tell him where the boy had gone. For many years, he searched for his son, but could not find him, for the Holy People had not allowed it.

In time, the son of White Shell Woman realized that Kʼíídeesdizí and Neinilí were not his birth parents. He asked them, “Who is my father?” And “Who is my mother?” But they did not know. As he grew older, the peoples living on the sacred mountain began to see signs of the boy’s powers. The Wind People whispered of the son of Yólkai Estsán, of the supernatural deeds he performed on Dook’o’oostííd.

The Chikáshshá heard the whispers of the Wind People, and knew this child to be the son of Tóbájíshchíní, the one who could destroy the alien gods and save the Native Peoples from extinction. Descending upon the sacred mountain of Dook’o’oostííd, the Chikáshshá invaded the home of Kʼíídeesdizí and Neinilí, believing them to be preventing the boy from going to his father and learning his destiny. Although deeply saddened, the Holy People did not intervene, knowing the time soon approached for the son of White Shell Woman to return to his birth parents.

After the sacred burial of Kʼíídeesdizí and Neinilí, the elders of Dook’o’oostííd did not know what to do with the boy. The other peoples of the mountain feared him and the whispers of his powers. The boy asked all around if anyone knew of his father, but no one could give him the answers he sought. One day, he came upon Na’ashjéii Asdzáá, Spider Woman. The Holy People then granted Spider Woman the power to become the boy’s benefactor, and to help him with his journey.

“I must caution you,” the woman said. “The land is cursed with alien gods who kill for pleasure. Beware of them! Why are you all alone without your father?”

“My father! I know nothing of him and am now beginning a search to learn. Do you know who he is?” the boy asked.

“Yes, the Sun is your father, for he is the father of all,” answered Spider Woman. “But if you think to find him you will have to travel far eastward, crossing much land and many waters.” Spider Woman also heard the whispered warnings of the Wind People, and told the boy that if he failed on his quest to find his father, the alien gods would take the boy and use his powers to help them rapidly destroy the People, and then the World would end.

“Ha’a’aahjigo dighádídeeshwot,” the boy said. “I will run to the east.”                         

The Sun was directly overhead, and watched the boy closely as he made his journey eastward. Being of a holy nature, with supernatural powers, and aided by Spider Woman, by the mid-afternoon they had traveled beyond the boundaries of their homeland. As the day grew short, Father Sun didn’t want to leave the boy without someone to watch over him, and so the Holy People created a star in the eastern night sky, to burn brightly and guide the boy home. The boy, not wanting to stop, traveled through the night, and on the very next morning after departing Dook’o’oostííd in the west, he found the sacred mountain of Chónli, the place of his birth.

From the peoples of Chónli, Spider Woman and the boy learned that his mother was Yólkai Estsán, White Shell Woman, and that she no longer lived on the mountain. The boy then set out for the nearby sacred mountain of Tzalhnúhodáhlá, and started to climb to the top. On his way up the mountain, Spider Woman and the boy came across his godfather, Haashchʼééttiʼí.

“Well done,” said Haashchʼééttiʼí to his godson. “You have grown into what you needed to become. Now you can return to those who gave you life.”

Haashchʼééttiʼí then led the boy to the very top of Tzalhnúhodáhlá, where he found White Shell Woman.

“Mother, who is my father?” the boy asked her.

“You have no father,” she answered.

“But I must have a father,” replied the boy.

“Your father is a cactus, then,” White Shell Woman responded angrily. “Be still.”

White Shell Woman then walked down the mountain, to the home she now shared with Tóbájíshchíní, but she spoke nothing about the boy. In the night, while Yólkai Estsán was sleeping, Haashchʼééttiʼí came to the home and told Tóbájíshchíní that his son had returned to Tzalhnúhodáhlá. But Tóbájíshchíní, crushed and broken at heart, could not believe him.

Later that night, when Tóbájíshchíní lay down next to Yólkai Estsán, the Holy People sent him a dream, and in the morning, he went out to find his son. Tóbájíshchíní reached the top of the mountain at midday, and there he saw the boy. Father Sun, being directly overhead, then spoke to the boy and told him of his miraculous birth and how the Holy People had chosen him to save the Native People from the alien gods. Tóbájíshchíní was then allowed to bring his son back to his home at the foot of the mountain. Over the next three months, Tóbájíshchíní taught the boy all about the monsters roaming the land, destroying the people without mercy. Yólkai Estsán and Tóbájíshchíní gave the boy weapons, and taught him how to fight. During the three months he spent learning from his birth parents, White Shell Woman conceived another child, a gift from the Holy People, and gave birth to a daughter. She too was granted supernatural powers by the Holy People.

One morning, White Shell Woman climbed a hill. Looking into the distance, she saw many monsters approaching Tzalhnúhodáhlá from the north, from the south, and from the west. The Chikáshshá could also be seen, and the Skinchangers. When she turned around, she saw her son had climbed up the hill behind her.

“The alien monsters are coming for me,” the boy said. “I must leave so that you will be safe.”

White Shell Woman tried to prevent him from going, but Tóbájíshchíní told her the boy must go, or they would all perish. The boy, armed with his weapons and supernatural powers gifted to him by the Holy People, descended the mountain and went into battle. He swiftly defeated Yéʼiitsoh, the Big Giant, Déélgééd, the Horned Monster. Two of the great monsters were now dead. The plan of the Holy People was being fulfilled. The boy then came to be called, Nayénezgání, Slayer of Alien Gods.

In only a few days after coming down from the mountain of Tzalhnúhodáhlá, Nayénezgání had also killed Tsé Nináhálééh, Monster Eagle, Tsé dah Hódziittátii, Monster Who Kicks People Down the Cliff, and Binááʼ yee Aghání, the Monsters That Kill with Their Eyes.

"The alien gods must have all been destroyed now," said White Shell Woman.

The Wind People whispered into the ear of Nayénezgání, "Some still survive. But they are not for you to defeat alone. You must bring your sister.”

Grabbing hold of his sister’s hand, Nayénezgání said to his mother, “Tell me where I can find Sá, the One Who Brings Old Age, Téʼéʼj Dineʼé, the Poverty Monsters, Hakʼaz Asdzáá, the Sick Woman, and Dichin Hastíín, the Hunger Man.”

“There is no need for you to seek them,” White Shell Woman said.

But the Wind People whispered their dwelling places in the ear of Nayénezgání and, unbeknownst to his parents, along with his younger sister, went out to defeat the last remaining enemies of the Native Peoples. In the morning when they found their two children gone, they immediately set out to find them. Tóbájíshchíní wanted to search in the east, but Yólkai Estsán wanted to search in the west. Discord broke out between them.

While arguing, their children returned home to them, announcing the defeat of Old Age, Poverty, Sickness, and Hunger. And so their daughter came to be called Haséyadóbá, She Rises to End War. Peace had come to the Native Peoples, and the Holy People rejoiced. While Shell Woman wanted the family to settle out west, but Tóbájíshchíní wanted to remain in the east. However, Yólkai Estsán told him that he could no longer reside like his father the Sun, that he must stay and be with her always, must always come home at the end of his day's work.

“Why are you making this demand of me?” asked Tóbájíshchíní. “Why must I go to stay in the west? You know I am restless by nature, that I cannot remain in one place for long.”

"I will tell you why,” White Shell Woman replied. “You are male and I am female. You are of the sky and I am of the earth. While your brightness shines constantly, I change with the seasons. Remember that I willingly let you lay with me and I gave birth to your children, enduring pain to bring them into the world. As different as we are, we are of one spirit, we are of equal worth. There must be solidarity between us. Unless there is harmony between you and I, there can be no harmony in the universe.”

Tóbájíshchíní carefully weighed all that Yólkai Estsán had said. Then he slowly placed his arm around her and promised her that she would have all the things she wished for. They would dwell together in harmony for the rest of their days.

Now when White Shell Woman walks in the four directions from her Floating White Shell House Over the Sparkling Waters of the West, she undergoes a change. She comes out of her house an old woman with a white shell walking stick. She walks toward the east and then returns middle-aged, carrying no walking stick. To the south she walks and she returns a young woman. She walks to the shore of the west and comes back a maiden. She goes north and returns a young girl. She is always changing, but never dying. Often she and Tóbájíshchíní, Born From Water, are in harmony. At times they argue and he does not return to her home at the end of his day’s journey. At those times thunder and lightning fill the sky, and the whole earth suffers.

*****

Mulder concluded chapter four of _Native American Beliefs and Practices_ , and slowly closed the book. He realized that as he read the chapter, he heard the words in Albert Hosteen’s voice, as if Albert had been speaking them. It had been an interesting story, part creation legend and part apocalyptic prophecy. Mulder again thought of the miracle of life, of conception, of childbirth. He thought of Scully’s faith in God. Was the baby simply a blessing? A gift? A kindness from a benevolent higher power? Or was the child the result of human intervention, created in a lab? Would either answer change how he felt about the child, or about Scully? He immediately knew the answer, before his mind had even finished forming the question.

Glancing at his watch, Mulder quickly got up from the couch and walked over to the fireplace. After starting a fire with some crumpled up pages of old editions of _The New York Times_ and small pieces of kindling, soon he was adding logs inside the fireplace, stoking them into a lively blaze. The fire in the hearth bathed the living room in a warm, golden glow and filled the air with a rich, earthy perfume.

After setting the tea kettle on the stove to boil, he made a quick trip to the bathroom to empty his bladder and into the bedroom to grab something from his dresser drawer. Mulder was then walking back into the living room as he heard Scully’s key in the door lock. Pleasant butterflies filled his stomach, and he tried to stop himself from smiling like an idiot, but it was difficult. He walked towards the door as it opened, and Scully smiled as she saw Mulder approach the doorway.

In no time he’d crossed the space between them, and his hands were then holding her face, tilting her slightly upwards to meet his descending mouth. And then his lips were on hers, before she’d even been able to close the door. Scully’s arms went up around Mulder’s neck as he lowered his hands from her face, and after he pushed the door closed, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her as close to him as possible.

Chuckling, she broke the kiss and looked up at him. “That’s some greeting.”

“I missed you,” he said in a low voice, his hands going to the buttons of her wool coat and he began unfastening them.

“You were just with me less than two hours ago,” she replied, smirking.

Mulder nodded, removing her coat and hanging it on the rack by the door. “And that’s about all I could stand right now.”

Scully let out a breathy laugh, and then a loud whistling was heard coming from the kitchen. He gently let go of his hold on her, and Mulder walked over to the stove as she took in the atmosphere of the living room. There wasn’t a tree. Or any Christmas decorations. Neither was there a wreath on her front door or twinkle lights hanging anywhere. Not even a sprig of mistletoe. She had felt excited about Christmas and had wanted to go get a tree and decorate it with Mulder. But he’d scoffed at the idea, and claimed he hadn’t bought a Christmas tree in 20 years. Scully had wondered what it would take for him to get into the spirit of things, or if maybe he just naturally wasn’t a very festive person.

But the crackling fire in the hearth made her smile, and she slowly walked through the living room and into the hallway, before heading into her bedroom, by way of her bathroom, thanks to the fact her son had a knee or an elbow jammed against her bladder. But after nearly falling in, she groaned in frustration as she slammed the lid back down. Once she'd entered her bedroom, she went into her closet and opened the wooden chest she’d kept in there, and removed Mulder’s Christmas gift. She then returned to the living room, and lowered herself down onto the couch.

"You know, Mulder," Scully called out. "If I fall in the toilet, you're gonna have to get a crane to get me out. It's much easier to just put the seat back down."

"Sorry!" he called out in response.

A minute later, Mulder entered the room, carrying two steaming mugs, one purple and one black, and then set them on the coffee table before he sat next to her on the couch.

“Hot chocolate with marshmallows,” he said, waggling his eyebrows and handing her the purple mug.

“Sounds wonderful,” she replied, reaching out take it from him.

They sipped from their mugs in companionable silence for a few minutes, enjoying the sights, sounds, and smells of the fireplace. Scully then glanced at her partner beside her, and broke the silence.

“Mulder, why didn’t you want to get a Christmas tree?” she asked.

He sighed, and then paused as he took another sip of his hot chocolate. “The last time I went shopping for a Christmas tree, I was a senior in college. I was going to spend the holiday with my dad that year, and he wanted to get a tree. I was shocked, as we hadn’t put up a tree in the living room since Samantha’s abduction. After the divorce, no one bothered doing much for the holidays. And when we did, it was usually an unpleasant experience. But, anyways, for some reason, my dad wanted to do it that year. Later, he’d said that because I was going off to Oxford, he didn’t know when the next time would be when we’d get to spend the holidays together. So we put up the tree, decorated it, sat around the living room drinking hot toddies and listening to Bing Crosby’s _Merry Christmas_ album on the vinyl record player.”

Scully smiled to herself as he paused, picturing him with his father in such a scene.

“It was the nicest Christmas I’d had since I could remember, since the last Christmas with Samantha,” continued Mulder. “My dad even told me how proud he was of me, and that he loved me. And so naturally, it made me feel like shit and I vowed never to do the holiday thing again.” He sighed. “The tree, the gifts, the music, parties… all of it. It just reminded me of when I used to have a family that did those things together and I didn’t have a family anymore, not really.”

“You have a family now,” Scully said, looking over at him.

He smirked. “And Bill Jr is absolutely thrilled about that.”

She sighed, and shook her head. She then started chuckling. “Mom made Bill Jr stay in the van in the parking lot while we all went inside for Mass because he wasn’t sober.”

“Jesus Christ, he really went to town on that eggnog, didn’t he?” said Mulder.

“It’s really not like him to drink like that,” she replied. “He’s usually very controlled.”

He stared at her. “Gee, I wonder what set him off…”

Scully heaved a sigh. “He’ll get over it. He normally does.”

“I think you underestimate just how much the man loathes me,” Mulder replied.

“I don’t wanna talk about Bill Jr anymore,” she said, handing her nearly empty mug of hot chocolate to him, and he set it down on the coffee table.

After setting his own mug down on the table to join hers, he turned to sit sideways facing her. “So then what do you want to talk about?”

She grinned, and turned towards him. “Well… I know that we said we weren’t going to exchange gifts this year…”

“We always say that and then we always do it anyway,” Mulder said with a smirk.

“Last year we didn’t,” Scully corrected him.

He nodded, acknowledging she was right. “Christmas last year sucked. I think I spent the entire time either drunk or nursing a hangover.”

“Last year sucked,” she replied. “Know how bad last year was? This year you were abducted and died, and this was still a better year than last year.”

Mulder started laughing.

Scully smiled. “I guess the good parts of this year far outweigh the bad things that happened. There weren’t very many good parts last year.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, his laughter having died down. “Last year was rough.” He sighed. “So what were you saying about gifts we tell each other we’re not gonna get, but then we do anyways?”

She snorted. “Right. Well…”

Scully turned and reached to her other side, pulling a small giftwrapped box from behind one of the couch pillows, and held it out to him in the palm of her hand.

“Jewelry?” he quipped. The only response he got was an arched eyebrow and a shake of the head.

Mulder grinned excitedly, and he reached for the shiny blue box. With a steady gaze, she watched his face as he concentrated on removing the wrapping paper. Once he’d separated the box with the wrapper, he took off the lid, setting it down on the couch, and then his eyes widened as he looked inside.

“Oh, my God,” he breathed. “Where did you find this?”

Inside the small box was a sterling silver Zippo lighter, engraved with the initials W E M. It had belonged to Mulder’s father, but if he remembered correctly, his dad’s old lighter was pretty worn out and it no longer worked. This Zippo lighter was shiny, as if brand new, and as he flipped it open, he saw that it did indeed work.

Scully smiled. “It was in your old dresser, buried at the bottom of a box, in your apartment in Alexandria. I sent it back to the Zippo company a few weeks ago to be refurbished. I thought you might like it. At least, for sentimental reasons.”

He felt his throat tighten, and tears pricked his eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” she replied, smiling, her heart filling with emotion at the look on his face. “Except… what does the letter ‘E’ stand for?”

“Edward,” he said. “My dad’s middle name.”

Scully thought of how normal Mulder’s family’s names were. “How in the world did you ever get the name Fox?”

Mulder chuckled. “I don’t know. My mom gave it to me. Dad sometimes joked that it had been the drugs talking.” She snorted, and he turned to look at her, memories coming back to him of his dad pulling the lighter from his pocket to light his cigarettes, or sometimes just absentmindedly snapping it open and shut as he sat in their living room, the sound every bit as reassuring to him as a kid as the sound of crunching sunflower seeds. “You have no idea how much this means to me."

She smiled, and he leaned over to kiss her softly, before pulling away. Mulder then turned and opened the drawer of the side table, retrieving what he’d grabbed from the bedroom earlier, and turned back to Scully. He then handed her a sealed, plain white envelope.

“Did you name a constellation after me?” Scully asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No,” he replied, laughing.

“Planted a tree in my name? Purchased a goat for a family living in an impoverished country? Donated to MUFON on my behalf?”

Mulder kept laughing. “Would you just open it!”

Scully took the envelope from his hand, and using her forefinger, she tore an opening at the top, and pulled out a gift certificate to The Fountain Day Spa in the affluent Spring Valley neighborhood of DC. Her eyes widened in delight as she saw the certificate was for ‘The Prenatal Luxury Package,’ which included a manicure, pedicure, facial, Comfort Zone leg treatment for tired and swollen feet, and Mom-to-Be prenatal massage.

“Oh, Mulder!” A huge smile spread over her face. “This is wonderful!”

“You could use a day to relax and take things easy,” he replied. “Slow down, like you’re supposed to.”

She leaned over, her arm going around his neck, and kissed him on the cheek. “I can’t wait to schedule the appointment.”

He nodded. “Try to get it as close to your due date as possible. That way you’ll look glamorous on the video.”

“What video?” she asked, her eyes squinting suspiciously and brows knitting.

“Come on, Scully,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “If Lamaze taught us anything, it’s that a video camera’s natural home is between the legs of a pregnant woman in labor.”

She threw out her arm and slapped him on his bicep, and he chuckled. “You bring a camera anywhere near me and they’re gonna have to get you your own hospital room to recover from your injuries.”

Mulder sighed, shaking his head in phony disappointment. “You always threaten bodily harm.”

“It’s the only threat that works,” Scully quipped.

He grinned and leaned over, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer, resting his hand on her belly, feeling the baby kick against his hand. As Mulder’s lips pressed against hers, a passage from the end of the chapter he’d read earlier suddenly came forward in his mind, a speech the White Shell Woman had said to her mate, Born From Water.

Breaking free of the kiss, he gazed into Scully’s face and she smiled at him, her eyes full of love and affection. “Is it important to you that the baby is christened?” Mulder whispered.

“Yes,” Scully whispered back.

He smiled, and nodded. “Okay.” Mulder then recaptured her lips, gathering her closer in his arms, before he moved to cradle her face, cupping it in his hand as his lips moved softly against hers. As he held Scully in his arms and kissed her deeply, he thought they too were of one spirit, they were of equal worth, believing that he'd never felt more connected to her than he did at that moment.

*****

The following morning, Mulder and Scully were back in Alexandria for the 6:00 family roll call at the Christmas tree in Margaret Scully’s living room. Bill Jr wisely didn’t say much, no doubt out of a sense of shame for his behavior the night before. He looked a little worse for wear, and Mulder couldn’t help but silently hope that Bill Jr was having the worst hangover ever known to man.

The children went first, and excitedly opened their presents from parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles. Mulder started to feel somewhat guilty, as he hadn’t bought gifts for any of the Scully family members. It had been so long since he participated in anything close to normal family traditions that he no longer thought he was ever expected to do anything. But as he observed the Scullys opening their presents, smiling and laughing, hugging and kissing, he realized that they clearly weren’t at all bothered that he’d come to this family gathering empty-handed.

Then he watched Jennifer pull a rectangular box from underneath the tree, covered in shiny ice blue wrapping paper with silver snowflakes, and walk over to him. “To Mulder. From Santa.” She winked, and handed him the gift.

Feeling shocked, Mulder took the box from her and looked at Scully next to him. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. She had no idea what was in the box. No one had asked her anything about getting a gift for him, about things he liked, wanted, or needed.

With a sudden feeling of nerves in the pit of his stomach, Mulder ripped open the wrapping paper and lifted the white lid of the gift box. After pushing aside the white tissue paper, he then lifted out a black t-shirt with yellow letters on the chest, in a font similar to the _Star Wars_ prologue, which read ‘Best Dad in the Galaxy.’ He started chuckling, and showed it to Scully, who grinned and then looked over at Charlie. He winked at her.

There was one more item in the gift box, underneath the t-shirt, and Mulder pulled out a newborn onesie with a print of Darth Vader’s head on the front with the phrase ‘Who’s Your Daddy’ surrounding it in large, red letters. Mulder really cracked up laughing, and Scully rolled her eyes, smirking at him.

After all the gifts had been opened, everyone crashed in Maggie’s living room and settled in to watch some selected family favorite holiday movies. Jack came over and took the spot on the couch on the other side of Scully, placing his hands on her belly and telling the baby to wake up. Mulder watched Scully smile and run her fingers through her nephew's hair. While Charlie inserted the VHS tape of _A Christmas Story_ into the VCR, Bill Jr stood up from the recliner, clearing his throat, and everyone turned to look at him.

“I would just like to apologize to my family for my behavior last night,” he said. “It was very inappropriate and I deeply regret it. Dana.. I am especially sorry for what I said about your baby. I hope you know that I don’t really feel that way about your child, regardless of… whatever choices you make.”

Everyone remained quiet for a moment.

“It’s all right, Bill,” said Scully. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

"Bill, you pompous ass, would you sit down?" Charlie said, chuckling. "You'd think you were addressing a room full of diplomatic officials."

Jennifer sighed. "Charlie, could you not curse in front of the kids?"

Bill Jr threw an unamused expression at his younger brother and sat back down.

Mrs. Scully then shot him a pointed look. “William David, I believe you still haven’t apologized to Fox.”

He huffed and crossed his arms, turning to look at the FBI warning on the television screen. “Don’t push it, Mom.”

Maggie looked over at Mulder with concern, and he pursed his lips and shook his head at her, hopefully indicating to her not to worry about it. As he sat on the couch with Scully pressed against his side, his Christmas presents folded inside the gift box on the end table next to him, Jack still leaning over and talking to Scully's belly, Mulder wondered if this was what the holidays were going to look like from now on. Gathering in this house with Scully’s family, including a scowling and perhaps hostile Bill Jr, depending on how much liquor he consumed, parties with relatives and church people Mulder didn’t know, opening gifts under the tree, and generally just constantly surrounded by so many people it was sometimes hard to keep track of just how many were around. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

But then Mulder thought of what Christmas would be like a year from now, pictured this same scenario with the addition of the child that had yet to be born. He smiled, and again wanted to believe this was a blessing, a gift, an answered prayer for a miracle, for the family that he’d lost.


	99. "This baby will be born."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully and her baby are threatened. Krycek shows up offering some answers. Mulder insists that Scully go into hiding to have her baby, and they call on Agent Reyes to help. Mulder and Scully's child is born. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog and premise of "Essence" and "Existence" don't belong to me, I didn't write them. They were written by Chris Carter, and they belong to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angels & Airwaves - "Star of Bethlehem" & "True Love"
> 
> She's scared, she's a star, burning across the nighttime sky
> 
> The snow has come down on top of everything  
> The town is alive and well without you  
> She's scared  
> The lights they peer out of the leafless trees  
> And you won't be alone, I am beside you
> 
> True love  
> The stars in the sky illuminate below  
> The light is the sign that love will guide you home  
> The stars in the sky illuminate below  
> If the world were to die, the light would guide you
> 
> Tears, spilling out, across a dead end street  
> Your house is a lonely box that holds you  
> The star, bright and loud, is in dire need  
> Of the fear, it is an empty fear inside you
> 
> True love  
> The stars in the sky illuminate below  
> The light is the sign that love will guide you home  
> The stars in the sky illuminate below  
> If the world were to die, the light would guide you
> 
> True love  
> The stars in the sky illuminate below  
> The light is the sign that love will guide you home  
> The stars in the sky illuminate below  
> If the world were to die, the light would guide you
> 
> True love  
> The stars in the sky illuminate below  
> The light is the sign that love will guide you home  
> True love  
> The stars in the sky illuminate below  
> If the world were to die, the light would guide you
> 
> She's a star

On Friday morning, December 29th, Scully was lying peacefully on her side with Mulder pressed up behind her, her bare legs tangled with the sheets and laid trapped underneath one of his. She slowly blinked herself awake, wondering what it was that had woken her up. It wasn’t her bladder, and it wasn’t the baby, who was most likely still sleeping underneath the large, warm hand that palmed her belly. Mulder was still asleep, and hadn’t moved. She closed her eyes again, hoping she’d be able to fall back asleep.

“Dana? Are you here, Dana?”

Scully’s eyes flew open. God, what the hell was her mother doing there? She hurriedly started patting Mulder’s arm, trying to get him to wake up or at least move back so she could get up. Instead, he took her insistence to mean she wanted him closer, and he pressed up against her tighter, his leg firmly locking hers beneath him, his hand moving from her belly to caress her breasts.

“Mulder!” she whispered, and reached behind her to pinch his ass.

He jumped, his eyes flying open as he suddenly sat up in bed. “Fuck! What was that?”

She chuckled. “Sorry. I just needed you to get off me, and quickly.”

“Dana?” The voice was now closer, probably out in the hallway.

“Scully, is that your mom?” asked Mulder, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, before yawing.

She sighed, and started to move off the bed. “Yes. I have no idea why she’s here.”

After pulling on her blue cloth bathrobe, Scully walked out of her bedroom to see her mother had brought Lizzy Gill back to her apartment. She hadn’t given her mother an answer about the whole caregiver and baby nurse idea.

“Mom? What’s going on?” she asked as she approached them in the kitchen.

“Oh, hi honey!” said Maggie. “I thought it would be a good idea for Lizzy to help you out around here this weekend. Just so you can see how things go.”

Scully sighed. She wanted to reprimand her mother for putting her on the spot and making this decision without her consent, but she didn’t want to say so with this Lizzy Gill standing right there. It only made her feel awkward.

“Dana, I insist,” Maggie said firmly.

“Um… yeah, then I guess we can see how things go over the weekend,” replied Scully.

Maggie and Lizzy smiled, and Scully walked over to fill her tea kettle with water.

“Well, I should get going,” Maggie said. “I’ll talk to you later, Dana.”

Scully made a noncommittal noise as she placed the kettle on the stove to boil. After the front door opened and closed, her mother departing, she turned around to face Lizzy Gill still standing in her kitchen.

“I’m sure you have a list a mile long of things you need to get done before the baby comes,” said Lizzy. “That’s what I’m here for. Just to help you out for a little while.”

She nodded, and thought of the dry cleaning that needed to be dropped off, the grocery list, the mountain of laundry that had piled up since Christmas. Maybe getting some help wasn’t such a bad idea.

On Saturday morning, Mulder sat on the living room couch watching the morning news while Scully got ready for her day of relaxation at The Fountain Day Spa. As he listened to her walk into the kitchen and grab her car keys off the table, an item came on the local news that made his stomach knot in anxiety. Zeus Genetics in Germantown, Maryland had been torched the night before. Dr. Parenti had been tied to the place. Was the fire caused to hide something?

“Okay, well I’m off to use my Christmas gift,” Scully announced as she walked to the front door.

Mulder smiled and stood up from the couch, walking over to her. She lifted her arm around his neck and he bent forward, pressing his lips to hers as his arms went around her, kissing her softly. Scully then broke the kiss, pulling back to look up at him.

“What are you gonna do today?” she asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he replied, shrugging. “I might go shoot some hoops at the Y. Maybe go see the Gunmen. Or I might just hang around here and do nothing. Do you think _Jerry Springer_ is on Saturdays?”

Scully rolled her eyes, snorting, and then stepped away, before Mulder helped her slip on her coat. After she walked out, he hurriedly walked into the bedroom to change out of his pajama bottoms. Twenty minutes later, he was hailing a taxicab to Falls Church, Virginia. After arriving in front of Agent Doggett’s house, Mulder paid the driver and then walked up to the front door and knocked. Just a few seconds later, it opened.

“The last person I'd expect to see knocking on my door on a Saturday morning,” said Doggett. “Agent Mulder.”

“You can drop the ‘Agent,’ Agent Doggett. It's just plain old Fox Mulder now.”

Doggett felt a little uncomfortable, still feeling kind of bad the guy got fired and no longer had the X-Files. “Right. You want to come in, Fox? I was just watching a race.”

Mulder nodded, stepping across the threshold. “That's what I was doing. Slightly different race, though.”

Once inside Doggett’s living room, Mulder picked up the TV remote and turned the channel to a news report. The footage being shown was of a burning building from the night before.

“…exclusive footage of a medical research clinic in Germantown, Maryland, which burned down last night in what firefighters characterize as an accelerated blaze,” spoke the newscaster. “Accelerated because of the white-hot intensity of the fire, which officials are now calling a definite case of arson.”

“Zeus Genetics,” Mulder said. “That ring a bell?”

He nodded. “Yeah. That's where Scully believed they were doing tests on women… putting alien babies in them, or something like that, against their will. Wasn't ever completely explained.”

“Looks like somebody's attempt to make sure it never will be,” said Mulder.

Doggett looked back at the television screen. “I'd say that's more than an attempt. Looks like there's going to be nothing left.”

Mulder looked at him, hoping Agent Doggett would take this seriously. “I think that's the idea… to cover up the kind of research that was going on there. That's why I came to talk to you.”

“What do you want from me?” Doggett couldn’t help but feel immediately suspicious, especially after the fiasco that was the Galpex Oil case.

“How about a ride?” replied Mulder.

Several minutes later, they were in Doggett’s 1995 Ford F150 truck, heading down to Quantico’s Evidence Analysis Center. On the way, Doggett had called in some agents he’d worked with on previous task forces to assist him with the recovery of anything worth noting from the remnants of the Zeus Genetics fire, including Agent Gene Crane who was none too happy about being called in on a Saturday.

After checking in at Quantico, Mulder convinced Agent Doggett to drive him up to College Park, Maryland to pay Dr. Parenti a visit. They arrived at the Parenti Medical Group building at 11:47 am, where Mulder proceeded to pick the lock to the outer reception area.

“Knock, knock,” he said, opening the door.

“Right. We get caught in here what are you going to say then?” asked Doggett.

Mulder smiled and handed the lock pick kit back to him. “I'll just say I'm with you, Agent Doggett. It's Saturday anyway, right? We're just having a look around.”

As they entered the office, they quickly split up to look around. Doggett then found himself standing in a room with dead fetuses in jars. “Hey, Mulder,” he called out.

Having heard Agent Doggett, Mulder left the exam room he was in and walked out into the hall to find him, but Dr. Parenti opened another door and stopped him.

“Who are you?” asked the doctor.

“Me?” replied Mulder. He wondered if Dr. Parenti truly didn’t recognize him, or if he was just putting on a front.

The doctor was clearly very agitated. “Yes, you, sir. What do you think you're doing in this office?”

“I'm with an FBI agent who would like to ask you the exact same question. Dr. Parenti, _isn't it_?” Mulder pointedly asked. He then noticed a woman in the room behind the doctor. She was on a gynecological examination table, her feet in the stirrups. She sat up a little, concerned at the noise in the hallway.

Dr. Parenti quickly closed the door to shield her from Mulder's inquisitive view. “I'm in the middle of a very delicate medical procedure. Whatever you want, you don't just come barging in here. I don't care who you are.”

Doggett then called to them from the open doorway of the room with the dead fetuses in jars. "This medical procedure... it have anything to do with this?”

Dr. Parenti went into the room, suddenly very nervous. “Please…”

“Why don't you tell us what we're looking at here, Dr. Parenti?” asked Doggett.

“You people have no right to be here,” the doctor said. “I want you to leave.”

Mulder looked around, horrified, his guts churning with anxiety. “What is this? Some kind of showroom?”

Dr. Parenti huffed. “Do you know what I've been through in the past 24 hours? A close friend and colleague is missing. Much of my life's work has been destroyed.”

“How about you explain what you are doing?” said Doggett. “What these things are.”

“They are what we are all working so hard to prevent,” the doctor replied. “Children with non-survivable birth defects.”

Mulder looked at him, wondering if Scully’s pregnancy really had been the result of some sick experiment by Dr. Parenti. “Does that work include experimentation with alien embryos? Work that you would destroy to cover up such allegations?”

“Where do you get these ideas?” Dr. Parenti asked.

“From a friend of mine,” replied Mulder. “A former patient of yours. Dana Scully.”

Dr. Parenti sighed. “If I'm such a Dr. Frankenstein how is it that Ms. Scully is carrying a perfectly healthy child? In her own medical opinion.”

Mulder stared at him. “Is she?”

The doctor didn’t reply, and simply stared back at Mulder.

“I'd say this man's suitably pissed off,” said Doggett. “Why don't we let him get back to work. Let's go, Mulder.”

“Thank you,” Dr. Parenti said.

Mulder still stared at the doctor, anger, fear, and anxiety flooding the pit of his stomach, but then he allowed Doggett to lead him out of the office.

*****

On Saturday night, after some unidentifiable biological material fused with laboratory grade silica was found at the FBI’s Evidence Analysis Center at Quantico, Doggett called Mulder in to check it out. They then returned to Dr. Parenti’s office to pay him another visit, but they’d gotten there too late and had a run-in with Billy Miles.

At 10:30 pm, Mulder and Doggett stepped inside Scully’s apartment, and she hurriedly walked out of the kitchen towards them.

“Oh, my God, Mulder,” she exclaimed, her eyes wide. “What happened to you?”

“I got into, uh, an altercation,” he replied, not making eye contact and walking past her into the kitchen.

Scully rounded on Doggett. “What’s going on? What were you two doing?”

Doggett sighed. “We were looking into the FBI’s arson case involving Zeus Genetics in Maryland, where one Dr. Lev, now deceased, and one Dr. Parenti, also now deceased, had worked.”

As Mulder sat down at the dining table, Doggett entered the kitchen and leaned back against the counter as Scully went into the bathroom to get her first aid kit. She then worked at closing the gash on Mulder’s temple with some small suture tape.

“Hold still, Mulder. This should just about do it.” She then applied the last suture to his wound.

He winced in pain and swatted her hand away. “Ahh! _Scully_.”

“Sorry,” she said.

He smiled up at her. “I see why you gave up a career in medicine for the FBI, Scully.”

“Oh, Mulder,” she sighed lovingly under her breath.

“You've got manos de piedra,” he concluded, making sure his voice sounded as bitter as possible.

Scully playfully swatted his nose with a hydrogen peroxide-soaked cotton ball, and he laughed. She began gently wiping the gash with the cotton ball, and he flinched as the alcohol stung his wound.

“Sorry,” she breathed.

“Imagine if he'd really connected,” Mulder said.

They still hadn’t told her exactly what happened. “Who?” asked Scully.

“Billy Miles,” he answered.

She gave him an incredulous look. “Billy Miles? He did this?” Scully then picked up a clean dish towel and crossed over to the freezer to get some ice.

Mulder nodded. “Ask Agent Doggett. He saw him.”

“If you ask me, the kid was whacked out on something,” Doggett said. “Whatever it was, he's feeling no pain.”

“Ask me, the kid isn't a kid,” Mulder stated cryptically.

Doggett shot him a sarcastic look. “Oh, don't tell me he's an alien.”

Scully pursed her lips as she handed Mulder a small baggie of ice and the dish towel. He took the plastic bag of ice, but ignored the towel. She sighed at his stubbornness and tossed it on the table, watching him wince as he touched the cold bag directly to his wound.

“He is a _type_ of alien. A human replacement. One who looks human. Look at his strength. The way he took those slugs.”

“I've seen plenty of guys whacked out on chemicals, keep on coming,” retorted Doggett.

Mulder was getting impatient. “Well, then, you're ignoring who Billy Miles is. You, of all people, Agent Doggett, who's supposedly running the X-Files.”

“You're ignoring the fact that he bled red blood,” said Doggett. “Now, every single X-File I read, and I read them all, Mulder, what you call ‘aliens’ bleed green, right?”

Giving up on the ice and setting it down, Mulder stood up and walked over to Scully's cabinet, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. “Well, Billy Miles is a whole new deal. He's an alien abductee who was returned after hideous procedures were performed on him. And who miraculously returns to so-called perfect health when his body completely sheds its skin.”

Scully lowered herself into a chair at the table, feeling tired, unsure of where this conversation was even going to lead and just how late into the night were Mulder and Doggett going to argue about this.

“Same thing happened to you,” quipped Doggett.

“Same thing would've happened to me if I'd been left alone,” he replied, glancing at his partner. “If Scully hadn't treated me.”

She didn’t really understand what was going on. “What I want to know is what Billy Miles was doing at that medical office.”

Mulder looked at her. “Same as when he torched Zeus Genetics and destroyed their experiments with alien biology and the doctors performing them.”

She stared at him, giving him an arched eyebrow. He’d told her nothing about this earlier. “And what were _you_ doing there… Mulder?”

“Looking for answers,” he replied quietly.

“To what?” she demanded, her stomach going into knots.

Mulder gazed at her. “One of those doctors was your doctor.”

She averted her eyes from him. She didn’t want to get into this. “Mulder…”

“Listen, Scully, I'm sorry, but I just need to know that this baby of yours is going to be all right.”

“My baby is fine, Mulder. I've had it checked over and over again with my new doctor, who I trust implicitly.”

Doggett suddenly felt completely forgotten as he watched them stare determinedly at each other, as if some intense, unspoken conversation was also happening between them at the same time.

The door to the apartment suddenly opened and Lizzy Gill entered carrying some dry cleaning. She looked surprised to see Mulder and Doggett standing in the kitchen.

“Oh, I'm sorry, Dana. I didn't…”

“Come on in, Lizzy. It's all right. We just need some space to talk.”

Lizzy smiled. “It's okay. I've got plenty to do. Excuse me.” She then disappeared into the living room, heading towards the hallway.

Mulder wondered why the hell this lady was at the apartment so late at night. Doggett looked questioningly at Scully.

“It's okay,” Scully reassured them. “She's just helping me out here at my mother's insistence.”

Looking at her intently, Mulder stepped closer to Scully, speaking gently and honestly. “That's… that's all I'm trying to do. Just make sure nothing happens to you; that this baby you're carrying is born without any surprises.” Despite the assurances of her doctors, the ultrasound pictures and tests, Mulder couldn’t get the image of that awful room in Dr. Parenti’s office out of his mind. What if he really had done something to her? Was she in even more serious danger than he’d wanted to guess? Was the baby truly all right?

Scully looked from Doggett to Mulder, and then sighed. She felt confident that there was nothing wrong with her pregnancy, that her son was healthy. But she was starting to grow nervous at the implications of Dr. Parenti’s involvement with those experiments, with Duffy Haskell and those other pregnant women who'd died in childbirth, implications she’d tried very hard not to think about for months.

*****

Just before 5:00 pm on Sunday, December 31st, Mulder was sitting on the couch with Scully watching television. His arm was draped over her shoulders, his fingers absentmindedly brushing up and down her arm. His cell phone then rang, and he reached down to pick it up off the coffee table.

“Hello?”

“Mulder, it’s Skinner.”

“Oh, hello, Walter.”

Scully turned to look at Mulder. He met her gaze and shrugged.

“Listen, I need you to meet me downtown,” Skinner said. “There’s been a murder.”

Mulder paused, not wanting to say something out loud that would needlessly make Scully worry. “Okay. Where?”

“A warehouse on 15th Street NW,” replied Skinner. “Between L and M. You won’t miss it.”

“I’ll be there,” said Mulder, before hanging up.

He stood up from the couch, and started walking towards the kitchen.

“What did he want?” asked Scully.

Mulder grabbed his wallet off the side table against the wall, and then walked towards the coat rack. “Wants me to meet him downtown. I guess I’ll find out when I get there.” He then slipped on his jacket, and walked out the door.

Scully sighed, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

Twenty minutes later, a taxi dropped Mulder off at the designated warehouse and he walked towards the open doorway.

“You seem to be missing the point,” Skinner said to Agent Doggett.

“And what point would that be?” Mulder asked, and then they turned to look at him. “You fellas are starting the New Year’s Eve party without me?”

Skinner glanced at a silent Doggett, making sure he knew to let him talk to Mulder alone, and then walked over to the doorway.

“What?” Mulder asked.

“Talk to you a minute?” Skinner said.

Mulder followed him outside. “You said there'd been a murder.”

“Yeah, we'll get there,” replied Skinner. “Some business we need to clear up. Personal business. About Scully's baby, about who the father is.”

He allowed a hint of a smile to turn the corners of his mouth, knowing this was apparently the million dollar question. “Ahh… Yeah, I hear there's a pool running down at the FBI, placing bets.”

On Saturday, Scully had ran into Holly Arkos, who worked in the FBI’s Computer Records Office, who had heatedly told her all about the office pool going at Headquarters. Scully had been mildly annoyed when retelling this to Mulder later, griping about the boys’ club. Mulder hadn’t exactly known what to think when told that people at the FBI actually believed there could be more than one possible option with regards to the father of the baby. He'd grumbled and rolled his eyes when Scully told him that people had really put money down on AD Skinner and Agent Doggett.

“I've had my suspicions,” Skinner said. “That is, until I found out that you had questions. Questions about Scully's pregnancy itself.”

Mulder wondered what exactly Doggett had said to Skinner. “You want to know who the father is, that's Scully's business. But if you're asking me how a woman who was diagnosed as barren and unable to conceive is about to give birth in a couple days, that's an answer I can't honestly give.”

Skinner didn’t think that was an acceptable response. “Well, I need answers. In light of what we found in there and in light of Scully's due date, I need good, hard answers. Fast.”

He pulled out his cell phone, and Mulder looked at it, feeling uncomfortable. He didn’t want Skinner to upset Scully, or make her afraid. He didn’t want Skinner to call her up and barrage her with personal questions.

“Sir, just... Let me.” Mulder took Skinner’s cell phone and dialed Scully’s home number.

After several rings, Scully finally answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, Scully, it's me.” He noticed she sounded a little breathless. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. I just ran from the shower.”

He sighed. “Listen, I've got Skinner with me. We need to see you. It's not something that can really wait.”

Scully paused. “What?”

“It's about your pregnancy,” Mulder said. “Skinner's got some questions based on some new information.”

“What…? Mulder, what are you talking about?”

He glanced at Skinner. “Evidence of interference by someone.” The line then went dead. She'd hung up on him. What the…? Mulder sighed.

“Well, what did she say?” Skinner asked.

Mulder just shook his head, and sighed again. “Let’s just go talk to her, I guess.”

Skinner nodded. He then walked back inside the warehouse, and less than a minute later returned with Agent Doggett. As they walked towards Skinner’s car and Doggett’s truck in the parking lot, Mulder’s cell phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Mulder!”

“Scully?”

“Come back home! Now!”

She was clearly upset. She even sounded afraid. Panic filled his gut, adrenaline started coursing through his veins. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“Mulder, just get here!”

The line went dead again, and Mulder turned on Skinner and Doggett behind him. “We gotta get to Scully’s. Fast.”

The three men then quickly drove to Georgetown, parking in front of Scully’s apartment building. Mulder ran inside, Skinner and Doggett chasing after him, up the stairs to the third floor. He ran down the hallway to Scully’s door, and it opened almost as soon as he’d stood in front of it.

She stood there in her blue bathrobe, wet hair, a terrified and anxious look on her face, breathing heavily. She was also holding her gun in her hand.

“Mulder!”

He immediately stepped across the threshold, his hands going to her shoulders as they moved inside. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

Scully turned to look into the kitchen, and Mulder followed her gaze to see Lizzy Gill sitting at the dining table, hands entwined nervously in her lap. It was at this point when Skinner and Doggett came through the door.

“You talk to this woman and find out what’s going on,” Mulder said to them. He then ushered a visibly shaking Scully back to her bedroom, helping her sit down on the bed as he took her weapon from her and placed it on the bedside table. He then crouched down and rubbed her shoulders and arms, as her breathing became steadier.

“Tell me what happened,” he said in a calm voice.

She took a deep, steadying breath. “Pills. She was… putting these pills in one of my bottles. They’re still in the bathroom.”

Mulder stood up and walked into the bathroom, seeing the bottle, cap, and loose pills all over the sink. He gathered them up and returned to the bedroom.

“Okay, I’m gonna take you to the hospital to get checked out,” he said. “Hopefully everything is fine.”

Scully nodded, and stood up from the bed. He paced anxiously back and forth in the bedroom, between the bedroom and bathroom, while she got dressed. They then walked out to the kitchen, where Skinner told them that Doggett was going to take Lizzy Gill down to Headquarters to talk to her further. Scully looked away, not wanting to look at the woman again, and Mulder nodded. They then all left the apartment, Mulder and Scully driving to George Washington University Hospital.

They arrived at the hospital just 10 minutes later, shortly after 6:00 pm. After being notified that Dr. Bajaj had been called, the attending OB/GYN, Dr. Speake, met with Scully in one of the exam rooms, where blood work was taken and an ultrasound was done. The pills were also taken to be analyzed, and Scully was told to try to relax and wait for the results.

Scully sat on the examination table, gripping the edge on either side of her with both hands, her face carefully emotionless. Mulder stood stiffly next to her, his posture tense as if ready to jump into action at any moment. A flurry of different emotions could be seen in his eyes.

Skinner sighed. “Dana…”

“You think my baby isn’t normal,” she stated. Mulder turned to look at her, and she gazed at him, before turning back to look at Skinner.

“Dana, there were records at that warehouse,” Skinner said. “In that lab where Duffy Haskell’s body was found.”

Mulder moved closer to Scully, sitting against the table next to her.

“Records of what?” she asked. Her voice was steady, but her gaze was fierce, and Skinner had to look down at his shoes for a moment.

“They were monitoring your pregnancy,” he replied. “Not just yours. Other women, too. Dr. Parenti, along with this Dr. Lev, and Duffy Haskell. And, apparently, this Lizzy Gill woman was also working with them.”

Scully felt her stomach knot even more, and she began to feel fear overwhelm her. But then Mulder’s arm slid behind her back until his hand gripped her right arm, holding her to him. She then looking confidently up at Skinner. “They did not create this baby. My baby was not created in some lab.”

Mulder had called Mrs. Scully after they’d arrived at the hospital, and at 6:55 pm she was walking up the corridor towards him where he had just stepped outside Scully’s room while she got dressed.

“Fox, what happened?” Maggie asked, her eyes wide with worry.

“I’m not really sure, Mrs. Scully,” he replied. “It seems as though this woman hired to help out Scully, was, uh, giving her pills. Don’t know what they are yet.”

Maggie closed her eyes, her hand moving to cover her mouth. “Oh, my God. What was she…? Why…?”

He shook his head. “We don’t know. Hopefully we’ll have some answers soon.”

A few minutes later, Dr. Speake, a blonde woman in her 40’s, approached them and entered Scully’s hospital room with a smile. “I want you to know you can stop worrying, Dana. Your baby is fine.”

Mulder and Maggie walked to stand in front of the open door of the room and listened. Maggie had her arms crossed in front of her, then her hands pressed to her mouth.

“Everything is absolutely as it should be, 100%,” Dr. Speake continued. “The pills you were worried about were just vitamin supplements. Nothing harmful. Nothing you'd be afraid to give any expectant mother. I know it doesn't make sense but it's a relief, I'm sure. Dr. Bajaj should be here shortly, and you’ll be able to talk with her before you leave if you’d like.”

The doctor then left the room as Maggie entered it, leaving Mulder to wait in the open doorway.

“I am so sorry, Dana. I brought Lizzy into your home. This is all my fault.”

Scully wasn’t looking at her mother, trying to control her emotions.

Maggie then stepped closer, and hugged her daughter. “I'm so sorry. You know I'd never let anything happen to you. I'd never knowingly let anybody hurt you.”

“I know, Mom.”

Maggie pulled out of the hug, wishing her daughter would say more. “I'm so worried about you. You keep everything so bottled up.”

Scully gave a slight nod and looked at her mother, then over at Mulder who was watching her. They gazed at each other, and Scully could see that he was worried too. She saw panic and anxiety in his face. They were then interrupted by Skinner coming down the hallway.

“Mulder! How is she?”

He glanced in the room, where Scully’s mom was helping her put on her coat. “She's fine, according to the doctor. Apparently, it was a false alarm. Whatever this woman was up to…”

“Well, we won't be able to hold the woman based on those findings,” Skinner said. “But Agent Doggett's been talking to her. I think you ought to hear what she has to say.”

Mulder glanced into the room again, not wanting his partner to be left out of his sight, but then reluctantly followed Skinner. Scully watched them leave, and wondered what was going on.

*****

On Sunday evening, after her mother took her home from the hospital, Scully finally lowered herself onto her couch, taking a deep breath and trying to relax. Her mom had run out to the store to get some things that Scully needed around the apartment, and told her that once she got back she’d stay with her until Mulder came home.

Scully couldn’t stop thinking about what this woman Lizzy had been trying to do to her. She’d switched her prenatal vitamins for different ones. Why? Was there something wrong with the baby? But that couldn’t be. The baby was fine. He was healthy. There weren’t any problems. Why was this happening? And what was Mulder doing? Could he have found any answers about what was going on?

She wrapped her hands over her belly, feeling her baby kick in response, and closed her eyes and fervently prayed that he would be okay, that everything would be all right. She then sat back on the couch with a book, trying to get comfortable and push away her disquieting thoughts, when she heard a knock on the door.

She quickly sat up straight, feeling nervous. “Yes?”

“It’s me,” Mulder called out through the door. “I left my keys here.”

She sighed in relief and moved off the couch, striding over towards the door as quickly as her pregnant body allowed her to. Mulder then entered the apartment as she opened the door, full of nervous energy.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

“You here alone?” he responded.

Scully stared at him. “Yes. My mom just went to the…”

Mulder put his hand on her shoulder and began steering her toward the bedroom. “Whatever you can't get elsewhere, just throw it together.”

“Mulder, to go where?” But he didn’t answer, just kept moving her towards her room. She quickly stopped him. “No, just stop! Can you tell me what's wrong? Is it something to do with my baby?”

“No, your, your baby is fine. It's you who's in danger now, Scully.” What that woman Lizzy Gill had told them at the FBI had sent him into a panic. He wasn’t sure why. But her talk of ‘perfect human child with no human frailties’ filled him with fear. Why were they so interested in the pregnancy? The baby clearly hadn’t been one of Dr. Parenti’s lab creations, the woman even said so. Were they planning on taking the baby? For their own evil ends? He didn’t know. He was just scared, filled with a panicked fear like he’d never felt before.

“From who? Mulder, from what?”

“I don't know, I'm not sure,” he replied. “I'm not sure about anything. I just know I got to get you out of here.”

Scully felt like she was fighting for her sanity, clinging to the last vestiges of logic and reason. There was nothing wrong with her baby. If there was, it would have shown up any number of the countless tests she’d had done. “Look, Mulder, look, I can't take this! I can't live like this… as, as the object of some unending X-File!”

Mulder looked down at her. “This isn't about the X-Files, Scully. It is only about you.” He saw her eyes widen, and tried to speak reassuringly, but firm. “Now, you are going to have this baby. And I'm going to do everything I can to protect it. I just can't do that here.”

They looked at each other, and she took a moment to consider his words. It was obvious to her that he was afraid, afraid for her and the baby. She’d never really seen him like this before. Scully then turned and walked into her bedroom. Mulder followed her, and watched her change out of her pajamas and back into some clothes. He wanted to comfort her, to ease her fears. He knew she was just as scared as he was, just as worried that something, someone, could harm the baby, or take it away from them. Even though she hid those feelings well, he knew she felt them.

She paused once she’d retrieved her hospital bag from the closet, all packed and ready to go for the moment she went into labor. Her due date was technically in six days, but the baby could come sooner. Or hell, it could come a week or two later. He didn’t know. Mulder hated uncertainties. He watched her stare down into the bag, at the things she’d picked out to bring with her.

“It’s going to be all right, Scully. I’ll never let anything happen to you. Or the baby.”

“I know, Mulder,” she said quietly, still staring down into her bag and not looking at him.

He felt tears prick his eyes. What he wouldn’t do to make all her fear go away. What he wouldn’t give for her to be happy, for her to enjoy the experience of bringing life into the world without some cloud of doom hanging over their heads.

*****

It was 9:00 pm on Sunday, and Mulder and Scully were in Skinner’s office at FBI Headquarters. Skinner was there, too. And so was Agent Doggett. But so was Alex Krycek, who’d reappeared outside Scully’s apartment building in the nick of time, saving them from Billy Miles.

“You should all know exactly what it is you're up against… what Agent Scully's up against,” Krycek said.

“You realize you're all listening to someone who tried to kill me,” said Doggett, trying to make the rest of them see reason. “He left you for dead.”

Mulder sighed. He then turned to look at Krycek. “Tell us about Billy Miles.”

Krycek shifted in his chair. “There are others just like him. You can call them what you want. They're human replacements, alien replicants. They're virtually unstoppable.”

“What do they want?” Skinner asked.

“They want to knock out any and all attempts by us to survive the final days,” answered Krycek. “When they come back to retake the planet.”

Doggett couldn’t believe this hogwash. “So, what, they're wandering around among us… looking for trouble? Some kind of alien lawmen?”

“You saw what they did to those doctors,” Krycek said. “They're fearless. And they answer to no one except their own biological imperative to survive.”

Mulder looked over at Scully. She had a hand over her eyes, her head bent, clearly wanting to be anywhere but in this office, doing anything but having to deal with this current scenario. He paused, thinking about what Lizzy Gill had said about her having the perfect human child. “What about Scully? What do they want with her?”

She removed the hand from her face. “They want my baby.” She felt exhausted, and looked over at Krycek. “Why?” she demanded.

“They didn't even know about it,” Krycek replied. “I don't know exactly how they could have found out just how… how important it is, how special.”

“My baby is normal,” Scully said firmly, glaring at him.

Krycek leaned forwards and stared back at her. “Your baby was a miracle. Born of a barren mother's barren womb.”

Mulder could see the pieces in front of him, like a puzzle. If only he could put them together. “Are you saying that they're afraid of it?”

“They're afraid of its implications,” replied Krycek. “That it could somehow be greater than them. Something… more human than human.”

“I don't believe this,” Scully whispered, covering her eyes with her hand again.

Skinner glared at him. “You wanted to destroy her child.”

“I wanted to destroy the truth before they learned the truth,” Krycek said.

“That there's a God,” Mulder said, realization starting to come over him, the puzzle pieces becoming clearer. “A higher power.”

Doggett rolled his eyes. He felt like everyone was suddenly taking crazy pills. “I don't believe this crap. I don't believe you're all sitting around here listening to it, even when you know this man's a liar. Worse than that.”

Krycek shrugged. “You can believe what you want, but I don't think you can take the chance that I'm wrong.”

Silence filled the office. Mulder stared at Scully, believing Krycek to be right. Doggett only rolled his eyes again.

“There is no hospital that's safe enough,” Krycek said menacingly. “She may never even make it out of this building.”

“Why don't you just shut up?” Doggett spit at him, not wanting this son of a bitch to do or say anything to scare Agent Scully. He’d already said more than enough.

Mulder was still staring at Scully. He knew what needed to be done. “Agent Doggett. Get on the phone. If we're going to get Scully out of here we're going to need some help.” He followed Doggett over to Skinner’s desk, and after Doggett picked up the receiver he looked at Mulder.

“We need someone we can trust,” he said in a low voice. “Someone who might understand, at least a little bit, what we’re up against. Agent Reyes.”

“Monica?” Doggett said, his eyes going wide with surprise.

“Call her,” Mulder replied. “We need to get Scully out of here. Out of DC. She can’t have her baby here. She needs to go somewhere safe. She’ll need someone to go with her. You’re gonna pick a place, somewhere far from here. And you’re not gonna tell anyone where Scully’s going. Including me.”

Doggett looked at him in confusion. “Well, why wouldn’t you go with Agent Scully?”

Mulder shook his head sadly. “She wouldn’t be safe with me. They’ll expect her to be with me. She should get as far away from me as possible right now.”

He picked up the telephone receiver, sighing, and then Doggett called Monica’s cell phone number.

“John! Hi!” she greeted excitedly, picking up after the first ring.

“Uh, hi Monica,” he said.

“I was just about to call you,” she said, sounding really pleased. “Funny how that happens sometimes, huh? But, um, I know this is super last minute and everything, but I'm actually just about to board a flight to Washington Dulles airport and I was gonna see if you had any plans for New Year’s tonight. And, um, like I said, I know it’s last minute…”

Doggett sighed. “Um, Monica, we’re having a bit of a situation here. But… well, I guess it worked out perfectly that you’re already on your way.”

She immediately sensed there was something wrong, that maybe there had been another reason why she'd suddenly felt that spontaneous whim to go to DC. “What’s the situation, John?”

“Agent Scully’s life is threatened,” he replied. “We have to get her out of the city.”

“What do you need me to do?” Monica asked without hesitation.

Doggett looked at Mulder, and nodded. Mulder then walked away from the desk, and over towards Scully, crouching down in front of her. He ran his hands over the tops of her thighs, and she opened her eyes, removing the hand from her face, to look at him. Krycek stared at them.

“You should probably call your mother,” Mulder said, keeping his voice low. “Tell her you’re going out of town for a few days.”

Scully sighed. “Where am I going?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. But Agent Reyes is going to take you somewhere safe. I’m sorry, Scully. But you can’t have your baby here. It’s too dangerous.”

“Agent Reyes?” she asked, confused. “What do you mean? Aren’t you going to be there?”

“It’s too dangerous,” he replied. “It’d be like having a bullseye on your back if you went anywhere with me.”

She looked at him sadly. “What are you trying to say? You’re too high-profile?”

Mulder smirked at her. “What can I say? The aliens know me pretty well. You have a better chance at getting out of here safely if I stick around. Maybe they’ll assume you’re still around here, too. If I can prevent you from being followed, then I’m going to do everything I can think of to make sure that happens.”

“Well, then what are you going to do?” Scully asked.

“I need to find out what exactly is going on,” he said. “So that I can stop it for good. There must be a way to stop Billy Miles.”

She sighed. “Mulder, Krycek hit Billy Miles full force with his car and it just barely slowed him down. How are you going to stop him without getting hurt yourself? Or killed? Do you even have a plan?”

He pursed his lips, tilting his head from side to side. “Uh… yes and no.”

“What the hell does that mean?” she asked.

“Well, while you’re getting out of here, I’m thinking we can lure Billy Miles here to headquarters and then… trap him, somehow,” Mulder replied.

Scully gave him a sarcastic stare. “Why don’t you lure him up to the roof and then push him off when he’s not looking?”

He chuckled, and then looked intensely at her. “Hey… that might not be a bad idea, Scully.”

“Mulder, I was kidding.”

“He’d probably survive the fall, though,” he said, thinking. “Anyways, I don’t want you to worry about what we’re doing here. You need to focus on having this baby in a safe place, away from any dangers.”

She sighed. “I want you to be there with me.”

He reached and grabbed her hands. “I know. I wanted to be there. I mean, there’s four weeks of Lamaze classes that now I’ll never get to use. I watched all those births, just to end up missing the most important one.”

Scully snorted, shaking her head, fighting a grin.

“I can’t protect you and come with you at the same time,” Mulder said seriously. “I have to find out the truth.”

“I knew it,” she replied. “Aliens, and black oil, and government conspiracies. The Truth with a capital ‘T.’ You’ll never stop, Mulder. This will never end.”

He shook his head. “That’s not the truth I’m talking about. This is only about you and the baby. Krycek was right, we have to understand what we’re up against. We are powerless without the truth. We have to know exactly what is going on, exactly why this is happening.”

She sighed, squeezing his hands, and nodded, before pulling out her cell phone to call her mother.

*****

“So where are we going?” asked Scully.

“Somewhere rural,” replied Monica. “Very rural, based on what Agent Doggett said.”

Scully sighed. “How long will it take to get there?”

Monica tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, as she merged onto I-395 South, and glanced at the clock. It was almost 2:00 am. “About 10 hours, maybe 10 and a half, depending how often we stop for bathroom breaks. Happy New Year, by the way.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “Yeah. Happy New Year.”

Agent Reyes looked over at her, giving her a sad smile. “It’s probably not as great a New Year’s as last year. I’m sure this wasn’t how you planned on spending it.”

“Last year I was attacked by a zombie on New Year’s,” said Scully. “So, you know, all things considering… this might not turn out to be worse.”

“A… a zombie? For real?”

Scully sighed. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Monica exhaled sharply, her eyes widening. “Wow.”

“Did Agent Doggett give you specific directions, or are you just winging it?” asked Scully.

“John gave me directions,” Monica replied, grinning at her. “So when was the last time you took a leak?”

She chuckled. “Back at headquarters, before we left. Would you believe Mulder insisted on going into the ladies’ room with me?”

Agent Reyes smiled. “Yes. He’s very protective of you. So how long do you figure you can last before you need to use the bathroom again?”

“Maybe an hour,” Scully replied. “But I’d like to get as far away from Washington as possible before we stop.”

“I’ll drive faster,” Monica said. “If we get pulled over, we’ll just flash our badges.”

Eventually, Scully’s exhaustion pulled her under and she fell asleep somewhere near the Virginia - North Carolina border. Six hours later, at nearly 11:00 am on Monday, January 1st, Scully woke up just as they’d passed into Georgia.

Scully soon noticed that Monica looked very jittery. “Are you all right, Agent Reyes?”

“I should ask how you're doing,” she replied. “I mean, you're the one who's going to have this baby.” Monica glanced nervously at Scully’s belly.

“That's it, isn't it? What you're really worried about?”

Monica looked over at her briefly, before going back to watching the road. “Aside from whatever danger we're in, where we're going doesn't sound like… there's all that much in the way of a… facility. You know what I mean? I've never delivered a baby.”

Scully gave her a half smile. “Well, I've never had one. That makes us both beginners.”

She smiled back nervously. “It’s just… the place sounds very… rustic. No heat. No running water. No electricity.”

“Well, that’s just… great,” Scully sighed.

“When is, um, the baby due?” asked Monica.

She looked over at her and smirked. “The 6th, technically.”

Monica’s eyes widened, and she turned to look at her in shock. “So we could be, uh, hiding out in this place… all week?”

“Well, I certainly hope not,” replied Scully. “Hopefully Mulder and Agent Doggett are able to… stop whatever the hell is happening. And then hopefully, I’ll be able to go home and have my baby in a nice, private hospital room. As planned.”

“I really hope John packed the trunk with as much first aid supplies as possible,” Monica said. “Just in case.”

Scully sighed, and looked out the window. “I highly doubt there’s an epidural in there. God, this is crazy.”

She looked over at her passenger. “What? Not having an epidural? Or this whole shebang in general?”

“I don’t even have extra clothes, or a toothbrush,” replied Scully. “I don’t have my labor bag. I’ve got the clothes on my back and my FBI badge.”

“Wow, all that?” said Monica, smirking at her. “Listen, Dana. You feel anything strange or if… things start happening, I need you to tell me right away. I won’t hesitate to pull the car over, or get some help.”

Scully nodded, and then started unbuckling her seat belt.

“Hey! What are you doing?” asked Monica.

“I have to lay on my side now,” Scully replied. “If the baby moves, I have to move. And my back is killing me right now.”

Agent Reyes glanced at the road sign up ahead. “We should be there in an hour.”

*****

Mulder found himself once again sitting in Skinner’s office with Agent Doggett, Alex Krycek, and Skinner himself. It was nearly 11:00 on Monday morning, New Year’s Day, the building was deserted, and at 4:30 am one Billy Miles had up and walked out of the District Pathology Lab.

“So why don't you explain it to us because I'm having a little bit of a hard time understanding it myself,” Skinner said. “Billy Miles was scraped out of the back of a garbage truck. I saw him go in, I saw him come out.” He disgustedly tossed the picture of Billy Miles, taken from the morgue’s security camera, into Krycek's lap.

“Well, I don't know if I can explain it in any technical sense,” Krycek replied casually, glancing at the picture. “But… that's Billy Miles, without a doubt.” He then handed the picture back to Skinner.

“You're sitting there for one reason, Krycek,” he said angrily. “Because you can explain it.”

Krycek huffed in frustration. “I told you. He's a human replacement. Some new kind of alien, created to aid in the repopulation of the planet.”

Mulder stared at him. “Which Scully is a threat to.”

“If she has that baby,” Krycek said.

“Well, I don't care who he is or what you think he's made of,” replied Doggett. “There's no way he's going to find her. No way.”

Krycek looked at him. “Well, maybe he's not but there are others out there just like him. And it's only a matter of time before they will.”

Mulder thought there was something that Krycek wasn’t telling them. He must’ve had some other agenda for being there. Was his sole purpose for showing up at Scully’s apartment, for helping them run Billy Miles off the FBI roof so that she could be protected? Her and her baby? Whose side was he on, anyways? Whatever side was currently in his own best interest, no doubt. But was there a group or organization he was working with now that the Syndicate was no more? What was he really up to?

Later that afternoon, Mulder stood with Doggett outside Skinner’s hospital room at Georgetown Memorial, where he was being treated for a concussion. No one had seen it happen, this attack on AD Skinner. But they’d guessed it was Billy Miles. Mulder wanted to know where Doggett had been when this was happening, to which he’d replied that he’d been meeting with someone who tells him stuff he wasn’t supposed to know.

“He said that Billy Miles isn't what you think he is. He's a product of a government program looking to build a super soldier. He said Agent Scully's a part of that program, too; that her pregnancy was triggered by a chip they put in her neck.”

Mulder felt his stomach bottom out. Not that goddamned chip. Not the Smoking Man and his cronies and everything else they fucking did to her. “I want to know who the hell you've been talking to!” A nearby nurse looked up at the sound of his raised voice. Irritated, he led Doggett farther down the hall and lowered his voice. “Who this trusted source of yours is who's been spinning this fantasy.”

Doggett sighed. “His name's Knowle Rohrer. He's deep inside US Intelligence. I don't know much more than that.”

“Did he ever lie to you?” Mulder asked. “Give you bad information, false leads?”

Pausing, Doggett averted his eyes.

Mulder looked at him incredulously. “Well, you have to think about it?”

“He says Scully's in danger. He wants to stop this guy. How's that so different than what we're saying?”

“You didn't tell him where she is, did you?” asked Mulder worriedly.

Doggett shook his head, and glanced towards his boss’s hospital room. “No, but I'm beginning to think that the fact that I know is going to catch up with me if AD Skinner's any indication.”

Mulder stared at him pointedly, and spoke emphatically. “You don't tell anybody where she is. That's the deal, right? Not even me.”

“What if something happens to me?” asked Doggett, just as worried.

He sighed. “This, uh, trusted source of yours told you he knows how to stop Billy Miles. Did he happen to tell you how he plans to do this?”

“No.”

“Right. Well, what do you say you and me go find out how trustworthy he really is?” said Mulder.

They then spent the next two hours in the FBI parking garage, witnessing Krycek meeting with Knowle Rohrer as well as Agent Crane, which meant they’d been in on it all along. Getting them to think they could protect Scully by sending her away, making them chase around Billy Miles as if that would help her in some way. Just as Doggett told him over the phone that he’d sent Scully to northern Georgia, to a place called Democrat Hot Springs, Mulder’s car window shattered and Krycek grabbed the phone from him.

“Get out of the car,” Krycek said in a voice that almost betrayed some sadness.

Mulder resignedly climbed out the driver's side to avoid the shattered glass of his passenger side window.

“Doesn't seem fair now. Doesn't seem right. Coming down to this.” His voice was strained, apologetic almost.

“What do you know about fair or right, Krycek? You're a coward.” Mulder’s cold fury was evident as he slowly walked around the car to face him.

His eyes narrowed, and his posture became defensive. “I could've killed you so many times, Mulder. You've got to know that. I'm the one that kept you alive.” His voice then cracked a little. “Praying you'd win somehow.”

“Then there really is no God,” Mulder bitterly replied, contempt dripping from each word.

“You think I'm bad. That I'm a killer. We wanted the same thing, brother. That's what you don't understand.”

Mulder reacted with a look of disdain. “I wanted to stop them. All you wanted was to save your own ass.”

Krycek then became passionate, desperate almost. “No. I tried to stop them. Tried to kill Scully's baby to stop them. It's too late. The tragedy's that you… you wouldn't let it go. That's why I have to do this. 'Cause you know how deep it goes. Right into the FBI.”

“You want to kill me, Alex, kill me. Like you killed my father. Just don't insult me trying to make me understand.”

His finger slowly and reluctantly tightened on the trigger, his face contorting with indecision. Mulder stood there calmly, as he and Krycek stared at each other. A gun was fired. Krycek gasped in pain and fell, dropping his gun, a bullet wound in his right arm. He looked up and saw Skinner a few yards away, gun in hand. Krycek reached down to pick up his gun and screamed in pain, falling to the ground as Skinner shot him in the right arm again, making his arm now useless. Weakly, he used his prosthetic left arm to push his gun toward Skinner.

“It's going to take more bullets than you can… ever fire to win this game,” Krycek said. “But one bullet… and I can give you a thousand lives. Shoot Mulder.”

Skinner and Mulder looked at each other. Skinner then raised his gun and fired at Krycek, who fell to the ground with a bullet hole between his eyes. Without any regret, Mulder glanced at Skinner and walked to the driver's side of the car.

“I'm going to go to the airport,” he said. “I need that location from Agent Doggett.”

Mulder arrived at the Atlanta airport at 9:00 pm on Monday, and he still hadn’t gotten the exact location of this Democrat Hot Springs place. It wasn’t even on a map. After placing a phone call to Joe Daddo of the US Marshals, they arranged a chopper to fly Mulder north to look for the town. During his entire flight to Atlanta, he’d thought of nothing but Krycek’s words. How was Scully’s baby a threat to alien colonization? But then how would killing her baby also somehow stop them? And then there was Krycek’s insinuation that Mulder needed to be put out of the picture. None of it made any fucking sense.

He could only hope that he reached Scully in time, that nothing terrible had happened to her, and that those alien replicants hadn’t found her. As Mulder boarded the chopper and then flew north, passing out of the Atlanta city limits, he saw a bright light in the northwest sky. Something told him to follow it, that the light would guide him to where he needed to go. He instructed the pilot to fly towards it.

*****

It was after 10:00 pm and Scully had been in labor for the past five hours, her water having broken hours ago, and the contractions were now coming much more frequently, only two minutes apart. She was about to give birth, but she was afraid and wished Mulder was there with her. It didn’t feel right, being so far away from him. And as the labor pains overwhelmed her, she thought of her other fears. What would she tell her son when he one day asks of his birth? What would she tell him about how he came to be? Was it simply that Mulder was the progenitor? Or was it the result of a divine hand, her prayers finally answered? How would she ever know the truth? Was it even possible to know? And if the reason she was pregnant was indeed that divine answer to her prayers, then surely she shouldn’t be afraid now? Wouldn’t God then protect her and her child? Shouldn’t she just rely on simple faith?

Agent Reyes sat with Scully, holding her hand and providing as much care and comfort as she possibly could. Did she even know what she was doing at all? Aside from watching dramatized births on television programs? Despite this, she trusted Monica. But of all things to pack in the first aid kit, why hadn’t there been any pain relievers? Scully didn’t really blame her, or Agent Doggett, or anyone else. She could only blame herself for being in this situation. And in blaming herself for everything that was going wrong, she was also able to entirely blame herself for this miracle about to happen. She refused to believe any other human, save Mulder, could possibly be responsible for this. She could only hope her baby was born just as healthy and normal as she wanted to believe he was, that this whole nightmare would then go away.

Scully’s gaze never left the door, hoping that at any minute Mulder would walk through and be there to hold her hand, ease her fears, and witness the baby’s birth. But then Monica was attacking the Game Warden, and it was all very confusing. The warden was screaming and crawling outside to the porch, while Monica followed her out with the rifle.

“What’s happening? What?” shouted Scully, as another labor pain ripped through her.

“It's okay, Dana,” said Monica as she came back inside.

She was panting for breath. “What… What…”

Monica nodded, bracing herself, trying to hide her fear. “It's going to be okay.”

Scully looked up at the door as a group of people led by Billy Miles silently entered, and her eyes widened in horror. “No!”

Turning to watch them enter, Monica grimaced sadly as Scully gasped in agony and terror. Another labor pain then hit her and she groaned. One of the last things Mulder had said to her was ‘You are going to have this baby.’ She tried to concentrate on his words, the sound of his voice, but her fear was taking over.

“This is my baby!” she shouted.

“You've got to push, Dana.” Monica knelt between her legs on the bed, concentrating all her attention and energy on the woman in front of her, trying her best to block out everything else that was happening in the room.

“Please don't let them take it!” Scully cried.

As the labor pains intensified, Monica grew nervous. She could feel Scully’s fear, and knew she was too focused on the other people in the room instead of what she was supposed to be doing. “Come on, Dana. Push!”

Scully groaned in pain. “Please don't let this happen,” she cried.

“Dana, push!”

She screamed defiantly at Billy Miles, the Game Warden, and the other alien replicants in the room. “It's mine!”

“Harder! Push, Dana!”

Scully was silent a moment, straining, whimpering.

“Keep breathing, Dana. Keep breathing. Okay. Now push! Push! Push, Dana, push!”

She did as Monica told her, crying out in pain. Then a newborn baby's cry joined hers. It was like music to Scully’s ears. She heard her son gasp for breath, heard his cries. Monica became very busy between Scully's legs, cleaning the baby and cutting the umbilical cord. Gasping both in relief and fear, Scully gripped the bed as she looked up at the others who stood watching, silent and still. The sounds of her son’s cries filled the room.

Wrapping the infant in a blanket, Monica lifted him and laid him on Scully’s chest, whose arms immediately went around to hold him to her, and he stopped crying. Scully was overwrought. Feelings of relief, elation, fear, anxiety, and exhaustion overwhelmed her. Tears streamed down her face.

Monica then finally allowed herself to look around and face these ominous strangers in the room. They stared at the baby, as if mesmerized, and then they simply turned around and walked out of the building. She had no idea what the hell was happening, but she turned back around to face Scully.

“Dana, you’re still not finished. You have to keep pushing.”

“Are they really leaving?” she cried.

Monica sighed. “I want you to stop worrying about them, and concentrate. Do you know how long this is going to take?”

Scully took a deep breath, lifting the gray t-shirt she wore up and then over her son, keeping him warm against her chest. “Anywhere from five to 20 minutes.”

“Okay, we can do this,” replied Monica. “The hardest part is over.” She tried to sound confident, while also wondering how she was going to get Scully out of there and to the closest hospital, and wondering if the danger had really passed.

*****

As the chopper approached the small town, in the middle of nowhere northern Georgia with the mysterious bright light directly overhead, where countless cars and trucks were parked all around, Mulder gave instructions to the pilot. “Down there. Get me down there.”

The helicopter landed and Mulder got out. The crowd of people were all getting back into their cars and trucks and leaving. He ran between them trying to get someone to talk to him, but they were all ignoring him.

“Hey! Scully! Scully!”

There was a roaring in Mulder’s ears that had nothing to do with the chopper nearby and the vehicles driving away.

“Where is she?! Scully! Where is she?!” he demanded of anyone he could get close to. No one said a word, instead behaving as though he wasn’t even there. The entire trip to Atlanta and then the helicopter flight northwest had all the feeling of a waking nightmare that he knew wouldn’t go away until he laid eyes on Scully and assured himself that she was okay. The flight to Atlanta seemed to take years, instead of just a couple hours. Each minute was torturous.

“SCULLY! WHERE IS SHE? TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!” It was no use. Jesus, what if something had happened to her? What if one of these… _things_... hurt her? Or took the baby? Oh, God. He felt frantic, fear held his heart in a vise grip. He then heard someone call his name, but it wasn’t the voice he’d most wanted to hear.

Mulder ran to the building where Agent Reyes was standing in the doorway, as the helicopter still hovered a few feet from the ground nearby.

“How is she?”

“She's inside,” replied Monica, clearly exhausted. “She needs to get to the hospital!”

He looked at her for a second with concern only for Scully. Neither statement by Agent Reyes answered any of the questions he had. He searched for some meaning in her face, not finding an answer there either. Mulder then entered the building, not knowing what he would find. His heart pounded, and with legs that barely seemed to hold him up anymore, he walked into the room.

At first sight, the bed looked like a crime scene. It was soaked, there was blood. But he immediately focused on Scully, lying on the bed. He exhaled the breath he’d been holding, thankful he could breathe properly again. In seconds, he’d crossed the room to her bedside. She was alive. She was conscious. She was crying. There was a baby wrapped underneath the gray t-shirt she was wearing. She looked happy, and exhausted. She looked beautiful.

“Mulder,” she cried, her voice thick with emotion.

“Scully,” he said, dropping to his knees by the bed. He reached out to stroke her forehead, brushing her hair back from her face, before moving down to gently caress her cheek. “I’ve got to get you to the hospital. I’ve got a helicopter outside.”

She nodded, and Mulder stood up. “Agent Reyes!”

“Yes?” she answered from where she’d been standing in the doorway.

“Is there a clean blanket to wrap Scully in?” he asked.

Monica nodded, and moved over to the bed, stripping the dirty sheets from underneath Scully and then handing Mulder a large, clean blanket.

“Put your arm around my neck,” he said as he leaned over the bed, wrapping the blanket around her legs.

“Why don’t you let me take the baby, Dana?” offered Monica.

But she instead held him tighter to her chest, her eyes widening in fear and maybe panic. Mulder sighed. “Come on, Scully. I’ll carry you both. I have to get the both of you out of here. Just put your arm around me.”

Mulder bent down, his arms going underneath her, as Scully wrapped one arm around his neck. He lifted her, and the baby held tight to her chest, from the bed. He carried them outside, Monica following closely behind.

“What hospital are you taking her to?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” he replied. “One in Atlanta.”

She nodded, and he turned to walk towards the helicopter several yards away, which had finally landed.

Scully looked up at him, a smile on her face. “Mulder,” she whispered, her voice choking with emotion. “We have a son.”

He nodded emphatically, his own throat constricting, tears filling his eyes. Mulder didn’t know how. He didn’t know why. He didn’t care right now. They had a son. He was theirs. He belonged to them.

“Our son,” Mulder whispered, tears now brimming over.

An intense feeling of love surged through them, and Mulder thought it probably could've knocked him over if he hadn’t been holding what was most precious to him. And as he carried Scully to the chopper, tears streamed down their faces.


	100. "The truth we both know."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder takes Scully and their son to the hospital in Atlanta. Following their hospital stay, they return home to Washington, DC.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from the episode "Existence" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plumb - "Always"
> 
> Out of nowhere  
> You came  
> From a little dust  
> And a little rain  
> And when I looked down at  
> Your face  
> It showed to me  
> The truth and grace
> 
> I will always try to keep you very safe
> 
> So open up your eyes  
> So they can look in mine  
> And see a small reflection  
> And when you close your eyes  
> I pray the thoughts inside  
> Are beautiful and true
> 
> I won't always  
> Be this strong  
> And I won't always  
> Be the one  
> To kiss the bruise  
> Or heal the scrapes  
> To wipe the tear drops  
> From your face
> 
> But I will always love you more each day
> 
> So open up your eyes  
> So they can look in mine  
> And see a small reflection  
> And when you close your eyes  
> I pray the thoughts inside  
> Are beautiful and true
> 
> I will always love you more each day  
> I will always try to keep you safe
> 
> So open up your eyes  
> So they can look in mine  
> And see a small reflection  
> And when you close your eyes  
> I pray the thoughts inside  
> Are beautiful and true
> 
> I will always  
> I will always love you

Mulder moved as quickly as possible towards the helicopter door, carrying Scully and their child, who still remained partially hidden underneath her gray t-shirt, nestled against her warm chest. Mulder could only see the top of his head popping out through the neck of the shirt. Scully’s eyes were looking up at him, tears still rolling down her cheeks.

“Mulder,” she cried, her face crumpling. She felt a flood of different emotions. She was still afraid that Billy Miles and those others could return. She felt the euphoria of holding her baby boy in her arms. She felt such an intensely deep love for the man holding her, and almost couldn’t believe he was really there. He’d really come for her. He’d found her and their son in that godforsaken place, and was taking them away.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here, Scully, but everything’s gonna be all right,” he said. He could tell she was overwhelmed. She looked pale and exhausted, and he had no idea just how much blood she’d lost. The state of the bed inside that building hadn’t been very reassuring. He glanced behind to see that Agent Reyes was still walking with them, just a few steps back.

As they approached the chopper, Monica walked ahead of Mulder and Scully to open the rear door, which contained the large back seat. He started to let go of Scully to place her in the seat, but she clutched at him almost frantically. He sighed, and changed his plan. Holding onto her even tighter, he stepped sideways into the back of the chopper, lifting himself up and sliding into the seat until he was fully inside with Scully on his lap. Her arm came down and she rested her hand on his shoulder, nuzzling her face against his neck.

The pilot handed a headset back to Mulder, and grabbing it, he put it on with one hand. “What hospital can we get her to?” Mulder asked him.

“I’ve been on the radio with Emory University Hospital in midtown Atlanta,” the pilot replied. “They’re prepared to receive a patient.”

“Good,” Mulder said, before turning to Agent Reyes. “How long ago was the baby born?”

She had to raise her voice above the din caused by the helicopter. “Less than 30 minutes ago!”

He then turned back to address the pilot. “Get back on the radio. Tell them we’ve got a 36 year old woman who just gave birth half an hour ago. She and her baby might need medical attention.”

“You got it,” the pilot responded, and then contacted the hospital.

“Agent Reyes, we’re going to Emory University Hospital in Atlanta,” Mulder told her.

She nodded. “I’ll get in the car and meet you there!” she shouted above the noise. Monica then shut the chopper door, closing it on Mulder, Scully, and their child, relieved that the baby had been born safely and hoping the danger had passed. She finally felt tears begin to fill her eyes, allowing herself to feel the emotions she’d fought hard to hold back. Monica couldn’t remember ever being so scared in all her life.

The pilot glanced into the back seat, and feeling assured they were settled, lifted off the ground. It would be an hour’s ride to the hospital. Mulder removed the headset and placed it on the seat next to him. He then bent down slightly and kissed Scully’s forehead. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he also felt at a loss for words. It was too loud inside the helicopter for conversation, anyways, and he was sure Scully was too exhausted for one. Mulder pressed his lips to her forehead again, and she snuggled closer against him, her eyes finally closing.

The baby was awake and alert, resting quietly against the warm skin of Scully’s chest, and almost as soon as she’d closed her eyes, they flew open. She looked up at Mulder in surprise, and he met her look with a puzzled one of his own, brows furrowing. Scully smiled up at him, and then looked down at her chest, pulling the t-shirt up and revealing the baby, who had finally latched onto her breast and begun to feed. She’d tried while they were still lying on that bed, but had been unable to get him to latch on. She supposed she must’ve been under too much stress to get it working. Mulder smiled down at the look of excitement and joy on Scully’s face, watching their son in fascination.

But after only 10 minutes, the baby fell asleep against her breast, and Scully was able to close her eyes and rest. It was almost midnight when Mulder saw the light from the landing pad on the roof of a large building, the Emory University Hospital. Soon after, the chopper was on the roof and he could see a medical team assembled at the door away from the landing area. The helicopter blades slowed, and the pilot shut the engine off. The rear door opened, and Mulder turned to see a man with silver hair and white lab coat standing there along with several nurses in green scrubs.

“You need a wheelchair or gurney?” the doctor asked.

He opened his mouth to respond, but Scully spoke up and answered. “Wheelchair.” Mulder looked down at her, meeting her eyes, and then he nodded, before climbing out of the chopper with her still in his arms. He placed her in the wheelchair, feeling slightly uneasy. He would’ve felt much better if he’d still been able to hold on to her and take her inside the hospital himself.

The doctor turned to lead the way through the doors and the medical team followed, Mulder walking beside Scully’s wheelchair, his hand on her shoulder. Once they’d reached the maternity ward, entering one of the delivery rooms used for emergency procedures, one of the nurses, a middle-aged African American woman, reached for the baby in Scully’s arms, but her grip only tightened.

“No, don’t touch him!” she commanded, her eyes glinting fiercely.

The nurse seemed dumbstruck, and nervously glanced between Scully, Mulder, and the other medical staff in the room. She then gave Scully a kind smile. “It’s okay, sweetie. We just have to check him out. We’ll bring him right back to you.”

But Scully only shook her head determinedly, her fear written all over her face. Mulder sighed, and turned to the nurse. “Listen, uh, she’s been through quite an ordeal tonight.”

The nurse turned to look at the doctor, and he nodded. She then turned back to address Mulder. “We can do the preliminary exam here. But if anything else is needed, we will have to take him out of the room.”

He looked down at Scully, and she sighed. “Whatever you say, Mulder.”

He smiled, and thought she truly must be exhausted if she was going to let him take control of the situation. “Let’s let the nurses look him over, Scully. Just to make sure he’s okay.”

She sighed again, fatigue really setting in, and surrendered her son to the nurse, who then started to walk with him over to the other side of the room. Scully’s eyes flew to Mulder, anxiety etched across her features. He nodded reassuringly, giving her shoulder a squeeze, and followed the nurse. He then stood off to the side of the table where the nurse had laid down the baby, and made sure he was in somewhat equal distance between Scully and their son. Mulder wasn’t armed, but if anyone made a threatening move, he didn’t doubt that he would easily kill everyone in this room to protect her and the baby.

“The cord was obviously cut by someone who had no idea what they were doing,” grumbled the nurse. She then applied a clamp to the remaining cord, tying it off correctly. “Was that you?"

Mulder shook his head sadly. "I wasn't there."

"Well, Dad, you wanna come over here and help me fix it?” the nurse asked, smiling at him.

“Me?” he asked, his eyes widening in surprise. Mulder looked over at Scully, who was being looked over by the doctor, and she gave him an encouraging nod of her head. He then turned back to the nurse and a pair of scissors were shoved into his hand.

“Cut the cord, right here,” she said. He sighed and did as she told him, before laying the scissors down away from the baby. He eyed the sharp tool, prepared to grab it and use it with excessive force if anyone suddenly posed a threat.

The nurse worked over the baby, and then she was talking again. “Okay, you’ve got a big, fine boy. Strong heartbeat, mature lungs. He weighs seven pounds, eight ounces, and he’s 19 and three-quarter inches long. Nice, healthy boy you’ve got here. Okay, here you go, Dad.” She swaddled the baby, and lifted him to Mulder.

His eyes widened, and he again looked over at Scully. She smiled at him, but didn’t speak. He turned back and the nurse placed the baby in his arms. He gazed down at the tiny boy he held, holding him close to his chest, and the baby seemed to look up at him.

“It seems as though you’ve got a very alert baby on your hands,” the nurse said as she glanced at the child in Mulder’s arms.

He nodded, and walked back over to Scully. At the sight of him holding their son, she felt emotion overwhelm her again, and tears filled her eyes, quickly brimming over and rolling down her face. Mulder lowered the baby to her and she reached for it, taking it in her arms. He smiled down at her as she moved their son to her breast. She’d never looked more beautiful. His heart swelled with happiness and pride, full to bursting.

Mulder then walked over to speak with the doctor. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“She has a low-grade fever,” the doctor replied, before looking down at the chart he was writing in. “Probably caused by the trauma. It's 101 right now, and I don't want it to get any higher. I’m going to give her some pain reliever and fever reducer. And I’d like to keep her here in the delivery room for a few hours, in case she starts to bleed.” He then looked up, seeing the fear and anxiety in Mulder’s face. “Hey, I didn’t mean to worry you. Ms. Scully is doing very well considering what she’s just been through. She doesn't need stitches or any other treatment. And other than her slightly raised temperature, all her vital signs are good. I’d just feel a lot better if we could keep an eye on her for a few hours before we move her into a private room on the ward.”

The doctor smiled, and patted Mulder on the shoulder in a friendly way. “Try not to worry about your family. Mom and baby are both doing well. And they’re in good hands.”

Mulder watched the doctor leave the room, and then he turned back to the bed, where the nurse was helping Scully position the baby on top of a pillow to breastfeed. His eyes widened, and he again watched with fascination. She looked up to meet his gaze, and her cheeks blushed slightly. The nurse left the bedside, and then returned with a chair for Mulder, giving him a wink before leaving the room to give them privacy.

He sat down by the bed, helplessly staring at the baby boy nursing from Scully’s full breast. Mulder couldn’t stop the smile that broke out over his face, but he didn’t speak and sat quietly at her side, feeling amazed at what he was witnessing and relishing this new intimacy between them.

The boy’s eyes, bright and shiny and blue, were open and looking up at his mother. Scully smiled down at him. “He’s so beautiful, Mulder,” she whispered.

He felt a lump grow in his throat, and tears pricked his eyes, thinking over the doctor’s words, referring to Scully and the baby as his family. He’d never thought it was possible to love her more than he did, but apparently he’d been wrong. And what he felt for this small life in her arms, their son, Mulder couldn’t even put it into words. He felt like crying, so he tried to focus on something mundane he could say to her.

“What does that feel like?” he asked, his voice thick.

“Strange,” Scully replied, smiling. “But in a good way.”

She then moved the baby to nurse at her other breast, and asked Mulder to get her a damp cloth. He excitedly stood up from the chair, and walked over to the table, grabbing a washcloth and wetting it in the sink with warm water. He quickly walked back over to Scully, handing her the cloth just as she’d gotten the baby to latch on. But just a few minutes later, she looked back over at Mulder.

“I think he fell asleep,” she said.

“Amateur,” he quipped, and then sighed. “Kids today. He’s got the best seat in the building, and he clearly doesn’t appreciate it.”

Scully grinned at him, and he smirked in return. She then started to shift over, trying to move off the bed.

“Hey, hey, hey. What’re you doing?”

“The baby needs to be changed,” she said.

Mulder stood up. “You’re not getting out of that bed, Scully. I can do it.”

She arched a skeptical eyebrow at him.

“Well… I can try,” he replied. “At least.”

Scully held out the baby to him, and Mulder lifted him from her arms. As he walked over to the table, she didn’t offer any instructions or fuss over what he was going to do or not do. Scully couldn’t possibly put into words the emotions she felt when seeing Mulder hold their baby, and there wasn’t anyone else on earth whom she'd trust with her child more.

He fervently brought forward in his mind what he’d read about in Scully’s pregnancy and childbirth books, and carefully removed the diaper, cleaning his son as the boy fidgeted and looked up at him. When Mulder finished, he brought the baby back over to Scully, but saw that she’d moved to lay on her side, her eyelids were growing heavy, and she was starting to drift to sleep. He laid the baby down next to her, her arm moving around the baby to cradle him close to her.

Mulder then turned the chair until he was sitting side by side with Scully’s bed, and she finally allowed her eyes to close. She reached for his hand, and he took it, holding it tenderly in his own. Mulder sat facing the door, where he was determined to remain vigilantly awake, refusing to allow anyone or anything to endanger his family further.

*****

It was nearly 2:00 am when Monica arrived at Emory University Hospital, and after using her FBI badge, she gained admittance to the maternity ward. Standing in front of the delivery room which currently held Scully, she cracked open the door to peek inside. Mulder immediately sat up straighter in the chair at the bedside, as if preparing to attack if necessary. Seeing it was Agent Reyes at the door, his posture relaxed.

Just then, the doctor who had admitted Scully came up behind Agent Reyes, moving past her and into the room, along with the African American nurse from earlier. The doctor quietly removed the chart from its holder at the end of the bed and looked it over while the nurse took Scully’s temperature, carefully so as not to wake her. She then whispered to the doctor that it had lowered to 100.2o. The doctor wrote the information on the chart and returned it to the foot of the bed. After running a hand through his silver hair, he instructed her to move Scully to a private room down the hall.

The nurse turned around, and laying eyes on Monica still standing in the doorway, quickly approached her. “Ma’am, are you family?”

She showed the nurse her badge. “No, I’m Special Agent Monica Reyes with the FBI. I’m a friend of Agent Scully’s. I, uh… I delivered her baby.”

“Oh, so _you’re_ the one who cut the cord,” the nurse replied, eyeing Monica was slight disapproval.

Mulder grinned behind them, watching as Agent Reyes gave the nurse a puzzled look. The doctor then walked away from the bed, joining the nurse and Monica. “Would you be able to shed some light on what exactly happened to Ms. Scully earlier?” he asked.

Gently laying Scully’s hand on the bed, Mulder stood up from the chair and walked over to them. “Could this conversation be moved out to the hall?” he asked, keeping his voice low. “She needs to sleep. I don’t want her to wake up.”

The doctor, nurse, and Agent Reyes stepped outside the room, Mulder following them. He then shut the door behind him, before crossing his arms and taking a security guard’s stance in front of it.

“I’m Dr. Reginald Maitland, by the way,” he said, shaking Monica’s hand.

“Hi, Agent Reyes,” she replied.

“Kim Davis,” the nurse said, pointing to the name tag on her upper left chest, which also had ‘RN, BSN’ next to her printed name.

Mulder, Dr. Maitland, and Ms. Davis then listened as Monica recounted the events of the past 14 hours, from when they arrived at Democrat Hot Springs up until the moment Mulder arrived with the helicopter. The doctor and nurse stared at Agent Reyes, eyes wide and mouths open, unable to fully comprehend why all those people would just show up at a long-deserted town, watch Scully give birth, and then just leave. Mulder didn’t understand it either.

He had felt almost positive that Billy Miles and those alien replicants wanted to take the baby from Scully, perhaps even destroy it. During the entire time he traveled from DC to Georgia, he fought hard to push back his worst fear: that he’d be too late, and he’d only find Scully dead and the baby gone, or dead along with her. This nauseating fear had sat in the pit of his stomach like a lead weight, and only upon finding them both alive and unharmed did he feel a sense of blessed relief like he’d never known before.

After Kim Davis retrieved a young blonde nurse aide, Mulder followed them inside the delivery room. Scully was still asleep but the baby began to stir against her. Not wanting the boy to wake her up, Mulder gently lifted him from where he laid fidgeting and snorting beside her. He held the baby against his chest, and he quieted immediately.

Unlocking the breaks on the wheels of the bed, Kim and the nurse aide began to move the bed towards the door. Scully’s eyes immediately opened, and she blinked as she tried to take in her surroundings.

“Where’s my baby?” she asked, sounding almost frantic.

“I have him, Scully,” Mulder said.

She quickly looked up to see him standing off to the side of the bed. “Mulder, I want to take him home. I want to get out of here.”

He instantly felt concerned, wondering how long she’d be dealing with this anxiety. “I know you do. But, Scully, you know that you have to stay in the hospital for at least day or two. Right?”

She sighed, and she nodded her acquiescence. While the nurse, Kim, opened the door for the aide to push the bed through, Mulder returned the baby to Scully’s arms, and she relaxed. He then leaned down further and kissed her forehead, feeling relieved that her skin didn’t feel hot with fever.

Mulder walked behind Scully’s bed as it moved through the hospital corridor, Agent Reyes following him, and then they entered a private room towards the end of the hallway.

“Listen, I’m, uh, gonna get a motel room in town,” Monica said quietly to Mulder. “I’ll stay for as long as you and Agent Scully are here. I’ll probably leave the FBI sedan at the field office, and then fly back to DC with you.”

“You’re not going home to New Orleans?” he asked her.

She shook her head. “I have a feeling John is going to need my help explaining what’s happened.”

He snorted. “I don’t doubt you there.”

Monica gave him a slight smirk. “Agent Doggett does the best he can.”

“I know,” replied Mulder. He then watched her leave the room, before turning to see the nurse aide locking the wheel breaks as Kim took the baby from the arms of a once-again sleeping Scully, placing him in a clear hospital bassinet at her bedside. She then walked up to him.

“We’re gonna have to wake her up to feed the baby soon,” she told him. “I know she’s exhausted, but the baby needs to feed every two hours or so.”

He nodded, and the nursing staff left the room. Forty-five minutes later, Kim returned to the room, Mulder suspecting she had waited a little longer than normal to allow Scully to get some much-needed rest. After waking Scully, the nurse helped position her with a pillow on her lap, and soon her son was feeding from her breast. Contentment and warmth flooded Mulder’s insides as he sat down in the chair and watched Scully smile down at their child. There was such love and affection in her face, a look he’d never really seen her make before.

Scully nursed for about 20 minutes, until the baby stopped suckling, his hands no longer fisted against her breast, and he appeared very relaxed and sleepy. She then handed him to Mulder, who set him down in the bassinet, and after trying his hands at swaddling, the baby was soon asleep.

*****

At 10:30 am on Tuesday, January 2nd, Monica returned to Emory University Hospital to check on Scully and the baby. She’d managed to get almost six hours of sleep, but she rightfully guessed that the brand new parents hadn’t. After knocking on Scully’s room door and letting herself in, she saw that Scully was sitting up in bed, pulling a blanket over her nursing baby at the sight of Monica walking in the room, while Mulder sat in the chair at her bedside. Monica also noticed that he looked absolutely exhausted.

“Agent Mulder, haven’t you gotten any sleep?” Monica asked.

He sighed. “I’m not an agent anymore, so it’s just regular Mulder now. And no, I can’t sleep while… while there are still… I mean, I, uh, I just need to stay awake.”

Scully and Monica exchanged looks, before Scully looked back down at her baby boy and smiled as he suckled contentedly. A couple minutes later, she removed the blanket, and after swaddling her baby, she placed him in the bassinet to sleep. Her eyelids immediately became heavy, and she scooted down to lay against the pillows. Mulder felt he could barely keep his eyes open anymore, but he had to stay awake to protect his family.

Monica shook her head at him. “So, ‘regular Mulder,’” she said, grinning. “I’m going to take that chair you’re sitting in and park it right outside that door. And that’s where I’m going to sit for the rest of the day. I want you and Agent Scully to get as much sleep as possible. I’ll stay awake and keep guard.”

Scully gave her a look of heartfelt gratitude, and Mulder stood up from the chair without being told twice. Monica grabbed it, and carried it out to the hallway, planting it beside the door.

“Lay down with me,” Scully said to Mulder, and he gave her a tired smile. After turning off the light, he walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed up, pressing himself behind Scully until they were spooned together. He nuzzled the back of her head, breathing in her fresh scent from the shower she’d had earlier that morning, and wrapped his arm around her. The last thing they saw before they slipped into unconsciousness was their son, sleeping peacefully beside them.

Four hours later, Ira Martin, one of the maternity ward RNs on the day shift, knocked on the door and let himself in the room. Mulder and Scully awoke to the sound of the door closing, and looked over at the young African American in green scrubs walking towards them, smiling.

“I’ve got your newborn birth certificate worksheet,” Ira said as he approached the bed. “As well as the paternity acknowledgment affidavit.”

Mulder moved off the bed, and Ira glanced between them and the sleeping baby as he handed Scully the forms. “When was the last time the baby ate?” he asked.

Scully glanced at the clock on the wall. “Around 10:30.”

He shook his head, tsking her. “You have to feed the baby more often, Dr. Scully, even if that means waking him up.”

“We needed to sleep,” she said.

“Hmm. I also see you got yourselves a bouncer outside,” he joked, smirking. “I thought she was going to ask me for a thumbprint and oral swab just to get in the room.”

Mulder chuckled, and moved to stand against the wall.

Ira just shook his head. “She made me show her the back of my neck. Apparently, I passed her test because she let me come in.”

While he checked over the baby as it lay in the bassinet, recording his vital signs, Mulder sat down in the chair in the corner of the room. He and Scully gazed at each other, each wondering about Ira’s words. Scully had no idea what that ‘back of the neck’ comment meant. But Monica had told Mulder the night before about the neck of Billy Miles, and the game warden woman, and the terrible feeling that had given her.

And everything started flooding Mulder: the threat these alien replicants posed, whatever their possible agenda might be, which he had no clear idea of, the insinuations and warnings of Krycek, whether he’d told complete lies, complete truths, or only half-truths. But something he had said was starting to rise above the rest in Mulder’s mind, along with another conversation he’d had with Krycek just over two months ago and the fact he’d offered Skinner the supposed opportunity to save Mulder’s life, but only if he found a way to end Scully’s pregnancy. He also remembered a conversation he’d had with Krycek just recently, while they waited inside Skinner’s office at FBI headquarters.

_“You say these human replacements are unstoppable,” Mulder said. “How do you know that?”_

_Krycek popped open a can of soda. “You saw me run over Billy Miles. He was dead, and he got up and walked away. What do you need?”_

_“I need to stop them,” he replied forcefully. “And I’m curious as to how you know so much about them.”_

_“Well, I keep my ear to the ground,” Krycek replied._

_Skinner stared at him. “Good. Because you’ll be spending a lot of time down on your hands and knees where you’re going, Krycek.”_

_He rolled his eyes, and sat back on the leather couch._

_“Don’t get too comfortable,” Mulder said, before walking out of the office._

After Ira handed Scully the baby and left the room, Mulder watched her nurse for about 20 minutes, and then return their son to the bassinet. He then gazed at her as she looked over the birth certificate worksheet. A sense of dread filled his stomach, and he felt panicked as more of Krycek’s words pounded in his ears.

_“With one bullet you can save a thousand lives. Shoot Mulder.”_

_“You have no idea just how dangerous that baby is.”_

_“Whichever side has the most powerful weapon is gonna win the war. They’re never gonna let you raise that kid.”_

Mulder stared at Scully. “What are you gonna name him?”

She looked up at him and smirked. “Why? You have another request?”

He cleared his throat, and entwined his fingers nervously. “I was, uh, just thinking that… I mean, I don’t know what you were planning, but… I think you and the kid should have the same last name.”

She stared at him, not really knowing what to think. “You… you don’t want him to have yours?”

Mulder cleared his throat again, and averted his eyes. He felt like he was letting her down, but he also felt he had good reasons. “The name Mulder probably wouldn’t do him any good, Scully. It’s not like there’s a whole lot to feel proud about within my heritage. The name Mulder has a shit ton of baggage attached to it. My name could be too dangerous for him. Scully is a much better name, a safer name. I also happen to like it more than any other.”

She smiled at him sadly, before looking down at the worksheet boxes designated for the father’s information. “Mulder… do you want your name on the birth certificate?” she asked quietly.

He couldn’t look at her, and stared at his hands, tears filling his eyes. “No,” said Mulder softly, managing to squeeze the word past the lump growing in his throat.

Scully nodded, still not really knowing what to say to that, and proceeded to leave those boxes blank as she filled out the worksheet. After a couple minutes, Mulder cleared his throat.

“So… what are you gonna name him?” he asked.

She gazed at him, then back down at the worksheet, and then sighed, looking back up. “I, uh, I guess I haven’t decided.” Scully had thought she’d pretty much known what she’d like to call her son, but now that she wasn’t going to be writing the name ‘Mulder’ on the birth certificate, she found herself starting to slightly rethink her decision.

“‘Complications of Labor or Delivery,’” she read out loud, and then looked up at Mulder.

“Do you think if you put down being surrounded by aliens on that paper, they’d transfer you to the psychiatric unit?” he quipped.

She snorted, shaking her head, and then returned to the worksheet. “‘Abnormal Conditions and Congenital Anomalies of This Newborn.’”

Mulder and Scully then silently gazed at one another, uncertainty filling their minds.

*****

On Wednesday, January 3rd, at 11:00 am, Scully and the baby were discharged from the hospital in Atlanta. They drove with Agent Reyes to the Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport, where they then boarded the 2:00 pm nonstop United flight to Washington, DC. After disembarking the plane shortly after 4:00 and saying goodbye to Agent Reyes outside the Arrivals doors soon after, Mulder, Scully, and their son got into a taxicab and made the 35 minute drive home to Georgetown.

Once he’d unlocked the apartment door and let Scully inside, he closed and locked it behind him.

“It feels so good to be home,” she sighed.

“You should go take a nap,” he said.

Scully carried the baby through the living room and to the nursery, Mulder following her. “I’m gonna go take a shower,” she told him after setting the baby down in his bassinet. “Why don’t you take him out to the living room with you while I get cleaned up. Then you can take a shower when I’m done.”

“Was that a subtle hint that I stink?” he quipped.

“I really didn’t think it was all that subtle,” she replied, grinning at him.

Later, after Mulder had showered and settled into the living room with the baby, Scully getting some sleep in her bedroom, he noticed the red light flashing frantically on her answering machine. He groaned, and picking up his son, held him against his chest as he walked over to check the machine.

“Prepare to meet grandma, kid,” Mulder deadpanned.

And he’d been right. Mrs. Scully had left several messages. There’d even been a message from Charlie and Jennifer, and one from Bill Jr with the pleasant question, ‘So what did Mulder do to you this time?’ But Mrs. Scully’s messages were increasingly worried for Scully, demanding to know where she was, demanding that she call her as soon as possible.

“Oh, boy, we’re in trouble,” he breathed, after deleting the last remaining message.

Mulder then grabbed the cordless phone and called Charlie, Skinner, and the Lone Gunmen, telling them about the arrival of Scully’s son, and reassuring them all that both mother and child were doing good. After laying the baby down in the bassinet, he carried it to Scully’s bedroom and set it down at her bedside. She opened her eyes, smiling as she looked up at him.

“Hey you,” he whispered. “Listen, I’m, uh, gonna go see your mom. She’s freaking out. If I call her, she won’t be happy with just a phone call, and she’ll come running over here.”

Scully grimaced.

“Exactly,” replied Mulder. “So, I’m gonna go down to Alexandria and see her. Explain that you need some time to yourself to rest and recover, and maybe she can come by in a couple days.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, before stifling a yawn. “You’re so good to me.”

He shrugged. “Only because I love you.”

She smiled, and he bent down to press his lips to her forehead. Mulder then left the bedroom, and after taking his jacket from the closet, walked out the door and drove to Alexandria. He spent an hour at Mrs. Scully’s, being force-fed lasagna and answering her barrage of questions as best he could.

While he was gone, Scully heard a knock at her door just after 7:30 pm. Immediately, her heart started pounding and she wished Mulder hadn’t gone. She glanced at her sleeping baby in the bassinet, and after grabbing her gun holster from atop her dresser, pulled her weapon free and left the bedroom. But her anxieties proved to be fruitless, as she saw three friendly faces through the peephole of her front door.

She let the Lone Gunmen inside, smiling at the wrapped packages in their hands.

“We got off the phone with Agent Doggett earlier today,” said Byers. “Heard the good news.”

“You were lucky Mulder got to you in time,” Langly told her.

“She was lucky Agent Reyes was with her,” added Frohike.

Scully smiled. “You wanna see the baby?”

The Gunmen grinned widely at her and nodded enthusiastically, before following her through the kitchen to her bedroom, where she set her weapon back inside its holster. Scully walked over to the bassinet, and after grabbing a baby blanket, lifted her son up into her arms. She then turned towards the Gunmen, and they stepped closer to her and the baby. They immediately started making cooing sounds at the baby, and Scully smiled as her son’s eyes opened wide, alert to the sights and sounds of the Lone Gunmen leaning over him.

“He’s precious,” said Byers.

Mulder then used his key to enter Scully's apartment, and he looked around the living room as he fingered the key thoughtfully. This was really his home now. He had a partner in every sense of the word, and they now had a son. He’d never felt more content, and his fears started to slowly dissipate. Those human replacements, or alien replicants, whatever they were called, had clearly left Scully and her baby alone. No one had come after them. Mulder wanted to believe they were now safe from any immediate danger, and that whatever agenda the alien replicants had had for Scully or the baby was now obsolete. Mulder now had a real home and a family, and he fervently hoped neither would ever be taken from him.

He walked through the living room, into the hallway, and toward the bedroom, stopping near the doorway. He saw the Lone Gunmen were there in the room, speaking to Scully. They were all holding gifts. As one, they looked up at Mulder as he stood there.

Frohike then looked back at Scully. “Get some rest.”

“Yeah,” she replied, giving him a smile.

The Gunmen then joined Mulder in the hallway.

“We didn't hear you come in,” Frohike said, keeping his voice low.

“We were just dropping off gifts,” explained Langly, also speaking quietly.

“We just wanted to...,” Byers added, before pausing.

Mulder nodded, giving them a slight smirk. “See it with your own eyes.”

Frohike shook his head in disbelief. “It's incredible, you know? You arriving in time to save Scully. Getting her to a hospital.”

“We still don't know how you did it,” said Byers. “Speaking with Agent Doggett, he said they never reached you with specific coordinates.”

Mulder gave them a small smile, pausing before he spoke. “There was a light. I followed it.”

The Gunmen then set their presents down on the table against the wall outside Scully’s bedroom.

“Guess we got our next headline,” Langly said.

They then left, and Mulder waited a moment outside the room, and after hearing the apartment door open and close, knowing the Gunmen to be gone, he entered the bedroom. Scully was sitting on the edge of the bed against the headboard, wearing white satin pajamas and a loose blue robe. She was holding a small bundle in her arms that was their son and some blankets.

“How's everybody doing?” he asked, smiling.

Returning his smile, Scully rose from the bed. “We're doing just fine.” She carried the baby over to Mulder and he gently pushed the blanket away from the baby’s face.

“Hey, now,” he said, looking down at the face of his son. The baby then began softly fussing, and Mulder spoke with tender authority. “None of that.”

Scully smiled, looking up at him and then gently transferred the baby to Mulder's arms. He still felt a bit nervous about holding something so fragile, but he also felt awed and delighted. The baby then calmed in his arms, and Mulder beamed. It was a sight she never thought she’d ever be able to see, an experience she’d believed had been cruelly ripped from her on that terrible night in Montana. Scully’s heart swelled, feeling her love for both Mulder and her son deepen, grow stronger. She’d never felt more connected to Mulder, never felt more in love with him than at that moment. She wondered if it was every person’s dream to feel this way about someone. It sometimes felt like a dream.

He glanced from the baby to Scully. “Hi,” he breathed. Mulder hummed softly, and looked up at her again. “What are you going to call him?”

She looked at him, briefly pausing, and then said, “William.”

Mulder looked at her, and immediately thought of her deceased father, whose death he knew she had taken hard, despite her best efforts to hide that fact from him. With an indescribable sinking feeling, he suddenly wondered if his son would have the same name as Bill Jr, not knowing how he’d ever be able to hide the disappointment.

“After your father,” Scully clarified.

They gazed at each other for a long moment. Words couldn’t express what he felt. She smiled warmly. Scully thought she understood exactly why Mulder had wanted his name omitted from the birth certificate, his fears for their son’s safety and his concerns for his well-being taking precedent over personal preference. She’d felt slightly disappointed, but knowing Mulder, he was most likely right. And so at the last minute, she’d written a different name than what she’d had planned. Sure, she’d dreamed of naming a son after her father and had hoped to give her son Mulder’s surname. But she wanted to respect Mulder's wishes and feelings. Her son was going to be a Scully, and the name 'Fox' was not to come anywhere near their boy. So she needed to find another way to make his parentage clear. As she sat in her hospital bed, holding the pen over the birth certificate worksheet, she wrote the name William down, as planned. But she paused over the box designated for a middle name. Scully then suddenly thought of the Christmas gift she'd gotten Mulder, and smiling, she confidently filled in the space with William's middle name.

Mulder looked back down at the baby. “Well, I don't know. He's… he's got your coloring and your eyes. But he looks suspiciously like Assistant Director Skinner.”

They chuckled quietly, but then she frowned in confusion. “I don't understand, Mulder… they came to take him from us… why they didn't.”

“I don't quite understand that either,” he said. “Except that maybe he isn't what they thought he was. That doesn't make him any less of a miracle though, does it?” He looked up at her and she smiled.

“From the moment I became pregnant, I feared the truth… about how… and why. And I know that you feared it, too.”

Mulder stared down into the beautiful face of his son. “I think what we feared were the possibilities.” He then looked back up at her. “The truth we both know.”

Scully stared at him. “Which is what?”

Still holding William between them, Mulder leaned down and kissed Scully softly on the lips, and then she reached out to hold his arms, encircling their son, and deepened the kiss. The only truth that really mattered or that they could ever hope to truly understand, were the truths that lay between them. And the truth was they were in love, and it was only because of that love that they now held this miracle in their arms.


	101. "He was a brooding but heroic young man, beloved of a sublime beauty with a light that seemed to follow her wherever she went."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully care for baby William. They also receive some visitors, and discuss faith. Doggett and Monica stop by with a completed X-File report for Mulder and Scully to look over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plumb – “My Child”
> 
> Peacefully you are sleeping  
> Silently you dream  
> And I cannot help but feeling blessed  
> While watching you
> 
> Your eyes, my eyes  
> Your smile, my smile  
> Your love, my gain  
> Your hurt, my pain  
> Your laugh, my joy  
> Every time, it's mine  
> You are my child
> 
> I will always protect you  
> Oh and I will even let you go  
> I'll spend the sweetest time holding you  
> And will let you grow
> 
> Your eyes, my eyes  
> Your smile, my smile  
> Your love, my gain  
> Your hurt, my pain  
> Your laugh, my joy  
> Every time, it's mine  
> You are my child
> 
> Don't ever be afraid  
> Don't ever be afraid  
> ‘Cause I am here  
> And if you start to fear  
> Just close your eyes  
> And hear me say
> 
> Your eyes, my eyes  
> Your smile, my smile  
> Your love, my gain  
> Your hurt, my pain  
> Your laugh, my joy  
> Every time, it's mine  
> You are my child

On Friday, January 5th, Scully woke up to the soft noises coming from the wicker bassinet beside her. She glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table behind the bassinet, and saw that it was nearly 3:00 am. Her son was starting to adhere to a feeding schedule, and in the nights since he was born, he always woke around three o’clock. She was glad she’d woken to the sounds of him stirring and not the sounds of him wailing. Mulder was still asleep next to her, and she didn’t want the baby to wake him up.

Scully sat up in bed and then leaned over to gently lift her son from the bassinet. He immediately quieted once he was in her arms, and after she used one hand to unfasten the buttons of her white satin pajama top, the baby was soon contentedly nursing at her breast while she leaned back against her pillows.

She glanced at the other side of the bed, at Mulder sleeping on his back, wearing only a pair of heather gray boxer briefs. The bedroom was mostly dark, with some residual light from the city outside making its way through the blinds in her windows. Scully could make out the contours of his body as he slept. She smiled as her eyes roamed over his arm and shoulder, across his chest, down his abdomen. The weight he’d lost during the five months he was gone had returned, and all that running and playing basketball was paying off. His body was muscular, lean, and hard. He was perfectly healthy again.

After 20 minutes, she lifted William to move him to her other breast, and he immediately voiced his displeasure at being taken from his milk. Mulder groaned and opened his eyes, turning his head to watch Scully shush the baby and quickly latch him to continue feeding. He blinked himself awake, and smiled at the sight of mother and son.

Scully glanced down at him again, and whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” said Mulder.

He silently watched her as she nursed, and when finished, she lifted their son until his chin rested on her shoulder, her hand moving to pat and rub his back. Soon after, she swaddled the baby and placed him down in his bassinet. Once Scully had laid back down, Mulder reached for her and she scooted closer to him, until their legs were entwined and she was pressed up against him, her hands curled against his chest. A moment later, his lips were on hers, kissing her softly, lovingly. It was slow and sensual for some minutes, and then Mulder pulled away.

“I hope the weeks of required abstinence go by quickly,” he said, his voice deep and suggestive.

“I don’t think ‘abstinence’ is the right word,” she replied. “It’s just not a very good idea to have intercourse until I’ve recovered.”

Mulder chuckled. “That’s the furthest thing from your mind right now.”

Scully grinned, running her fingers through his chest hair. “Well… I wouldn’t say the absolute furthest, but yes, there are other things occupying my attention right now.”

He smiled, bringing his hand up to caress her face, and then he yawned. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

She nestled against his chest, and almost immediately after shutting her eyes, she drifted to sleep. Just three hours later, they awoke to a crying baby.

“My turn,” Mulder groaned as he rolled out of bed.

He walked over to Scully’s side, and lifted their son out of the bassinet. He then carried him out of the bedroom and down the hallway to the nursery, where he changed the baby’s diaper. A few minutes later, Mulder returned to the bedroom. But after seeing that Scully had fallen back to sleep, he quietly left the room, closing the door behind him, and carried William to the kitchen. After grabbing one of the two bottles from the refrigerator, he took a Tupperware bowl from one of the cabinets and filled it with hot water. Once the bottle of breast milk had warmed for 15 minutes, Mulder took it out of the bowl and walked with the baby to the living room.

After setting the bottle down on the coffee table, he grabbed the television remote and turned on the TV, putting on ESPN and keeping the volume low. Getting comfortable on the couch, he then held William with one arm and brought the bottle to his mouth. Never having used a bottle yet, the baby wasn’t quickly settling for it.

“I know it’s not as good as the real thing, kid,” Mulder said with a low voice. “And I know you can probably smell her in there, but let’s let Mom sleep, huh?”

But the baby only pushed the bottle away, and started fussing.

“Hey, don’t get cranky,” said Mulder with authoritative tenderness. He then glanced up at the TV screen, seeing the ESPN analysts were now commenting on the previous night’s NBA games. “Oh, here we go. I’m gonna teach you all about basketball, kid. Most importantly, I’m gonna teach you all about the Knicks. Not that you’ll have to be a fan of them, necessarily. But as long as you don’t end up being a fan of the Lakers, we’ll get along just fine.”

To his delight, the baby had stopped fussing and was staring up at him, his blue eyes widening. “Do you like it when I talk to you? Okay, well… you take the bottle, and I’ll talk.” Mulder brought the bottle to the baby’s mouth again, and again he fussed. “William,” he said sternly. Then, to his surprise, the baby took the bottle without further complaint. He then leaned back against the couch, and spoke to his son in a steady stream of sports highlights.

*****

It was just before 9:00 am on Friday when Scully awoke to a sunlit bedroom. She sighed and blinked herself awake, gazing down into the bassinet to see it no longer held her son. She turned to her other side and saw Mulder wasn’t in the bed next to her. She then rolled out of bed, and after a brief pit stop in the bathroom to empty her bladder, stepped out into the hallway. Immediately hearing faint sounds of the television, she made her way into the living room.

There lying asleep on the couch was Mulder, stretched out and still only wearing his heather gray boxer briefs, his head and shoulders propped up on two throw pillows. William, clad only in his diaper, was also asleep on his father’s chest. Scully’s face broke out into a big smile, and she quickly and quietly walked back to the bedroom, grabbing the Kodak disposable camera Mulder had purchased in one of the shops at the Atlanta airport from atop her dresser. She then went back into the living room, and snapped a photo of father and son sleeping peacefully together on the couch.

A sense of contentment and warmth filled Scully as she watched them. From their first night back home it had become obvious: William was a Daddy’s boy. If he was crying, almost as soon as Mulder held him, he quieted. The sound of Mulder’s voice caused his blue eyes to widen and stare up into his father’s face in fascination, as if marveling at it. She wondered at the good effects those months of playing Mulder’s recorded voice had on her child when in the womb, as well as the most recent months of listening to Mulder’s voice whenever she was around him, wondered at the baby’s ability to notice his father’s voice as something recognizable.

Scully couldn’t help but smile whenever Mulder wanted to take William with him wherever he went in the apartment, not wanting to leave him in another room, not wanting him out of his sight. Once Mulder had returned, they’d spent over two months worrying about the baby, waiting for his arrival, so this behavior wasn’t at all surprising to her. William was a precious miracle, and despite the uncertainty of not knowing how exactly this miracle had come about, it was nothing short of a blessing.

She quietly walked into the kitchen and started the coffee maker. Soon the fragrant scent of brewing coffee filled the air, awakening Mulder, who then slowly got up off the couch, still holding a sleeping William to his chest. Scully turned to see him walk into the kitchen, and looking him over from his messy brown hair down to his bare legs, holding their diaper-clad son, she grinned and chuckled softly.

Mulder looked down at his appearance and at the sleeping baby, before looking back up at his partner. “We match.” Scully started giggling, almost immediately the baby startling awake, and he handed her their crying son. “I think he wants you now.”

She smirked and took William in her arms. “I saw the empty bottle on the coffee table. How’d you manage that? I couldn’t when I tried last night.”

He shrugged. “He’s not gonna settle for the bottle when he can get the real thing. But I obviously don’t smell like you, so maybe he just accepted the fact the bottle was all he could get.”

“I really don’t think he’s capable of reasoning yet, Mulder.” Scully grinned, and lifted William until his chin rested on her shoulder, rubbing his back to soothe him as his cries lessened.

“He’s a smart kid, Scully. He figured it out.” Mulder then poured himself a mug of hot coffee. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

She smiled as she watched him walk out of the kitchen and into the hallway, before laying her son in her arms across her chest and looking down into his beautiful face. “Are you hungry?”

Three hours later, at 12:30 pm, Mulder and Scully were stretched out on her bed, lying on their sides with William between them. He was alert and awake, in his red and white striped romper, happily kicking his legs, waving his arms, and watching his father. Their days and nights ever since arriving at the hospital in Atlanta had seemed to run into each other. Those last couple days leading up to the birth of their son, full of running and panic, had made these last few days of peace and a slower pace something to adjust to.

Mulder looked up from his son’s face and met Scully’s gaze, smiling. “I’m unemployed and you’re on maternity leave. It’s the first time since I can even remember that neither of us has someplace to run off to. We can just stay here and do nothing except look after William.” He looked back down at his son. “Have you made a final decision about how long you’re going to stay on maternity leave?”

“I’m going to take the full 12 weeks,” she replied.

He looked up at her, a surprised smile spreading across his face. “Really? George is gonna hold your position for that long?”

“Of course,” Scully said. “Who else is he going to give it to?” She then watched as Mulder played with William’s legs, the baby still happily kicking away. “Are you sure this is what you want to do in the long term? When I start at Quantico, it’ll just be you and William at home all day long.”

“What else would I even do?” he asked as if in disbelief.

She thought about it for a second. “Well… practicing psychologist?” This only got her a blank stare in return. “Um… paranormal consultant?”

His expression didn’t change. “Yeah, that could work, Scully. I’ll buy a van real cheap and paint the name ‘Spooky Investigates’ on the side.”

She chuckled. “Better yet, Mulder, you could probably get some work as a freelance writer for _The_ _Lone Gunman_ magazine.”

He laughed and shook his head, before gazing back down at William. “I was serious about staying at home with the kid, Scully. We’re not leaving him with strangers.”

“Mulder, I just want you to be clear on what you’re taking on,” she replied. “I’ll be gone about 10 hours a day. You’ll have a crying, hungry, pooping baby on your hands. And I won’t be around to help you.”

“But that phase isn’t forever, Scully. And this is an impressionable young mind we have in our care. It’s important that I teach him everything he needs to know.”

She snorted. “Great. He’ll be able to recount the government conspiracy at Scully family gatherings.”

He smirked at her. “I was thinking more along the lines of teaching him how to read the box score of a baseball game.”

Scully smiled and leaned over, pressing her lips to Mulder’s, kissing him sweetly before pulling away.

“What was that for?” he asked, a pleased expression coming over his face.

“I’m just happy,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders. She felt so grateful that Mulder was there, that they had their beautiful son, and that they could all be together. As more time passed since the baby's birth, the more she felt safe from danger. She knew Mulder’s presence had a lot to do with it. Every night before she succumbed to sleep, she silently said a prayer of thanks to God for the two miracles of her life: Mulder and William.

They then looked down at their son, seeing he had fallen asleep. Scully gently lifted him from the bed, and grabbing a blanket, swaddled him before placing him down in the wicker bassinet. “Nap time,” Mulder said, reaching for Scully as she laid back down on the bed, pulling her to cuddle against him. Soon all three were asleep.

*****

At 5:35 pm on Friday, there was a knock on Scully’s front door. She glanced through the peephole, and then opened the door in surprise.

“Sir!” she said cheerfully, stepping aside as she opened the door wider.

Skinner smiled, looking over her disheveled appearance. Her hair was messy, and she was wearing mauve satin pajama pants with a matching top. There were dark circles under her eyes. But she’d never looked more radiant.

“Hi Dana,” he greeted her, walking across the threshold. “How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you,” she replied. “I’m sorry for the mess, sir. The place is kind of cluttered right now. I’m also sorry for still being in my pajamas.”

Skinner chuckled, glancing around at what used to be the spotless apartment of a single FBI agent and now housed a partner and a baby. “It’s nothing to apologize for. I’m sure you’ll be living in your pajamas for the next few weeks. And Scully, there’s no need to call me sir. We’re not at work.”

She snorted, nodding and pulling her hair back behind her ears. “Right.” Scully then walked into the living room, Skinner following her, and did her best to clear away as many objects as possible from the coffee table before turning to face him. A slightly awkward silence briefly filled the room.

“So… I suppose you’ve come over to see our new arrival?” she asked, smiling.

“Uh, yeah, that’d be nice,” replied Skinner quietly, slightly averting his eyes.

At this moment, Mulder walked out of the nursery, where he’d changed the baby’s diaper and dressed him in a clean blue romper, and into the living room. “Hey there, Skinman. How’re things down at the FBI?”

Skinner quickly turned around and watched Mulder approaching him, wearing a long-sleeved navy blue shirt and jeans, holding his son with one hand. The small boy was propped against his left shoulder, the palm of his left hand holding him up. He reached out with his right hand to greet Skinner, who shook his hand enthusiastically.

“I’m… I’m at a loss for words,” Skinner said to him, smiling, and promptly ignored the FBI question. “Mulder, this is the best you’ve ever looked. Fatherhood suits you.”

He smiled. “Thanks.” He then slowly brought the baby down from his shoulder and cradled him in his arms. “William, say hello to Uncle Walter.”

Skinner leaned over the baby boy, who gaped up at him with wide eyes, trying to figure out what this was all about. He brought his finger down to the baby’s hand, and William grasped it tight. “That’s some grip he’s got, Mulder.”

He grinned proudly. “He’s gonna be one hell of an athlete when he gets older. He’s either gonna play for the Yankees or the Knicks. Or maybe the Redskins. He could turn out to be great quarterback.”

Scully sighed dramatically behind them, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. Skinner turned to glance behind and looked at the smirk on her face. “He’s beautiful, Dana. He’s… he’s perfect.”

Mulder’s face fell slightly at Skinner’s choice of word, and he exchanged a brief pointed look with Scully before she replied to the Assistant Director.

She smiled warmly. “Thank you.” Scully then started walking towards the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink, sir?” she asked as she left the room.

“No, that’s all right,” Skinner replied. “I’m good. And drop the ‘sir’ business.”

“Oh, yeah,” she called out from the kitchen. “Sorry.”

The baby then let go of Skinner’s finger, and Mulder sat down on the couch, his former boss joining him. “So who do you think he takes after more? Me or Scully?” he asked.

Skinner chuckled, and looked at the boy’s face as Mulder held him on his lap. “I’d say he looks like the perfect combination of the two of you.”

Mulder nodded, and then lifted the baby to the Assistant Director. Skinner gave him a look of surprise, and then took the baby in his arms. “So what’s life been like with Mulder Jr here?” he asked.

He smiled. “A lot of eating and pooping and not much sleeping. So, you know… life for me hasn’t changed all that much.”

Skinner laughed, and looked down the baby resting contentedly in his arms. “Like father, like son, huh?”

Mulder grinned, and leaned over to look at William. “I think he likes ya.”

“Famous last words,” replied Skinner, as the baby boy started to stir, and an almost frightened look came over his face.

Scully then entered the living room, carrying a steaming mug. “I brought you some coffee, anyways.”

He stood up and gladly traded the baby, quickly becoming dissatisfied at being held by someone unfamiliar, for the cup of coffee. “Thanks.” Skinner then walked over and seated himself in the chair facing the couch, watching Scully sit down next to Mulder, the baby in her arms. He watched them become quickly engrossed in their son, smiles never leaving their faces.

Later that evening, Scully emerged from the bathtub, feeling moderately refreshed and relaxed. Over the last three months of her pregnancy, she hadn’t ventured into the tub and had stuck exclusively to using the shower. To once again enjoy the simple pleasure of a long, hot bubble bath was truly welcomed. She dried herself off with the pale green bath towel she had set on the sink earlier and dressed in her white satin pajamas.

She then walked into the living room to find Mulder watching a basketball game, treating William to a running play-by-play commentary. She smiled as she watched them, briefly pausing, before joining them on the couch. In spite of the uncertainties that still remained, there was one thing Scully was absolutely sure of. She was not afraid of a future that contained Mulder.

In that future, she saw William’s first birthday, his first day of kindergarten, Little League baseball games, and a little boy’s bedroom wholly devoted to dinosaurs and the Solar System. She couldn’t imagine any man, any father, who was better fitted to guide her son through his childhood and adolescence, and even on into his own adulthood. Scully couldn’t imagine a better provider, protector, teacher, and friend than Mulder.

That night, she laid awake for a little while listening to the slow, steady breathing coming from the two most important people in her life, her two boys, and she smiled to herself in the dark. Scully had never felt happier, or more complete.

*****

Shortly after 11:00 on Saturday morning, January 6th, Scully’s apartment was invaded by her mother, Charlie, Jennifer, and their three kids: 13 year old Benjamin, 11 year old Jack, and Hannah, who would shortly be celebrating her first birthday. Maggie brought over a pan of her lasagna as well as a crock pot full of her chicken soup. The excited Scully family all gathered in the living room, taking turns fawning over the baby, who was wide awake and alert to the strange sights and sounds now around him.

“What did you name him?” asked Ben.

“William Edward,” answered Scully, smiling. “After Mulder’s father.”

“That’s a good, strong name,” Charlie said, nodding his approval.

Maggie then left the kitchen after placing the lasagna in the refrigerator, and walked into the living room. “Ooh, can I see the birth certificate?”

Scully glanced nervously at Mulder. She wasn’t sure how her family would react seeing the birth certificate did not contain any information regarding a father, and didn’t know whether she wanted to show off the certificate to those who wouldn’t necessarily understand. She then addressed her mother. “Um, I only have the ‘Mom Copy’ right now. And I, uh, I’m getting it framed. So… sorry.”

“Oh, well… that’s okay, Dana,” Maggie replied. “I can always see it later.”

She didn’t reply.

While Mulder cradled his son in his arms, Jack sat on the couch next to him, and then held up a gift bag. “I got a present for the baby.”

“That was nice of you,” said Scully, who sat in one of the chairs opposite the couch.

Reaching into the gift bag, Jack grinned as he looked at Mulder. “I think you’ll like it, too.”

Smiling, he nodded, before glancing over at Scully who smiled back at him. “Okay.”

Jack then produced a small plush toy from the gift bag, a blue space suit-wearing, green three-eyed alien from the _Toy Story_ movies. Mulder started chuckling and took the stuffed toy from Scully’s nephew, holding it in front of William. “Thanks, Jack.”

After being passed around from family member to family member, who took their turns holding the baby and cooing over him, William started yawning and he was placed in his wicker bassinet next to the couch, where he was soon fast asleep. The family then sat around the living room chatting, while Ben and Jack planted themselves on the floor with their Nintendo Gameboys.

“So, Dana, have you given anymore thought to christening the baby?” asked Maggie.

Scully glanced at Mulder, and he gave her an encouraging smile. She then turned to her mother. “Um, yes, Mom. We’ll be christening the baby.”

Maggie smiled widely at her daughter. “Do you know who you’d like to be the godparents?”

“No, not really,” she replied. “I honestly haven’t given it a lot of thought. I’m sure I will over the next couple months.”

“It’s an important decision, you know,” Maggie said.

Scully sighed, but before she could respond, Jennifer turned to her. “So, you’re going to raise the baby Catholic?” She then glanced at Mulder. “And what do you have to say about that?”

He shrugged. “I figure we’ll have the most well-behaved kid around.”

“Oh, really?” asked Jennifer, smirking as she glanced over at her sister-in-law.

“Yeah,” Mulder replied. “I don’t think he’ll get into too much trouble. Between Scully’s Catholicism and… my beliefs, William will grow up with the perfectly screwed up threat of both eternal damnation _and_ alien abduction hanging over his head.”

Charlie immediately started laughing, while Maggie and Jennifer looked at Mulder as though they couldn’t decide whether he was just joking or not. Scully sighed and slightly shook her head. An hour later, the Scully clan departed the apartment, leaving the new parents and their infant child to enjoy a once-again quiet home. In the evening, after Scully fed the baby and laid him down to sleep in his bassinet, she sat at the dining table and had dinner with Mulder.

She watched him eat chicken soup and the grilled cheese sandwich she’d made in comfortable silence for some minutes before speaking. “Mulder, you… you don’t really want William to be raised Catholic, do you?”

He looked over at her, gazing for a moment, and then sighed. “I don’t want to enforce any belief on an impressionable young child, leaving him with no alternative when he gets older.”

“You mean religion?” Scully asked.

“I guess I don’t want him to grow up with any firm beliefs, one way or another,” Mulder replied. “So that when he’s old enough, he can form his own opinions. Hell, if he develops anything close to your powers of scrutiny, I’m sure he’ll form some pretty good ones.”

She smiled, and took a sip from her water glass. “But he’s going to ask us questions, Mulder. He’ll want to know things from an early age… like, why are we here? Where did we come from? What happens when we die? We have to tell him something.”

He sighed. “But does that something have to be the Catechism of the Catholic Church?”

“No,” she answered.

“Scully, part of me loves you for your faith, for your ability to believe in something so strongly without having any proof of it,” Mulder said. “But your life experience has shown me how shoving organized religion at a child can irreversibly indoctrinate him. The rational, logical Dana Scully I know could never just simply read the doctrines of Catholicism and blindly agree with them. And whatever beliefs you’ve come to accept over the years, regarding the paranormal, it’s because you saw proof of it, with your own eyes. The Scully I know did not decide for herself to follow Catholicism. It was a young, impressionable little girl who formed those beliefs and gave her adult self no way out.”

She gazed at him, and then sighed. “Just because I’m a Catholic doesn’t mean I believe in everything that’s stated in the Catechism, word for word. If I listened to everything I was taught in church and in Catholic School, William wouldn’t even be here.” She grinned at him, and he snorted. “But I do have proof there’s a God, Mulder. Our son is proof. What happened to you in Victorville is proof.”

He stared at Scully, his memories of finding Samantha’s spirit in that clearing in the woods near Arbutus Ray’s home in California flooding his mind. He’d found his sister, held her in his arms, and then let her go. He knew she was in a better place, along with those other children. Was that proof of a higher power? He wanted to believe it was. He wanted to believe William’s conception was proof of a higher power, that he and Scully had been able to create this precious life out of the impossible.

“I’m not saying I don’t believe in God, Scully. It’s organized religion that’s the problem. It tells you what to believe, instead of allowing you to decide that for yourself through life experience and acquired knowledge.”

“And what has your life experience and acquired knowledge taught you?” she asked.

He smiled at her. “It’s taught me… that whatever William ends up believing, if he grows up to have just a fraction of your strength and conviction, he’ll be all right.”

Scully sighed, smiling, and then turned her head sharply at the sudden knock on her front door. She glanced nervously at Mulder, not having expected anyone to come by. He glanced at his watch, seeing it was almost 8:00 pm, and stood up from the table. Scully also stood, and walked over to take William from the bassinet, holding him protectively against her chest. Mulder looked through the peephole, and then relaxed.

“It’s Agent Doggett and Agent Reyes,” he said, turning to Scully. Mulder then opened the door, and greeted their unexpected guests as they stepped inside the apartment. Monica, turning to see Scully holding the baby in the kitchen, cheerfully walked over to greet her.

Scully placed her sleeping son back down in his bassinet, and turned to warmly welcome Agent Reyes. They then stood over William, smiling down at him.

“He’s so beautiful, Dana,” Monica said.

She smiled, and suddenly felt tears prick her eyes and a lump growing in her throat. “Monica…”

Agent Reyes turned to look at her, and smiled.

“I just want to thank you, for everything,” Scully continued, her eyes brimming with tears. “Not just with what you did for me and William, but… even over the summer, when we found Mulder. I don’t really remember a lot, but I know you were there with me. And I just wanted you to know that I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” Monica replied. “Really. I was more than happy to do what I could. The same is true in future. If you ever need me, for anything, never hesitate to call on me.”

Scully quickly wiped the tears from her eyes, smiling. “Thank you, Monica. That means a lot to me.” She then looked over and watched Agent Doggett walk into the kitchen with Mulder. “So what brings you here? I have a feeling this isn’t a social visit.”

Monica glanced over at Doggett. He then held up a red X-File case report in his hand as he sat down at the dining table. “Sorry to interrupt your evening. But we’ve just finished writing up our report on the events of last weekend, and I thought you might want to read it before I hand it in to AD Skinner.”

Mulder and Scully took turns reading the case report, which featured everything that happened with that Lizzy Gill woman, the threat of Billy Miles and the deaths of Dr. Lev, Dr. Parenti, and Duffy Haskell, Krycek’s warnings, the actions of Knowle Rohrer and Agent Gene Crane, and the subsequent strange events surrounding William’s birth.

“When are you planning on turning this in?” asked Mulder, closing the file and handing it over to Agent Doggett.

“First thing Monday morning,” Doggett replied.

Mulder sighed. “The FBI could ruin your career for this. At the very least, Kersh could shut down the X-Files. There are serious accusations against the Bureau and the Defense Department in this case report.”

Agent Reyes glanced over at Doggett. “The most serious accusation isn’t even written down in the report.”

“What do you mean?” Scully asked, her mind starting to churn with anxiety.

“We, uh, found out who was working at the Bureau that night,” said Doggett. “The executive who’d signed into headquarters, and had a meeting with Knowle Rohrer and Agent Crane in the middle of the night. They were presumed dead, but as it happens they’ve turned up missing.”

Mulder stared at the agent now running the X-Files, an air of foreboding now filling the kitchen. “Who was it? Who did they meet with?”

Doggett and Monica exchanged glances. “Deputy Director Kersh,” he said.

Scully’s eyes widened, her mouth falling slightly open, and she turned a worried look on Mulder, who met her intense gaze with furrowed brows, as a sense of dread filled his chest, sinking into his stomach.


	102. “They were likened to two angels descended from heaven, whom the gods could not protect from the horrors being visited upon this cold, gray earth.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deputy Director Kersh receives some disturbing information. He then brings a warning to Mulder and Scully, forcing them to act.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from the episode "Existence" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell – “This Woman’s Work” (Kate Bush)
> 
> Pray God you can cope  
> I stand outside this woman's work  
> This woman's world  
> Oh, it's hard on the man  
> Now his part is over  
> Now starts the craft of the father
> 
> I know you’ve got a little life in you yet  
> I know you’ve got a lot of strength left  
> I know you’ve got a little life in you yet  
> I know you’ve got a lot of strength left
> 
> I should be crying, but I just can't let it show  
> I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking
> 
> All the things we should've said that I never said  
> All the things we should've done that we never did  
> All the things we should've given, but I didn't
> 
> Oh, darling, make it go  
> Make it go away
> 
> Give me these moments  
> Give them back to me  
> Give me that little kiss  
> Give me your hand
> 
> (I know you have a little life in you yet  
> I know you have a lot of strength left  
> I know you have a little life in you yet  
> I know you have a lot of strength left)
> 
> I should be crying, but I just can't let it show  
> I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking
> 
> All the things we should've said that we never said  
> All the things we should've done that we never did  
> All the things that you wanted from me  
> All the things that you needed from me  
> All the things we should've given, but I didn't
> 
> Oh, darling, make it go away now  
> Just make it go away

At 3:15 pm on Monday, January 8th, Agent Doggett received a phone call in his basement office from Stacey Palmer, Kersh's secretary, requesting his immediate appearance in the Deputy Director’s office. After setting the receiver back down, he gazed across his desk at Monica Reyes.

“Time to go,” he said.

She nodded, and they stood up, quietly leaving the office and heading towards the elevators. Not long after, they were walking into Kersh’s office, where he sat at his desk tense and furious.

“You wanted to see me, sir,” said Doggett.

“Take a seat, John.” Kersh then glared at Monica. “I guess you better sit, too.”

After taking the two chairs opposite Kersh’s desk, the room fell silent for a minute as they watched the Deputy Director go through their X-File case report. Doggett had known it was only a matter of time before Assistant Director Skinner would have to turn the file into his superiors.

“I'm to take this story seriously?” asked Kersh, his tone scathing. “These incidents at the FBI. This account of Agent Scully's birth. I'm to submit this report to the Director as quality investigative work? As representative of actual fact?”

Doggett gave a slight nod of his head. “I signed the report there, sir.”

Kersh glared at him. “Yeah, I see it, John. And I see her signature here, too. On an X-File.” He turned his steely glare on Monica. “I'd like to know when you assigned yourself, Agent Reyes.”

“Agent Doggett assigned me, sir,” she respectfully replied.

“Agent Doggett cannot just assume the authority of this office,” Kersh spat.

Doggett started to stand up from the chair, Monica taking his cue. “I assume it because this office is under investigation,” he said. “For the late-night meeting between you, Agent Crane, and an intelligence operative named Knowle Rohrer.”

“Both men were presumed dead but are now missing,” said Monica. “In actual fact.”

Kersh, feeling nervous, watched Agents Doggett and Reyes walk towards his office door. “You investigate what I tell you,” he barked as Doggett opened the door for Monica.

Doggett turned back to look at the Deputy Director. “And you put me on the X-Files. That's what I'm investigating.”

He stared silently as Agent Doggett closed the door behind him and Agent Reyes as they exited the office. Kersh sighed, closing his eyes. He then stared at the intercom button on his desk phone, before pressing the button.

“Yes, sir?” spoke a female voice after the buzz of the intercom.

“Ms. Palmer, can you come in here?” Kersh said.

“Right away, sir.”

The door to the outer office soon opened, and Stacey Palmer approached the desk as Kersh was inserting the red X-Files case report into a blue file folder marked ‘high priority.’ He then handed it to his secretary. “I need you to personally deliver this to the Director. You’re not to hand this to anyone else, not even his assistant. You need to put it into the Director’s hands.”

“Yes, sir,” Stacey said, after taking the folder. She then quickly left the office.

The sun set and the sky began to darken, and Kersh remained in his office, waiting for the inevitable phone call. At 6:12 pm, that phone call came. He hung up the phone, and then made his way down the fifth floor hall towards the Director’s office. Once he knocked on the door with the gold-plated ‘Director Thomas R. Mueller,’ and gained admittance, Kersh saw that the Director was not alone.

Knowle Rohrer was standing near the large desk, alive and well. With him was the newly appointed Assistant Director in Charge of the Washington Field Office, Joel Torrance, chewing on a toothpick. Most everyone had assumed that Walter Skinner, Assistant Director of the Criminal Investigative Division, was the frontrunner for the position. But Kersh had known the Director would never have given an honorable man like Skinner the kind of powerful access that the AD in Charge would have. But the appointment of Torrance had come as a surprise, since the Director hadn’t chosen a senior executive from within headquarters, instead choosing a man who’d served as the Special Agent in Charge of the Salt Lake City Division.

“Glad you got here quickly,” said Director Mueller, standing in front of his desk.

He walked over and shook the Director’s hand. Mueller, a man in his early 50’s with graying black hair, walked around his large desk and sat in the leather office chair. Kersh then took one of the chairs opposite the desk, Knowle Rohrer and Joel Torrance following suit.

“I’m guessing you had time to read over the file I sent,” the Deputy Director said.

“I glanced at it, looked over some of the finer points,” said Director Mueller. “I’m sure it’s quite the read.”

Kersh sighed and leaned back against his chair, crossing his legs and entwining his hands in his lap. He looked expectantly at the Director, who only averted his eyes and looked over at the other two men who were also sitting across from the desk.

“It was reassuring to read that Agent Scully’s baby was born safely,” spoke Knowle Rohrer, staring at the Director. “I know that’s surely what all of us wanted. It’s important to protect Agent Scully and her child from serious threat.”

Assistant Director Torrance removed the toothpick from his mouth, and turned towards Kersh. “And so Fox Mulder is a problem that needs to be dealt with.”

The Deputy Director stared at him for a moment, feeling somewhat confused by such a statement, especially from someone who up until last week had been living out in Utah and most likely didn’t really even know all that much about Mulder. Kersh turned to look at Director Mueller. “I already dealt with Mulder. He’s been fired. He’ll never work for the FBI again. He isn’t a problem anymore. He no longer has access to the X-Files. It was Agent Doggett and that Agent Reyes from the New Orleans Field Office who wrote that report. Mulder had nothing to do with it.”

The Director averted his eyes again, and stared down at the desk. “I didn’t exactly call you in here to discuss Agent Doggett’s case report.”

“Then why did you call me in here?” asked Kersh, a marked edge now to his voice.

“Agent Scully’s baby needs further protections,” answered Knowle Rohrer. “I’m sure you would agree that the FBI takes protecting their own very seriously.”

Kersh thought about that for a moment. “Are you saying that Mulder is somehow a threat to his own child? A threat to Agent Scully?”

The room fell silent, Knowle Rohrer and Joel Torrance exchanging a pointed look before the Assistant Director spoke. “We are acting in the child's best interests. Mulder is dangerous and he must be removed.”

“You’re talking about planning the government-sanctioned murder of a civilian,” Kersh said, staring at Torrance, his eyes slightly widening. “A former FBI agent, who was _one of our own_ for many years.”

The Director shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with the present circumstances. "Come on now, Kersh. We all know Mulder isn't your average civilian. He's been a thorn in the Bureau's side for a decade."

"Which is why I fired him," he replied. "I see no reason why the man needs to be killed."

Knowle Rohrer gave Kersh a superficial smile. “We don’t expect you to fully understand, Deputy Director. We just expect your compliance.”

“You can just as well be easily removed,” said Assistant Director Torrance, before popping the toothpick back in his mouth. “And replaced by someone who understands just how important it is that Mulder is put out of commission permanently."

Kersh glared at him before turning on the Director, who steadfastly refused to meet his eye. “Well, I don’t even know why you bothered bringing me in here to discuss this. The decision to kill Fox Mulder has clearly already been made.”

Director Mueller then looked at him straightforwardly. “Once this has been done, no doubt accusations will be made. Accusations against the FBI, the Justice Department, and who knows what else. I’ve no doubt that Agent Scully and Agent Doggett will work tirelessly to lay the blame somewhere. I also don’t doubt their investigative abilities. You’ll be required to back up the FBI’s claims of innocence, to ensure that the agents working under our command as well as the general public are convinced that Mulder’s death can in no way be linked to the Bureau or any other government agency. And it’s your duty, Kersh, to act in the FBI’s best interests.”

The Deputy Director nodded. “Understood.” The collective posture of Knowle Rohrer, Assistance Director in Charge Torrance, and Director Mueller seemed to slightly relax.

Wanting to change the subject, Kersh cleared his throat. “Well, now that that’s out of the way… perhaps we can discuss that case report and how I was just recently informed that Agent Doggett will be embarking on an internal investigation into my office.”

“Oh, for fuck's sake,” groaned Director Mueller. He then grabbed the blue file folder from the right side of his desk, and after removing the red X-Files case report, set it down and flipped to the first page. "Maybe we should just deal with Agent Doggett as well as Mulder."

Knowle Rohrer nodded.

Kersh eyed him. "Except now that John Doggett has made an official accusation against me, it's probably not in the FBI's best interests for him to wind up dead." He suppressed a smirk, and turned to the Director. "Blame would no doubt be quickly assigned, and we wouldn't want that. Would we?"

Director Mueller sighed, and averted his eyes, gazing back down at the X-Files case report.

*****

It was almost 8:30 on Tuesday night, January 9th, when Scully stood drying her hair with a towel at the bathroom sink, having freshly emerged from a hot bath. After running a comb through her damp hair, she got dressed into her light blue satin pajamas. As she was buttoning up the matching top, the sudden loud cries of an infant could be heard. Scully walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, but William wasn’t in his bassinet.

She stepped out into the hallway, and knew the cries to be coming from the nursery. As she walked down the hall, Scully suddenly heard Mulder’s voice and she smiled. She then stood outside the nursery door and leaned against the wall, listening to Mulder sing the chorus to the Guns N’ Roses song “Don’t Cry.” Scully lifted her hand to cover her mouth, chuckling under her breath. William still cried, vocalizing his disapproval of the cold, wet baby wipe on his skin, but Mulder still sang.

Soon the sound of a clean diaper could be heard, William stopped crying, and Mulder hummed as he dressed the baby. He walked out of the nursery and then jumped to see Scully standing there. She immediately started giggling.

“How long have you been there?” he asked, knitting his brows suspiciously.

“Long enough,” she replied, smirking.

Scully then reached for William, dressed in yellow and white striped footed pajamas with a cartoon tiger embroidered on the chest, and took him into her arms, kissing him on the cheek. Mulder smiled and followed them into the living room. Grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch, Scully then laid the baby down on the cushion and swaddled him, before picking him up and sitting down next to Mulder. After nursing William for the next 30 minutes, he was soon fast asleep.

Later, just as _NYPD Blue_ was about to start, there was a knock at the front door. Mulder and Scully exchanged a surprised look, and then he got up off the couch and walked towards the door. He looked through the peephole and turned back to look at Scully.

“It’s Kersh,” he said in a low voice, staring at her.

“What?” she replied, in a shocked tone, standing up from the couch with a sleeping William in her arms.

Mulder determinedly walked away from the door and through the kitchen to Scully’s bedroom, grabbing her gun from its holster and walking back just as a knock was heard a second time. After taking a deep breath, he unlocked the door and unlatched the chain, and taking the safety off the gun, slowly opened the door to see Deputy Director Kersh standing there in a gray trench coat over his suit. Mulder stared at him, not quite knowing what to say.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry to stop by so late, and I know you weren’t expecting me,” Kersh said, apparently leaving his usual no nonsense tone back at the office. “But I need to speak with you. It’s important.”

Mulder nodded and stepped aside, allowing the Deputy Director to come in. He then shut and locked the door. Kersh stopped once inside and stared into the living room.

“Agent Scully,” he said, nodding, and her eyes darted back and forth from him to Mulder. “I apologize for barging in here, especially this time of night. But it was important that I come here to see you.”

“What is it, sir?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

Kersh stared at the baby she held, briefly pausing, and Scully instantly felt a sense of anxiety knot the pit of her stomach. “I've been made aware of a plan involving Mulder. A fatal plan to remove an apparent threat he poses. A plan that I’m afraid can’t be stopped, not by me or anyone else.”

Scully and Mulder stood silently staring at the Deputy Director, before turning to look at each other. “What do you mean, sir?” she asked. “Are you saying Mulder’s life is in danger?”

“A threat?” asked Mulder in disbelief. “What kind of threat? I don’t work the X-Files anymore. I’m not even a government employee.”

“This isn’t about the X-Files,” Kersh said.

Mulder sighed and crossed his arms. “Then what is this about?”

The Deputy Director then glanced uneasily again at the baby, and Scully felt her stomach tighten further as she protectively held William closer to her. “I don’t really know the exact reasons behind it. I wish I did.”

Scoffing, Mulder shook his head. “Why should I believe anything you have to say?”

“Would you believe me if I told you that I was risking my own life by coming here to warn you?” asked Kersh.

Scully threw Mulder a worried look, but he averted his eyes. A sense of dread was starting to fill him, and something in the back of his mind was telling him that a scenario like this had somehow been expected all along. But he was trying damn hard to ignore it. “You still haven’t said anything to make this supposed plot at all believable. Why should the government even give a rat’s ass about me anymore? I’m out of the FBI’s hair.”

“This has nothing to do with the FBI,” Kersh said, becoming stern. “Listen to what I am telling you. They are going to kill you. You need to get out of Washington. You should probably leave the country, if you know what’s good for you. If you stay, it’s only a matter of time before you end up dead. A very small window of time, I’m sure. There is no preventing it.”

“I’m not leaving Scully,” said Mulder adamantly. “I’m not leaving my son.” He then turned to exit the living room, saying “I’m sure you can see yourself out” as he walked away from Kersh into the kitchen. He stood at the far counter, his back to Scully and the Deputy Director, his guts churning and his mind racing.

Kersh sighed and then walked back towards the front door, Scully following him. He opened the door and stepped out to the hallway. “Is Mulder truly in danger?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

He turned to look at her and spoke just above a whisper. “Yes. If he stays.”

She shook her head, sighing. “Maybe I can talk him into going if we all go together. Then he won’t…” But she stopped as she took in the expression on Kersh’s face.

“When I said ‘if he stays,’” the Deputy Director said, before pausing. “I meant if he stays with you.”

“What?” she replied, her eyes widening. “Why?”

Kersh only shook his head. “I wish I had the answers. I don’t. I don’t understand the agenda behind this. But please believe me when I tell you the threat is real. They _will_ kill him.”

Scully’s brows furrowed, anxiety etching across her features. “Does this have something to do with my baby? Is my baby in danger?”

He shook his head. “No, you and your son aren’t in any danger.”

“But Mulder will be okay, they’ll… they’ll leave him alone… if he leaves?” she asked.

“I can’t promise you that,” Kersh replied. “But I think his chances for survival are a lot higher if he gets as far away from you as possible.” With one last prolonged stare at the baby in her arms, he left, heading towards the stairs at the end of the hallway.

*****

Scully closed and locked the door, before walking with William into the kitchen. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her palms sweated. Her stomach was in knots. “Mulder…”

“Don’t,” he said, turning around. “Don’t believe a word he says.”

“Why would he lie?” she asked, sighing.

Mulder crossed his arms, shaking his head. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not gonna let them run me out.”

As much as his stubbornness was something to respect and admire, this was not one of those times. “But if it’s these alien replicants we’re dealing with… Mulder, it’s impossible to stop them. Billy Miles was ran over by a car, pulverized in a garbage truck, and shot in the chest with a rifle. None of those things prevented him from coming back, good as new. What’s to stop them from coming here? What’s to stop them from killing you? And if these replicants are in the FBI…”

“Scully, please don’t tell me to go,” he said, his tone earnest and pleading.

“Mulder… Mulder, listen to me,” she replied, and then watched him turn and walk away from her. She followed him out of the kitchen and into the hallway. “Mulder, please just listen to me for a minute.”

He abruptly turned, shaking his head. “No. No. Not if you’re gonna tell me to leave. You can’t do that. You can’t tell me to leave you. To leave William.”

She looked down at her sleeping son, and knew they had come close to being all alone before. “Mulder, when you… were abducted, I couldn’t give up. I kept hoping and praying that I would find you again, that I’d be able to bring you home. But… when they found you in those woods…” She fought the sudden lump growing in her throat, and was desperately trying to force herself not to cry. “Mulder, I wanted to die. I wanted to lie down and be buried with you.”

“Scully,” he breathed, his head dropping, and closed his eyes.

“The fact that you survived and did come back to me, that’s just as much a miracle as our son,” she continued. “I can’t lose you. But I’d rather face a temporary separation until the danger has passed than watch you die.” She then raised her voice, becoming forceful. “I can’t go through that again. I can’t let you stay if that means you’ll be killed! Mulder, I can’t! I won’t! You have to leave.”

William startled awake at the sound of Scully’s loud voice and started to cry. She lifted the baby up to rest him against her shoulder and started rubbing his back in circles to soothe him.

“How could I abandon you just to save my own skin?” asked Mulder incredulously. “And leave you and the kid to deal with God knows what? Billy Miles could come back. Or… or that Knowle Rohrer. Or others that we know nothing about. You can’t seriously expect me to do that, Scully! Don’t ask that of me! I won’t do it!” He had a beautiful woman and a beautiful son, he had a home and a family, and no goddamned death threat was going to take that away from him. He'd simply persevere, and these shadowy threats would no doubt prove fruitless. He certainly wasn't going to just run off, leaving Scully and their son at risk, without his protection.

She was about to tell Mulder that according to Kersh her and William weren’t in any peril, but stopped herself. Scully then swallowed hard, bracing herself to say the one and only thing that would ever convince him to walk out the door and leave them behind. “If you stay… you’ll be putting me and William in danger.”

Mulder’s eyes widened and his mouth slightly fell open. “Did… did Kersh tell you that?” he asked in a low voice.

She averted her eyes, and said nothing.

He wanted to shout and scream. He wanted to break something. He clenched his jaw, his expression hardening. He then turned around and walked into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him, causing Scully to flinch as she continued her attempts to soothe her crying son. Mulder sat on the edge of the bed, clenching his fists and breathing heavily. The whole idea of leaving Scully and their son tore at his insides. How could he live without them? Where would he go? What would he do?

After several minutes, the bedroom door opened and Scully stepped inside the room. Mulder turned to watch her lay a once-again sleeping William in the wicker bassinet at her bedside. He silently stood up and started undressing, before pulling on a clean pair of black boxer briefs, gray flannel pajama bottoms, and white undershirt. As he turned back around, he saw Scully had laid down on her side, putting her back to him. Mulder sighed. _Great_ , he thought.

He got into bed, laying on his back and staring silently up at the ceiling. Some time passed, but it was obvious that William was the only person in the room asleep. Mulder then rolled over until he was right behind Scully, molding himself to her form. He wrapped his left arm around her, bringing his hand up the mattress until she grasped it with her own. He leaned forward against the back of her head, breathing in her scent and running his fingers through her red hair. The room was quiet, an infant's breathing and the occasional muffled city sounds outside the bedroom window the only things that could be heard.

“Mulder, do you smell something?” asked Scully, sometime later.

“It wasn’t me,” he quickly replied.

She let out a short breathy laugh, and then sighed. “It’s William.”

He then extricated himself from the bed with a groan and walked over to Scully’s side, lifting his son and carrying him out of the bedroom and down to the nursery. Mulder soon returned with a clean-smelling baby, and after setting him back down in the bassinet, returned to bed, once again lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. The room was silent again for some minutes.

"I can't believe William is a week old already," whispered Scully, looking down at her son in the bassinet.

"Correction," Mulder said. "Eight days."

She snorted, nodding her head. "Do you think he's starting to look more like you? Or me?"

He grinned. "I still say he looks exactly like Skinner. Most babies are like Skinner, so William's no exception. He's bald, myopic, and sometimes cranky."

Scully giggled quietly, before pausing. “What do you like most about him?”

“He’s got your big, blue eyes,” Mulder replied.

She smiled. “Well, he’s got your long fingers and feet.”

He nodded, smiling. “Yep, those are definitely mine.”

“Who do you think he’ll take after more, when he gets older?” she whispered.

“As far as personality and temperament goes, I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” he replied. “But right now he is pretty moody and demands a lot of attention. So…”

Scully grinned. “Just like his dad.”

Mulder poked her. “I was talking about you!”

“Oh, yeah, right,” she said. “That’s rich coming from Mr. ‘I wake up in a bad mood and it just goes downhill from there.’”

“You’re one to talk,” he replied. “I can’t imagine you ever winning a Miss Congeniality award.”

She started giggling, and he smiled. Mulder then rolled over, scooting closer to her, and whispered in her ear. “You sure could win the bathing suit competition, though.”

Scully rolled her eyes and smirked. “Well, sign me up for the next pageant in town.”

He snorted, and then rolled onto his back, sighing, and felt his heart sinking. “Scully... I don’t want to leave.”

“I know, Mulder,” she whispered, fighting back the tears suddenly threatening to make an appearance.

*****

Eventually, Scully was able to fall asleep. Several times during the night she awoke to William’s cries, only to be assured by a whispering Mulder that he would take care of it, and she would soon drift back to sleep. But before the sun had even begun to rise on Wednesday morning, she was awakened by an urgent voice.

“Scully, wake up! You gotta get dressed.”

“What, Mulder? What is it?” She started blinking herself fully awake, and looked up at her partner standing at her bedside.

He pulled the bed covers back, and rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m about to call the Gunmen. I’ll explain everything. Just get dressed.”

She sighed, and watched him walk quickly out of the bedroom. Mulder hadn’t slept at all, lying awake all night long, his brain unable to shut off. His family was threatened, by powerful forces whose insidious plans had yet to become clear. All he knew was that these alien replicants, or government Super Soldiers, if that was what they were, wanted him and Scully separated.

Mulder didn’t know why. He only suspected these forces were furthering their goal of invasion, and colonization. Perhaps they believed that he and Scully were a threat to that process, regardless of the fact their ties to the X-Files had been cut and another agent was running the show down in the FBI’s basement. They at least believed he was a threat, a dangerous enough one to warrant death, and almost as if how things had always been, Scully was only a target by her association with him. If the only way to protect her and their son was his absence, then he knew what had to be done.

After briefly checking on a sleeping William in the bassinet, which he’d carried out to the living room earlier, Mulder grabbed the cordless phone. As he went to dial, he paused and stared down at the phone in his hand. He quickly separated the case into its two halves, but there was nothing to worry about. Neither the key pad nor hand set circuit boards contained anything suspicious. Mulder breathed a sigh of relief, and then dialed the Lone Gunmen’s number.

“Who is calling at this ungodly hour?” grumbled the voice on the other end.

“It’s me, Frohike. Wake up Langly and Byers, and come over to Scully’s. As quickly as possible.”

Whispering and muffled sounds could be heard before Frohike replied. “What’s going on?”

Mulder sighed. “Just get over here. Oh, and bring the black box. It’s go time.”

“You mean… Operation Fox Run?” Frohike asked, his voice full of shock.

“For real?” spoke the surprised voice of Langly, who’d suddenly come on the line.

Mulder couldn’t help rolling his eyes at the name the Gunmen had given this plan all those many years ago, but he didn’t dwell on the slight annoyance. “Yes. For real. You need to get over here with the black box.”

More hurried whispering was heard, and then Byers spoke. “But, Mulder, we already gave the box to Agent Scully. After, you know… you died.”

“She has it?” he asked. She’d never mentioned it to him in all the time he’d been staying with her, nor had he laid eyes on the box himself. “Okay, well, then just get over here. As soon as possible.” Mulder then hung up the phone, and turned to see Scully walking into the living room, dressed in a beige top with a black cardigan over it, black dress pants, and carrying a pair of black leather ankle boots she’d gotten from her closet.

“So are you going to tell me what’s going on, Mulder?” she asked as she sat down on the couch and started putting on her boots.

He sat down next to her. “I need you to go into headquarters this morning.”

Scully looked up at him in surprise. “Headquarters? For what?”

“You need to go into the office and remove some of our case files,” he replied. “You need to take them out of the office and bring them here.”

“Mulder…,” she said, pausing briefly. “Technically the X-Files cases are property of the Bureau. We’re not allowed to just remove them.”

He sighed. “Scully, that’s _our_ work. Years of our work, our sacrifice. And those files aren’t safe there.”

She licked her lips and looked down at her lap, before looking back up at him. “Which files do you want brought here?”

“Everything on the government conspiracy,” replied Mulder. “All our cases involving the clones and hybrids, plans for colonization, the black virus, Cassandra Spender, Gibson Praise, my abduction, Billy Miles. All of it. Those files need to be taken out of headquarters for safe-keeping.”

Scully stared at him a moment, before glancing over at their son sleeping in his bassinet. “I don’t want to leave the baby, Mulder.”

He reached out and placed a reassuring hand on her back. “I know. But you won’t be gone that long, Scully. And this is important. But it’s not like I can just go down there and walk into the basement office. You’re the only one who can do it.”

She then nodded her agreement to Mulder’s request. “All right.”

Just after 7:00 am, the Lone Gunmen arrived at the apartment, and Mulder let them inside. They greeted Scully as they walked into the living room, and the air became thick with tension.

“The Gunmen said that they gave you a box some months ago,” Mulder said to his partner. “It’s a large safe deposit box.”

“Yes,” Scully replied, remembering that day shortly after the graveside service in North Carolina.

He stared at her. “Where is it?”

She glanced between Mulder and the Lone Gunmen’s expectant faces. “It’s on the top shelf in my closet. Why? What’s in it?”

“You never opened it?” asked Mulder, a surprised expression on his face.

“No, I didn’t,” she answered. “I… guess I didn’t want to deal with it. I… I didn’t want to open it.”

He nodded and then quickly walked out of the living room, Scully following him into the hallway, and after entering her bedroom, Mulder reached for the large metal box from the closet. He set it down on the bed and removed the lid. Scully stepped closer and stared down inside, her eyes widening in shock as he removed two 9mm handguns and a box of ammo, setting them down on the bed. The weapons had been lying next to a neat pile of cash, 100 dollar bills wrapped with a currency band indicating bundles of $10,000.

“Mulder, how much money is in there?” she asked, turning her wide-eyed expression on him.

“About two million dollars,” he replied, reaching for the stack of passports that had been underneath the guns.

Scully’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “How… how do you have two million dollars? And… what’s with the passports? What… Mulder, what is this?”

He turned a slight grin on her. “Well, I didn’t rob a bank, Scully. It’s from the sale of my parents’ homes on the Vineyard, in Quonochontaug.” Mulder then opened a navy blue Canadian passport, but after looking at the photo, set it aside. “Nope, that’s yours.”

“What?” she said, grabbing the passport. With a shock, she saw her photo inside along with the name Katherine Smith. “Mulder, what the hell is this?”

“About eight years ago, I set up a contingency plan with the Gunmen,” he replied. “In case for any reason I had to go off the grid. There are several passports here for both you and myself, courtesy of the Gunmen’s handy work. Over the years, you also became part of that plan, but I just never mentioned it. I… I didn’t want to frighten you, even though I suspected that one day this might have to happen. But the thought of running off without you… I never allowed myself to consider that possibility. The plan had always been for the both of us.”

She then flipped through four other passports containing her picture and a fake name, two US, one UK, and one burgundy red German passport with the name Katrina Schubert. The passports all had various stamps, as if they’d actually been used over the years. She looked at Mulder, feeling astounded, as he rummaged through the other contents of the box: a silver multi-tool pocket knife, storage locker keys, lock-picking kit, domestic and international driver’s licenses that matched the names in the passports, phone cards, a few Uni-ball pens, two contact lens cases with packs of colored contacts, three USB flash drives, several credit cards including an American Express Black Card.

“Oh, my God,” Scully breathed.

“Everything’s here,” said Mulder. “I can’t think of anything else I could possibly need. I’m sure the Gunmen could come up with some ideas, though, if necessary.” He turned to look at his partner. “Scully, the chest where you found my dad’s old lighter, you still have it, right? Did you take anything else out?”

She shook her head. “No, everything’s there as you left it. It's in the closet.”

He stepped over to grab the rectangular wooden chest from the far left corner of the top shelf, bringing it over to the bed. Inside was the familiar magic puppet, photographs, ticket stubs. After grabbing a set of keys, he shoved them in his pocket and turned to Scully. “You’ve gotta get down to headquarters and get those files,” he told her.

She sighed, and walked out of the bedroom, joining the Gunmen in the living room. Mulder followed her, and after he instructed Frohike and Langly to drive Scully to the Hoover Building, the three soon left. A couple minutes later, William awoke and the sounds of a wailing baby filled the room. Mulder lifted his son from the bassinet, cradling him in his arms.

“Is he all right?” Byers asked hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Mulder replied, smiling. “He’s just hungry.”

He walked into the kitchen with his forefinger gently placed at the roof of his son’s mouth, Byers following them. Mulder then instructed him to grab one of the baby bottles from the refrigerator door, and warm it up. Soon, William was feeding on the warmed breast milk.

“So when are you planning on leaving, Mulder?” asked Byers. “It’s gonna take a day or two to produce passports and other documents for William.”

He looked up at his friend, his face falling. “He’s not going anywhere. Scully and the baby are staying here. I need to leave by tonight.”

Byers’ eyes widened. “But… Mulder…”

“I can’t really explain,” he replied. “I only know that we’re in danger if we stay together, and I can only hope that I learn the truth behind it. So that the threat can be removed. So that…” He sighed, and looked back down at his son, who was contentedly feeding on the bottle. “I’ll be able to come home safely. Byers, I want you to make those documents for William, anyways.”

He nodded. “Of course, Mulder.”

At 8:17 am, Scully, Frohike and Langly walked back inside the apartment, Scully carrying a cardboard storage box of X-Files case reports. After silently handing Mulder the box, she walked over to the bassinet and picked up her son, carrying him into the bedroom and shutting the door behind her. Mulder sighed as he’d stared after her. He then handed the Gunmen the set of keys from his pocket, instructing them to get things ready and to be back at the apartment at 5:00 pm, before closing the door on their departing backs.

*****

At 4:00 pm, Mulder walked into the bathroom, leaving the door to the bedroom open. It was the golden hour, and the sky began to darken with shades of orange, pink, and purple among the streaks of clouds. Scully laid on the bed, gazing out the window and listening to him undressing in the bathroom. Soon the sound of splashing water on tile could be heard, and Mulder stepped into the shower.

Then William started to cry loudly, and Scully turned and rolled out of bed, getting to her feet and walking over to the bathroom door, closing it so the baby’s cries wouldn’t disturb Mulder. She then went over to the new bassinet on wheels, complete with lace skirt, that had arrived in the mail that morning as a gift from Tara and Bill Jr. Once Mulder had finished packing up his clothes as well as some of the X-Files reports and a few books, he put the bassinet together for Scully. It had proved as another painful reminder that he wasn’t going to be around to help her, and even the fact this bassinet had wheels so she could more easily take the baby from room to room with her seemed like a stab in the gut.

Scully picked William up and lifted him to rest against her shoulder, and patted his back to calm him. “It's going to be okay,” she whispered, but she wasn’t sure whether she was talking to her son or to herself. The baby’s cries ceased as she walked with him into the living room, still patting his back, where she stared down at the fully packed black suitcases on the floor by the couch.

A lump grew in her throat and hot tears pricked her eyes, which Scully blinked back furiously. She hadn’t cried at all since Kersh had left the apartment the night before, and she was determined not to. If she broke down and cried, she didn’t think Mulder would be able keep his resolve to go. She had to be strong. Scully wanted to view this as only a temporary situation, fervently hoping that their separation wouldn’t be for long, that they’d find some way to be safe and together.

Goodness would always prevail over evil, at least that was what she’d been taught as a child. She felt she still believed it to be true, and those who sacrifice were rewarded with happiness and blessings. But what was happening to their happiness? Hadn’t they sacrificed enough? When would the evil and the darkness leave them alone? Would there ever come a time when they would be free?

She sat down on the couch, feeling anxious, and unbuttoned her pajama top to nurse her son. Scully fought hard to control her emotions as her very life seemed to be spiraling out her control. But when had her life been in her own control? She wondered if she’d given up a certain amount of that control the moment she set foot in Mulder’s basement office for the first time. She’d decided to help him find the truth, to stand by his side. And perhaps in the moment when her loyalties to him firmly established themselves, she’d almost willingly given up the sole right to control her life. But then so had Mulder. Their lives had become so deeply entwined that it was impossible to know where his ended and hers began. They were one heart, one mind, one soul.

Mulder had heard William’s sharp cries, and then the loudness faded, causing him to guess that Scully had closed the door or taken the baby out of the bedroom. He stood with closed eyes bracing his hands on the cold tile, hot water streaming over his head and shoulders. His chest was hurting, his stomach was in a tight knot. His heart was breaking into a million pieces. How could he do this? How could he walk out the door, not knowing when or if he’d come back? How could he do that to his son? How could he do that to Scully? But hadn’t he suspected that dangers existed? Hadn’t he somehow feared the possible consequences his child faced by their connection? Hadn’t he wanted his own name kept off William’s birth certificate?

He felt that the hot water was the only thing grounding him to reality at the moment. Mulder had always thought of himself as able to cope with anything, and after surviving that horrendous abduction experience, he’d felt stronger and more capable than ever. But Kersh’s words had pounded in his head, and he now wondered just how strong, how capable he really was. Scully’s pale and frightened face swam in front of his eyes, her voice telling him he had to leave echoed in his mind.

Earlier that afternoon, they had sat at the dining table. While holding William the entire time, he ate a quiet lunch with Scully. They were each lost in their own thoughts, unable to voice the countless things they wished they could say to one another. Why was fate always so cruel? Was this really how their lives were meant to end up? Mercilessly separated from each other? As the hot water continued streaming down his face, tears pricked his eyes and he choked back a sob as he bitterly realized that yet another family was going to be torn apart because of the actions of a father named Mulder.

Fighting to pull himself together, swallowing the lump in his throat, he reached out and turned off the water. Mulder then stepped out of the shower and grabbed the large red bath towel from the rack on the wall. Once he’d sufficiently dried off, he walked into the bedroom and dressed in the clothes Scully had laid out on the bed. He smiled sadly at another example of all the little things she did for him. He dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, before pulling a charcoal gray sweater over his short-sleeved white undershirt.

Mulder sat on the edge of the bed to tie his sneakers, but when finished was unable to move his feet out the door, not wanting to go out there and face what was happening. The bedroom was quiet. The bed was empty. The bassinet was empty. He felt lost. His heart ached for something that apparently he’d only dreamed about, something that could never truly be his. Mulder had held comfort, safety, and happiness in his grasp, but it wasn’t going to last. Why had he expected anything different? Everything he loved was always taken from him. But why did he have to lose out this time? Just for once, why couldn’t he have what he so desperately wanted and needed?

At 4:56 pm, there was a knock on the door and Scully let the Lone Gunmen inside the apartment. She looked them over, dressed head to toe in black, as if they were about to embark on another one of their wild reconnaissance missions. Maybe they were. She didn’t know. She didn’t really want to know either. Mulder walked out of the bedroom and greeted the Gunmen. As his three friends each picked up a piece of luggage, leaving nothing remaining for Mulder himself to carry down, he told them he’d meet them outside at their van. After glancing between Mulder and Scully, they nodded and walked back out to the hallway.

Mulder turned to look at Scully, holding a quiet but awake and alert William in her arms. “Did he eat?”

“Yeah, I just fed him,” she replied, her voice just above a whisper.

“Let me put him down,” he said, and reached for the baby in her arms.

She relinquished their son, and Mulder carried him back to the bedroom, shutting the door quietly, and then sat on the bed with the baby cradled in his arm. He looked down at his son, whose blue eyes were wide and staring up at him. He smiled and brought his right forefinger to William’s hand, who quickly gripped it tight in his small fist.

Mulder understood the fragile dynamic of fathers and sons. He knew firsthand what it was like to harbor regrets and anger over the choices made by his father, the man who’d raised him. He knew what it was to feel nothing but hatred for an absent biological father whom he’d never even known existed. These two men, these two fathers, had made decisions that were still impacting Mulder’s life now. And as he gazed down into the innocent face of his own son, with a pang of regret he knew just how severely the actions of one generation could adversely affect the next.

William was still staring up into the face of his father, squeezing his finger, and in hushed, soft tones, Mulder began speaking to his son.

“I… I don’t even know what to say. I only have a couple minutes to tell you what I should’ve had a lifetime to tell you.” He sighed. “You really are a miracle. I know later on you’ll ask how and why, but I don’t have the answer. I don’t know if anyone does. But that doesn’t mean you’ll have any reason to doubt who or what you are. Maybe I can find some answers for you while I’m gone. If my being gone makes the world a safer place for you… then maybe it’ll be worth it.”

Mulder swallowed against the lump now growing in his throat. “Take care of your mom for me. I know she’s tough, and her rigid practicality works well at hiding her feelings. But she can’t be tough all the time, and she feels things deeply, even if she doesn’t show it. So look out for her, and make sure no other men come sniffing around while I’m gone. Not even Uncle Walter or that Doggett. I’m hoping I won’t be gone too long, so please don’t grow up too quickly. I don’t wanna miss out on too much. I’ve got lots of stories to tell you. You won’t believe the crazy stuff your old man has gotten himself into. I’m sure your mom could tell you those stories, though, if… if I’m not able to.”

Tears pricked his eyes, and his voice became choked. “If for… for some reason I don’t come back, if… for some reason this is the last time…” He swallowed, looking into his son’s beautiful face. “Don’t ever think that you are to blame, that this was your fault. Nothing could be further from the truth. And don’t ever think that… that I don’t love you.”

The baby’s grip on his father’s finger loosened, and he started yawning. Mulder smiled and stood up from the bed, lifting his son up to his shoulder. “Please don’t hate me,” he whispered, his lips softly brushing against William’s face. He then laid his son down in the wicker bassinet on Scully’s bedside, and watched his eyes close. He couldn’t help but smile at the sounds of William’s snoring.

Mulder then turned to stare at the bedroom door. That goodbye had been hard enough, but he had no idea how he was ever going to say goodbye to the woman on the other side of that door. It felt impossible. He couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her, of being without her for a day. His heart couldn’t take it. Mulder slowly walked towards the door, and opening it, he stepped out into the hallway and made his way into the living room, where Scully stood looking out the bay window down at the Lone Gunmen’s Volkswagen van parked on the curb.

A heavy silence filled the room as their eyes met. Were they doing the right thing? Was this threat real? Or was it merely a ploy to get at their son? To send Mulder away and leave William vulnerable? Or was Mulder truly the only target? And why? Why was this happening? How long would they have to suffer at the hands of an unseen enemy? How long would their son have to suffer?

Who was going to speak first?

Scully stood facing Mulder stoically, fighting hard to bury the tumult of emotions raging on the inside. “The Gunmen are waiting.”

“They can wait a little longer,” he retorted.

Mulder could see she didn’t want an emotional goodbye, so he sighed and started walking towards the front door. Scully followed him and silently watched him open the door, and then he turned back to look at her.

“Promise me you’ll write as often as you can,” Scully said. “Even if it’s a blank message, just so I know you’re… out there. So I know you’re alive.”

“I know the Gunmen have set up a secure email account, but I don’t know how safe…” he replied.

She shook her head emphatically. “Promise me. Please.”

He sighed and stepped closer to her, placing his hands on her shoulders reassuringly. “I’ll try to write as much as I can. But you’ve got to write, too. Constantly. Tell me everything you’re doing. Everything about William.” He then paused, giving her a slight grin. “You’re my touchstone, remember?”

Scully smiled sadly, and felt that Mulder needed to leave right away. She couldn’t hold it together much longer.

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” he whispered.

She nodded. “How about… see you later?”

He snorted. “Yeah. See you later.”

Mulder then wrapped her in a hug, and kissed her forehead. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“I know,” she said, nodding her head again.

“I will come home,” he whispered, hoping he sounded confident. “I promise.”

Scully paused briefly, wondering if that really was a promise he could keep, before whispering her reply. “I know.”

He kissed her forehead again and let her go, turning to step across the threshold and into the hallway. “See you later.”

She sighed. “See you later.”

Mulder began walking down the hall and Scully started to slowly shut the door. But then he spun around and walked back, throwing out his arm against the door before it had closed. She stepped back and he moved to stand in the doorway. As Mulder and Scully looked at each other, eyes glassy with unshed tears, they were both hit with the full effect of the decision that they had made.

His face crumpled and he quickly covered the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her towards him. Her arms went up around his back as his arms held her tight against him. They could no longer fight their emotions, the heavy burden weighing down their hearts, and Scully sobbed into Mulder’s chest as she felt his warm tears fall on her neck. They cried for themselves, they cried for each other, they cried for their son.

“I can’t be without you, Mulder,” she choked.

He pulled back, bringing his hands up to gently hold her face. “This is not forever, Scully. I am going to come home. I am going to find a way. I have to.”

Still holding Scully’s face, Mulder captured her lips with his, kissing her passionately as tears rolled down their cheeks. Their hearts pounded as they held each other. Their love and commitment was set in stone, and were by their very nature sacred and unbreakable. Standing there, knowing that every kiss was now leading to the inevitable goodbye, they tried to savor the passion that existed between them, not knowing when they would be able to see each other again.

Mulder finally broke the kiss, and leaned his forehead against Scully’s.

“I love you,” he said, breathing heavily.

She brought her hands up to his face, sliding her thumbs down to caress his lips. “I love you.”

With that, Mulder pulled away and abruptly turned around. If he stayed a moment longer, he’d never be able to leave. He walked back to the hallway outside and Scully closed the door, before locking both the dead bolt and the chain.


	103. “I've been looking for Mulder. Where'd he go?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder begins his life on the run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kings of Leon - "Closer"
> 
> Stranded in this spooky town  
> Stoplights are swaying and the phone lines are down  
> Snow is crackling cold  
> She took my heart, I think she took my soul  
> With the moon I run  
> Far from the carnage of the fiery sun
> 
> Driven by the strangle of vein  
> Showin' no mercy, I'd do it again  
> Open up your eyes  
> You keep on crying, baby I'll bleed you dry  
> Skies are blinking at me  
> I see a storm bubbling up from the sea
> 
> And it's coming closer  
> And it's coming closer
> 
> You shimmy-shook my boat  
> Leavin' me stranded all in love on my own  
> Do you think of me  
> Where am I now, baby where do I sleep  
> Feels so good but I'm old  
> Two thousand years of chasing takin' its toll
> 
> And it's coming closer  
> And it's coming closer  
> And it's coming closer  
> And it's coming closer

As the Lone Gunmen’s Volkswagen van drove out of Georgetown on Wednesday, January 10th, and onto The Francis Scott Key Bridge, passing over the Potomac River and crossing into Virginia, the only sound that could be heard inside the vehicle were the choked cries of a man who had no idea if he would ever see his son or the boy’s mother again. The Gunmen exchanged sad looks and shot worried glances at their friend, but they remained silent. They didn’t understand why Mulder would leave Scully and the baby behind, but they knew he would never do such a thing unless absolutely necessary. An hour later, as Langly merged onto highway US-29 South, the van was quiet, the entire drive proving somber and muted.

Just over one week into January, and the winter landscape of rural Virginia was almost drained of color. The gray woodlands stood dull, the grass was a burnished yellow. All seemed lifeless. Besides the other countless vehicles traveling on the highway, not a flicker of movement in the land around them was beheld. Nature had cowered down, hiding from the cold. As Mulder stared out the window, he almost felt as if the landscape was holding up a mirror to his despair.

Two hours and 20 minutes after departing Scully’s apartment, the Volkswagen van arrived in Charlottesville, Virginia and not long after was driving through the gate of Albemarle Winter Mini Storage. The storage units all had bright cherry red doors with large black numerals painted on the upper right corners, the units separated into rows of even and odd numbers. The four rows of 10’ x 20’ parking units were in the back of the property, and after pulling up next to unit number 61, Langly put the van into park and turned off the engine.

The van’s rear door opened, and Mulder stepped out onto the pavement. He immediately shivered, the chilly night air a stark contrast from the warmth of the Gunmen’s van. The winter air seemed as if hushed into silence, a dead and heavy weight around him. Langly, Frohike, and Byers also exited the van and stood silently, waiting for their friend to speak the first words he would utter since he’d jumped into the van two and a half hours ago. He had frantically shouted “Drive! Drive!” almost as though if the van didn’t start moving immediately, he’d change his mind and walk back inside the apartment building.

“You got those keys?” Mulder asked while staring at the red door, his breath evaporating before his eyes.

“Right here,” replied Frohike, pulling them from his pocket and handing them over to his friend.

He looked over the set of keys in the palm of his hand, fingering the keychain for a moment, before approaching the cherry red door and unlocking it. The Gunmen busied themselves with removing the black suitcases and duffel bag from the back of their van. Lifting the storage unit door, rattling upwards loudly, Mulder stared inside as cool air wafted toward him from the dark interior. The florescent glow of the outside lighting illuminated something large and familiar inside the unit.

“Did everything check out all right?” asked Mulder.

The Gunmen stared at his back, before their gaze moved past him and into the storage space. “Um, we had to restart the battery,” Langly answered. “We also replaced the spark plugs and gas filters, fuel lines, the hoses, and belt. It was obvious that it’d been just sitting here for a long time. We didn’t know when you'd last come here to check on the car and start the engine.”

He sighed. “A couple years ago, I guess.”

“We got you a new set of tires,” said Byers. “And we refilled all the fluids.”

“The cylinders have been soaking with oil for over eight hours now,” added Frohike. “So it should be good to go.”

Mulder nodded and stepped inside the storage unit, walking around the driver’s side of the blue 1977 Chevy Camaro with the double white stripes over the trunk and hood that his father had bought him for his 16th birthday. Unlocking the door, he got down into the dark leather seat. He loved this car. He remembered hot summers on the Vineyard. He remembered picking up his high school prom date, Christine. He remembered the five hour drive from his mother’s house in Connecticut to Quantico, Virginia to attend the FBI Academy. He remembered that Diana had hated the car, wanted him to get rid of it, to grow up and drive a sensible sedan instead, like adults were supposed to. Eventually he gave in to her insistence, but unable to give the car up completely, parked it at the Lone Gunmen’s place. In time, the car became a significant part of the contingency plan, and it was moved down to this storage facility in Charlottesville.

Inserting the key into the ignition, Mulder tapped the engine over very slowly, allowing the oil to get into the top half of the motor without damaging any of the bearings. After a minute or so, he turned the engine over completely and it came to life without any hiccups. Putting it into reverse, Mulder backed the car out of the storage unit, before shifting into park and popping the trunk.

The Gunmen started placing the suitcases inside the open trunk, and Mulder walked around to the rear of the car, grabbing the duffel bag and carrying it over to the passenger seat. Simultaneously, the trunk and passenger side door closed, and Mulder stood there facing his three friends, not knowing if he would ever see them again. He walked towards where they stood at the back of the car, and then sighed.

“Do you know where you’re going?” asked Langly.

“No,” he replied, shoving his cold hands in his pockets. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

The Gunmen nodded sadly. “I suppose that would be for the best,” said Byers.

Mulder removed his left hand from its warm pocket, and glanced at his watch, noticing it was after 8:00 pm. “I need you guys to get back to Scully’s place. And park outside the apartment.”

Langly and Byers exchanged nervous looks. “Do you want us to contact you if something happens?” Frohike asked.

“No,” Mulder replied adamantly. “I’m sure the government would expect you to know where I am, and to contact me. It’s too dangerous for you, and for Scully. It’s best if I just disappear, and you all go about your lives as if that’s completely normal.” He sighed. “I can’t ever begin to thank you for everything you’ve done for me over the years, all the help you’ve given, but I need to know that none of you are putting your lives at risk for my sake. Don’t worry about me, or where I am, or what I’m doing. I just want you to look after Scully and my kid.”

Byers held out his hand, and smiled. “Till we meet again.” Giving a half smile in return, Mulder reached out to shake Byers’ extended palm. He also did likewise with Langly, who quickly averted his eyes and stared down at his shoes. But Frohike wasn’t going to accept a handshake, and instead pulled his towering friend into a tight embrace.

“I can tell how much you’ll miss me, Melvin, just by how hard you’re squeezing my ass,” Mulder quipped dryly.

Frohike stepped back out of the hug, and gave him an unamused look, causing Mulder to give him a slight smirk. He then turned and walked to the driver’s side door of the running car, opening it and getting inside. After a quick glance into the rear view mirror at his three friends, bundled in their winter coats, he drove out of Albemarle Winter Mini Storage and out of Charlottesville, heading west. He drove for the next 10 hours, only making brief pit stops once he’d left the state of Virginia. Just before the sun began to rise, he pulled off of highway I-40 and drove into Jackson, Tennessee, where he pulled into the parking lot of the Casey Jones Village Inn. Mulder rented a room, and carrying the black duffel bag in from the front seat of the Camaro, promptly crashed onto the old lumpy bed without bothering to undress.

*****

When Mulder awoke seven hours later, at just past 2:00 pm on Thursday, he jumped out of bed with a start and walked over to the window, drawing back the curtain. The Camaro was still parked in front, and nothing suspicious could be seen. The only change from earlier that morning was that there were now several inches of snow on the ground. He sighed, and started feeling the stirring of hunger pangs. Once Mulder showered and dressed into a fresh set of clothes, he walked out of the motel room after slipping on his black coat, 9mm handgun and its holster strapped underneath his shoulder.

Getting into the car, Mulder drove down the street to McDonald’s, and after quickly receiving his burger and Coke from the drive-thru, ate a solitary lunch back at the motel room. He then planted himself in a chair by the window, the curtains slightly open, keeping his eyes peeled on the parking lot. He recalled his time in Arcadia Falls, sitting all day long in front of the window, steadfastly watching the front of the house to see if his theory proved true. But Mulder fervently pushed the memory away, trying his damnedest not to think of things that were painful reminders of the woman he’d left behind, but it was no use.

Sitting in the chair, watching the parked Camaro through the gap in the drawn curtains, holding his gun in his lap, Mulder waited for the sun to set. It would be foolish to think he wouldn’t be pursued. It was only a matter of time before those who wanted him dead discovered he was no longer in Washington, DC. Would they take Scully? Attempt to force her into revealing his location? Hopefully that wouldn’t happen. Hopefully they’d correctly surmise that she had no idea where he was or where he was going. Hell, he didn’t even know where the fuck he was going.

Mulder was on his own, and knew he had to pursue the truth, to find some answer as to why this was happening to his family. But where to start? What would he do now? He considered driving south from Tennessee, and even though the thought of warmer weather was appealing, the idea of Georgia only reminded him of William’s birth. Billy Miles and the other alien replicants had converged on that small town in northern Georgia. Why? They hadn’t harmed Scully. They hadn’t laid a finger on William. But according to Agent Reyes, she had the feeling they needed to see for themselves that the baby was born, and that one of them had made a statement to the affect that the baby’s birth was something significant.

He thought he was starting to understand some things. If the alien replicants wanted William dead, they easily could’ve achieved it. It was now clear they wanted his son alive. It was also obvious they didn’t deem Scully a threat, or they would’ve taken the baby from her when they had the perfect opportunity, not to mention at any time since William’s birth they could’ve easily gotten Mulder and Scully out of the way. It was Mulder himself who was seen as the problem. The boy was fine with Scully, at least for right now, but for some reason they wanted him separated from his father. But not just separated, they wanted Mulder dead.

How easily would they be able to find him? And wasn’t it nearly impossible to even recognize an alien replicant if he saw one? Krycek also referred to them as ‘human replacements’ to aid the colonization of the planet. Other than happening to see if a person had some strange protuberance on their neck, it was impossible to tell these aliens apart from humans. In any place, at any moment, any person he came across could be one of them. The man working the desk in the motel office could be one, for all Mulder knew. But then again, he’d probably be dead right now if that were the case.

Getting up from the chair, Mulder walked over to the duffel bag and pulled out the case files he’d brought with him. He spent the next hour reading everything Scully and Agent Doggett had written in the reports detailing his abduction and the FBI’s search for him. It dawned on Mulder that William wasn’t the only child whom the aliens had taken a keen interest in.

After packing up his duffel bag and pulling on his winter coat, Mulder stepped out of the motel room and walked across the parking lot to the office, the snow compressing under his feet. He quickly checked out, paying cash, and an hour later was driving into the city of Memphis. Finding a payphone at a 7-Eleven, he dialed the number for _The Washington Post_ and was connected to the Classifieds desk.

“Hi, yeah, um, I’d like to place an ad in the Personals for tomorrow,” Mulder spoke into the receiver.

“Sure,” spoke the baritone male voice on the other end. “Three lines for three days will run you $24.99, three lines for seven days is $40.99, and three lines for 10 days will cost $64.99.”

Pulling out a MasterCard from his wallet, courtesy of the Lone Gunmen, and holding the phone with his shoulder, he replied. “Yeah. Three days is enough.”

The man cleared his throat. “Okay, sir, go ahead.”

“George E. Hale would like to speak with his elf at federal grounds on the day of Frigg, five to six in the post meridiem of the fourth dimension.” Mulder paused. “Uh, you got all that?”

A moment of silence on the other end, and then the baritone voice spoke. “Um… yeah. I’ll read it back to you.” After Mulder felt assured _The Post_ got his ad correct and that it would be inserted in the morning’s paper, he paid by credit card and hung up the payphone. Once he’d used the restroom inside the 7-Eleven and purchased a large coffee, he was back on the road, making his way onto highway I-40. Soon he was crossing state lines into Arkansas, and four hours later Mulder was driving across the Texas border just before 9:00 pm.

Two hours and 45 minutes after entering Texas, he drove through the city of Dallas, merging onto highway I-20, and then drove another five hours through the night. Two consecutive nights of solitary driving had given Mulder a small sense of release as he let his emotions spill out where no one could see him curse and scream and cry, raging bitterly against fate or whoever was responsible for allocating misery and hardship where it was least deserved.

At 5:15 am on Friday, January 12th, Mulder pulled into the parking lot of the Hawthorn Motel in the city of Midland and got a room. After closing the curtains to keep the room as dark as possible, despite the fact it was still almost two hours until sunrise, Mulder stripped out of his blue jeans and crawled into bed.

*****

Not long after the clock struck noon, Mulder slowly opened his eyes, blinking himself awake. For a few blissful moments, his mind was completely blank. But then everything flooded his brain, and his senses. A feeling of despair swept over him as he looked around the drab, impersonal motel room, reminding him of exactly where he was, and why. His gaze landed on the suitcases he’d dumped by the door earlier that morning. In nearly two days of running, he hadn’t bothered unpacking anything save his toothbrush and toothpaste along with a few clothes. He had no reason to unpack. He was just passing through. He’d be back on the road again that evening, but he wouldn’t be heading in the direction he most wanted to go.

Mulder wondered what time it was in Washington, and then with a sudden burst of encouragement, he remembered he’d be talking to Scully later. He at least fervently hoped he would be. She knew to check the Personals in case he needed to get a quick message out to her. They’d decided that she would never email him from her home computer or from any of the computers at Quantico when she returned to work.

He looked over at the digital clock on the bedside table, noting it was 12:13 pm, and knew that Washington would be an hour ahead. Getting up from the bed, Mulder decided on finding an internet café in town, wondering if he’d be able to. After pulling on some clothes, but forgoing the winter coat as the current Texas weather was 60o and mild, he slipped on his black leather jacket, covering the gun holster underneath his arm, and walked out the door.

Not far from the Hawthorn Motel was a circa-1950’s fast food place, Bob’s Burgers, a classic hole in the wall. Mulder drove the Camaro up to the window and ordered a double cheeseburger and onion rings. Once he’d given the cash over to the young blonde at the window, he decided she’d probably have the answer to his question.

“Do you happen to know if there are any internet cafés in town?” Mulder asked.

“Sure do,” she replied in her thick Texas twang accent, handing him his large iced tea. “Otherlands Cyber Café.”

He nodded, taking the drink. “And uh, how would I get there?”

She smirked, her eyes twinkling. “Yeah, I could tell you weren’t from around these parts. It’s on Thomason Drive. Take a right outta the parking lot and Thomason is the second street on the left. You can’t miss it.”

Mulder thanked her as she handed him his order, and then left the property. He quickly found the internet café, and sat in the parking lot eating his lunch. The place looked normal enough, and kind of quirky. The brick building was painted in some kind of jade green color, although he couldn’t be sure. The name ‘Otherlands’ was in large yellow letters trimmed in some shade of red or maybe dark orange, but Mulder couldn’t be positive. The front of the building had wall-to-wall windows, and they held signs promoting things like live music on Friday and Saturday nights, rotating art gallery exhibits, and an exotic gift shop.

Once he’d finished his burger and onion rings, Mulder stepped inside the cyber café and looked around. In the center of the coffee shop was a small gift store of glass cases showing off beeswax candles, finger puppets, bohemian jewelry, incense, eastern-style dress wraps, Albert Einstein quoted hippie-style bags. Gazing over the unique offerings, his eyes fell on a finger puppet set called ‘Day on Mars,’ containing a robot, two Martians, and a canine astronaut. Mulder chuckled.

“See anything you like?” asked the young man with black-rimmed glasses behind the counter.

“Yeah, I wanna get that Mars finger puppet set,” replied Mulder.

The man smiled and nodded, before turning around and taking the correct package from one of the shelves behind him. “That’ll be $19.99 plus tax,” he said, placing the puppet set on the counter and stepping aside to work the cash register.

Mulder pulled out his wallet and paid for the puppets. The young man placed the package in a small black plastic bag with the cyber café’s name emblazoned on the side. “You got kids?”

“What?” asked Mulder, his eyes widening slightly, suddenly feeling a sense of panic. Any one of these people sitting at these tables could be alien replicants. He had no idea just how many there were, and where they were placed. Most likely all over the country.

The young man handed Mulder the plastic bag and tilted his head towards it. “Kids. Do you have any? You know, for the puppets. Kids love ‘em.”

Mulder sighed, his panic slightly dissipating. “Uh, yeah. I have a son.”

Handing over the receipt, the young staff member smiled. “Enjoy.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks,” Mulder replied, and then walked out of the café.

Back at the motel room, he sat in front of the window, gun in hand on his lap, watching the parking lot for some time. His nerves still felt slightly rattled from the rising panic he’d felt back at Otherlands. Mulder then stood up and decided to rummage through his duffel bag. Inside were most of the contents of the large metal safety deposit box, which was now sitting on the shelf in Scully’s bedroom. He’d taken everything except the passports and drivers’ licenses belonging to her and the vast majority of the cash. She’d argued with him about only taking $100,000 but he’d been adamant that the money needed to stay with her and William.

Then Mulder came across something he hadn’t put inside the duffel bag. There was a black plastic film canister with a gray lid. He still had a couple hours before it was time to talk to Scully, so grabbing the canister and the car keys, Mulder left the motel and drove to the Walmart Supercenter. After he approached the Photo Center, the middle-aged man at the counter assuring him the film could be developed in an hour, he quickly left the store.

Thinking of how he’d pass the time, Mulder asked a random family walking in the parking lot for directions to the closest US Post Office. Five minutes later, he was pulling up to the curb in front of the postal office on East Wall Street in downtown Midland. Taking the black plastic bag containing the finger puppet set from the passenger seat, he walked inside the building. After inserting the package into a bubble mailer, Mulder addressed it to a post office box in Alexandria, Virginia, and then paid for postage at the counter.

It still wasn’t time to return to Walmart, so Mulder made his way back to the motel and checked out, paying the bill with cash. He then spent the next 30 minutes sitting in the Supercenter’s parking lot, and he thankfully was able to find a rock music radio station out of the nearby city of Gardendale among the abundant amount of country, Spanish, and religious stations clogging the radio waves down there.

At 4:30 pm, Mulder walked inside the Walmart and made his way to the Photo Center, where he paid for the 4 x 6 prints that were handed to him in a lined envelope. Once he was back inside the car, he debated about looking at the photographs. He had an idea where they’d come from, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to look at them. Glancing at the watch on his left wrist, which was still set on east coast time, butterflies filled his stomach.

Mulder then drove to an Exxon gas station and filled the tank of his Camaro. Once the gas tank was full he pulled the car up to the convenience store, where he got out and walked around the side of the building to the payphone. After removing one of the phone cards from his wallet, he called information and retrieved the number he needed. Upon hanging up with information, Mulder glanced down at his watch, which told him the time was 5:55 pm in DC, and then he dialed the number.

“Federal Grounds Internet Café. My name is Erin. How may I help you?” spoke the friendly, musical female voice on the line.

“Uh, hi, um… I’d like to speak with an intriguing woman named BJ, please?”

Erin paused. “I’m sorry, what?”

Mulder cleared his throat. “An intriguing woman named BJ. Is she there? I’d like to speak with her.”

“Um, okay,” Erin replied, snorting. “And who may I say is calling?”

“Eugene Victor Tooms,” he quickly replied, thinking of the first name that came to him that wasn’t George Hale.

He then listened as she brought the phone down from her ear, and heard the muffled sound of her informing the patrons inside that a Eugene Victor Tooms was on the phone for an intriguing woman named BJ. Mulder would’ve chuckled if his stomach hadn’t been a bundle of nerves.

Erin then spoke into the receiver. “Looks like your lucky day, sir. We’ve got a winner.”

“What does she look like?” he asked, feeling excited.

“Pretty, red hair, holding a baby,” the woman replied.

Mulder breathed a sigh of relief, and felt adrenaline coursing through his veins. “Yeah, that’s her.” He then listened to muffled sounds of the phone on the other end no doubt changing hands. And then a sound filled his ear, a sound unlike any other, a voice that filled him at once with unbelievable pleasure and unbearable sadness.

“Hello?” the voice asked tentatively.

“It’s me.”

She heaved a deep sigh. “Oh, my God. Mu…”

“Don’t! Don’t say my name.” He suddenly felt frightened over using the names Scully and Mulder over the phone, or even by email, as if these two words when sent out over the Internet or a telephone line would somehow raise red flags. “Feel free to call me George. Or, you know, Eugene works too, I guess.”

She sighed. “I… I got your message. But when I checked my email, there was nothing. I got scared.” Her voice choked with emotion.

He closed his eyes and swallowed against the lump growing in his own throat. “I haven’t written yet, I’m sorry. I will. I just... I just needed to hear your voice and make sure you're all right. Have you had any problems?”

“No, not really,” she said. “John came by looking for you yesterday, wanting to know where you went.”

“What did you tell him?” he asked.

She paused, sighing. “Nothing. I just told him you were gone. But I called, uh, Walter last night and told him to tell John to stop asking about you.”

He glanced around, his eyes scanning the parking lot carefully. “Did you tell Uncle Walter about what our friend… Alvin… told us?”

“Yes, but he already knew,” she replied. “Are you okay? Has anything happened?”

“No, nothing. No developments. No sign of any trouble. I’m about as fine as I can be right now, I guess.” He sighed. “Listen, I have to go now. I’ve stayed here in this town long enough. I gotta get moving.”

He listened to her breathing for a moment, and then she spoke. “I’d ask you where you were going if I could. But I know I can’t. Please just be careful.”

He felt the lump in his throat grow bigger, and hot tears pricked his eyes. “I will. I want you to go back over to one of those computers and write me an email. Tell me everything I’ve missed about the kid.”

“Not much has happened in two days,” she replied.

“I still wanna know every detail,” he said.

Silence hung between them, not knowing how to end the phone call. Finally, Mulder whispered into the receiver. “Scu…” He sighed. “Dana…” He listened to her sniffle, and thought he heard her suppress a sob. He wanted to promise her that everything was going to be okay. He wanted to promise that he would see her soon, that it wouldn’t be long until they could all be together again. But he couldn’t find the words. “Give the kid a kiss for me,” he whispered, and then promptly hung up the payphone.

Mulder walked away from the phone with a heavy heart, and then got back inside the Camaro. It was looking a little worse for wear, and after running through a car wash, he made his way back onto highway I-20, heading west.

*****

After driving 136 miles, highway interstate 20 became the I-10, the highway that would take him into New Mexico. Four and a half hours after leaving Midland, Mulder was driving into the city of El Paso, Texas. There he made a brief pit stop for food and gas, and was back on the road by 10:00 pm. Five hours later, around three o’clock in the morning on Saturday, January 13th, Mulder arrived in Tucson, having driven clear across the state of New Mexico.

Stopping at a gas station and buying a state map, Mulder wondered just how long he’d be in the area, just how long it would take to accomplish what he’d set out to do. The gas station attendant pointed him in the direction of a place to stay nearby. He then drove down North Oracle Road, an area studded with warehouses, once-glitzy but now questionable motels, dive bars, strip joints, and porn shops. Ladies of the night worked the street corners underneath flickering florescent lamps. Drug dealers stood in doorways of buildings with peeling paint. People walked down the sidewalk drinking out of bottles wrapped in brown paper bags.

Mulder kept driving until illegal activity was no longer so obviously on display, and then pulled into the No-Tell Motel, advertising hourly and weekly rates. The No-Tell was made up of a darkened parking lot surrounded by two rows of rooms and a dry six-foot-deep pool. There were only three other cars in the lot besides his own. Surprisingly, the light inside the office was on and as Mulder approached the door, he saw that someone was working behind the desk.

Once he was inside the office, the man standing behind the desk silently pushed forward a clipboard with a pencil attached by a small chain. Mulder glanced around the dated office, with faded décor from the 1970’s, and then penciled in the name George Hale as well as a fake address.

“You planning on having any guests?” asked the man, middle-aged, wearing a plaid button down shirt, stretching tight over his beer belly.

“Not right now, no,” answered Mulder. The idea of staying alone in such an unsavory place made him feel a bit queasy. “I’d like a room for a week, though. So maybe later on.”

The man nodded. “It’s $35 a night. We only accept cash. And total payment must be made up front.”

Mulder handed over $210, and was given the key to room Number 7, before exiting the office and driving the Camaro over to park in front of the designated motel room. He collected his things and carried his luggage inside, double checking to make sure both the car doors and the motel door were locked. Mulder took a deep breath, and looked over his surroundings.

The room smelled of cigarette smoke and that distinct, universal motel-hotel scent. Wood paneling lined the walls and there were glass mirrors on the ceiling above a waterbed. A grimy air conditioner was attached to the wall underneath the window. An old, worn down wooden dresser and gray metal chair also adorned the room, but not much else. Mulder reached for the television remote on the dresser and turned on the TV, immediately being greeted with the sight of a woman pleasuring herself with a dildo. Free porn. He hadn’t thought these places still existed.

He crossed the room to check out the bathroom. The sink looked like it worked well enough, and surprisingly the toilet wasn’t all that scary, despite its early-industrial appearance. However, Mulder wasn’t about to touch the shower. Years of untold muck had accumulated on the tiles, inside the tub, leaving a yellow-brown streaked effect. There was no way in hell he would be setting foot in there.

Mulder walked back out to the room, and sat down on the edge of the waterbed. On the television, a woman wearing fishnet stockings moaned as she straddled the lap of a man with a mullet. Melancholy and emptiness sank in the pit of his stomach like a rock as he sat hunched over on the bed, staring at his hands.

A few minutes later, he walked outside to the new-looking vending machine by the dried up pool and bought a can of root beer. As he walked back a door opened to his right, and a pair of eyes stared out at him. Mulder froze, and with increasing alarm realized he’d left his gun inside the room. He stood there, staring back at the indiscernible face until the door closed. Mulder quickly walked back to his room, shutting the door and triple-checking the lock.

Feeling exhausted and paranoid, he resumed his place on the bed, gun in one hand and sipping the can of root beer from the other, staring at the door while a couple panted and moaned on the TV. After a while, he felt assured that no unseemly characters would be barging into the room, human or supernatural, and he laid the gun down on the bed.

Grabbing the photos he’d gotten from the Walmart Photo Center in Midland, Texas, he sat back down on the bed and pulled them out of the envelope. One by one, he went through pictures of Scully, William, and himself. There was one of William sleeping on her chest in the Atlanta airport, one of Scully holding the baby next to the window on their flight home to DC from Georgia. Mulder ran his thumb over a picture he’d taken in the bedroom, of William nursing at his mother’s full breast and staring wide-eyed up at her. There was also a picture Scully must’ve snapped, one of himself and William sleeping on the couch.

Mulder then gazed down at a photo of her face, her hair had gone curly, she was sans makeup and so freckles were apparent on her skin as well as the mole above her lip that she always covered. She was beautiful. She was smiling at him, and he could see the dimple in her cheek. Her eyes gave off a knowing, suggestive quality, as if hinting at a special secret that only they two shared. Scully was happy, and the look she was giving him was a look that for years he’d never believed was possible he would be on the receiving end of. She loved him.

He pictured her at home, possibly getting up to change William’s diaper or to feed him. He pictured her caring for their son, dressing him in those tiny baby clothes, singing to him, reading to him. And then he looked around at the shithole he now found himself in. Burying his face in his hands, he began to sob tears of grief. Eventually, though he had no idea when or how, Mulder drifted to sleep.


	104. "So maybe to find Mulder we first have to look for Gibson Praise."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully start using email to communicate with one another. A companion eagerly joins Mulder in his travels.
> 
> Sidenote: While not graphic or even elaborate in the slightest, there are hints at unsavory deeds involving children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Journey – “Send Her My Love”
> 
> It's been so long  
> Since I've seen her face  
> You say she's doin' fine  
> I still recall a sad café  
> How it hurt so bad to see her cry  
> I didn't want to say goodbye
> 
> Send her my love, memories remain  
> Send her my love, roses never fade  
> Send her my love
> 
> The same hotel, the same old room  
> I'm on the road again  
> She needed so much more  
> Than I could give  
> We knew our love could not pretend  
> Broken hearts can always mend
> 
> Send her my love, memories remain  
> Send her my love, roses never fade  
> Send her my love
> 
> Callin' out her name, I'm dreamin'  
> Reflections of her face I'm seein'  
> It's her voice  
> That keeps on haunting me
> 
> Send her my love, memories remain  
> Send her my love, roses never fade  
> Send her my love

Late on Saturday morning, Mulder groaned and rolled over, instantly feeling the mattress beneath him rock and sway. His eyes flew open and he sat up quickly, sighing as he remembered he was lying on a waterbed. He glanced upwards at the ceiling. Yep. The mirrors were still there. He rolled out of bed, still fully dressed, and got to his feet. He could hear rain falling outside and stepped towards the window. He had a strong desire to leave, to get the hell out and go elsewhere. But he figured anyone in their right mind, human or alien, would assume that anyone in their right mind wouldn’t come anywhere near such a place as this. So the No-Tell Motel was where he would stay until he retrieved what he came to the city of Tucson for.

Now that it was day, Mulder decided to take a better look over his surroundings. It was obvious that the room was supposed to be private. The burgundy curtains wouldn’t open and there was a piece of black duct tape over the peephole in the door. All the same, he didn’t feel too secure. After walking into the bathroom to empty his bladder, he stared at the medicine cabinet above the sink. It may at one time have been painted white, but now it looked more gray than anything. The paint was also chipping and peeling. His gut instincts told him not to open it, that he couldn’t possibly see anything worthwhile behind the door. But he couldn’t ignore his overwhelming curiosity, and opened the cabinet. Inside were old syringes and a crack pipe. He sighed and closed the medicine cabinet, before washing his hands and leaving the bathroom.

Mulder then left the room, locking the door behind him, and walked to the drug store next door to the motel. He grabbed a bottle of orange juice from one of the beverage coolers, and walked up to the counter. A Latino woman in her mid-late 40’s was working the cash register, and he set his bottle of orange juice down in front of her.

“Ma’am, uh, if I wanted to get to South Eighth Ave, how would I get there?” Mulder asked.

She looked up at him, as if startled at being spoken to. “Depends on what your starting point is.”

He pursed his lips and nodded. “I’m staying next door at the No-Tell.”

“Oh, well then you wanna get back on the freeway, going east on the I-10, and take the exit for Sixth Ave, take a left, when you get to West 40th Street, take another left. West 40th turns into Eighth Ave.”

“Thanks,” replied Mulder, who handed over the cash for the orange juice, and started to walk away from the counter.

The woman then called out to him, and he turned to see her staring determinedly at him. “Just a piece of advice: keep your stuff locked inside the trunk of your car, if you have one. The locks at the No-Tell don’t work very good.”

Mulder wasn’t about to ask her how she knew that, and simply nodded before turning and walking out through the automatic doors. It was still raining, and the temperature felt cool and mild to him, guessing the temperature was somewhere around 65o outside. As he strode down the sidewalk, heading back to the motel, two women were also walking, and coming towards him. One wore a pink raincoat and carried a matching umbrella, and she was trying her very best to ignore the other woman walking near her. This woman, dressed in a dirty t-shirt and ripped blue jeans, was erratically shaking her head, and appeared to be babbling incoherently, as though she was having an intense conversation with an invisible someone. When the woman walked past him on the sidewalk, Mulder saw that she had a hole in the side of her face the size of a bullet.

After he’d returned to the motel room, double checking the lock on the door, Mulder sat in the metal chair and drank his juice. He wasn’t exactly sure what would be required to attain what he’d come for, didn’t have a plan worked out, and had no idea just how many problems might be involved in the attempt. Remembering that he thought he’d seen a sign for a dry cleaner the night before, Mulder hauled his luggage out to the Camaro, locking it in the trunk, before driving back down Oracle Road. Three blocks from the motel, on the right side of the street, was Garcia Cleaners & Laundry. Pulling into the parking lot, he soon after got out of the car and removed his charcoal suit along with a white dress shirt from one of the suitcases, and walked inside to drop them off.

The man at the counter told him the suit could be ready by Sunday afternoon, and then Mulder left. Driving back down in the direction of the No-Tell, he laid eyes on a Mexican restaurant called Las Fuentes, situated between another run-down motel and a decaying house. The restaurant’s building looked like a group of brightly colored cubes all connected together. The place also looked swamped with customers, the busy lunch crowd. Mulder’s instincts battled it out. The idea of blending into a large group of people, hiding among the masses, appealed to his basic gut feelings. But then how would he know if everyone inside was actually human? Anyone could pose a deadly threat. With anyone he came across, that meeting could potentially be his last moments on earth.

In the end, Mulder’s growling stomach won out. Parking in the lot beside the restaurant, he got out of the car and walked inside. A sign proudly announced that Las Fuentes was family-owned and had been around for more than 35 years. Despite the unfavorable location, or maybe in spite of it, the restaurant inside was impeccably clean and looked like a classy place. The décor was tastefully done with a plethora of Mexican plants and artwork. An autographed portrait of former President Bill Clinton hung on the wall next to the front door.

Once he was seated at a small table, Mulder ordered the tamales lunch special, which was brought to his table just 15 minutes later. He then feasted on the steamed corn masa-dough filled with pulled pork in a traditional red sauce. It was delicious, and eating a freshly cooked hot meal did wonders for his mood after several days of fast food and convenience store snacks.

Once he’d finished his lunch, Mulder asked his waitress for directions to an internet café in the area, and was directed to Roadrunner Coffee Bar on North Stone Avenue, which ran parallel with Oracle Road just a few blocks over. After easily finding the cornflower blue building with outdoor patio furniture, he walked inside the bright and airy café, the ceiling dotted with ample recessed lighting. On the left side of the room was the counter, complete with glass display case showing off bagels, muffins, and pastries as well as bottles of water and a variety of juices. A woman with a nose piercing and cropped short dyed black hair wearing a blue apron took his small coffee order from behind the cash register, and a minute later her co-worker, a young woman with curly blond hair handed him his cup.

Walking past the counter, Mulder situated himself at a small circular table, setting his coffee down to the right of the mouse pad. Once he’d double clicked on the Internet Explorer icon and a window popped up, he signed into his email account, butterflies filling his stomach.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
To: trust_no1@mail.com  
Date: Jan 12, 2001

It was so good to hear your voice, Mulder. You have no idea. Things are calm here and I hope they stay that way, but I have a feeling that won’t be the case. The sooner this situation is resolved, the better. It feels so wrong to be separated like this. Anyways, you wanted me to tell you about William. He’s still sleeping most of the time, waking up every three hours or so. But he’s been extra fussy since you left, crying more often, and it takes longer to calm him. I think I’m going to start playing the CD of your voice that Langly made. I think it’ll help. My mom's been calling, but I don’t answer the phone and I don’t call her back. How could I ever possibly explain this?

I know you can’t tell me much of anything, but please tell me everything you can. I hate not knowing. I miss you terribly and I’m starting to think that we should have just come with you.

*******************************************

Mulder sighed as he stared at the computer screen, and lowered his head as a feeling of deep sadness engulfed him. He then looked up and moved his hand to the mouse to click on the ‘Reply’ button.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: trust_no1@mail.com  
To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
Date: Jan 13, 2001

I know we both wanted to find a way to escape the threats against us without a separation. There have been no signs that I’ve been followed, or anything else to raise my suspicions. But danger lurks behind me and around every corner. A powerful enemy is out to find me, strangers unknown and unrecognizable, and against whom I have no real defense. This is no life for you, or for William.

I haven’t even begun to find any answers as to why this is happening. Mostly due to the fact I don’t even know what the hell I’m looking for. But I’m hoping that communication can be somewhat regular and that we can continue to make contact without sounding off any bells and whistles. I don’t know when I’ll be moving from this place. I might remain here for a while. It all depends on what it takes to accomplish a certain task. I wish I could tell you more, but if I elaborate I would be putting lives at risk other than my own.

And let your mother in. You need her, she needs you. You need to learn to let people love you. I have to go now. I will come home as soon as I am able. I know that you know this, but it makes me feel better to say it. Please write me as much as you can and tell me more about William. I miss you both constantly.

*******************************************

Mulder then logged out of his email account and closed out the internet browser. He quickly departed Roadrunner Coffee Bar and made his way back towards Oracle Road. He spent the remainder of the day holed up in his motel room, reading through X-Files case reports. In the late afternoon, he drove to a local YMCA about 10 minutes from the motel on East Ajo Way, and showered in the locker room. Wanting to be back at the motel before it got dark, he picked up a pizza and was inside room Number 7 just as the sun was setting. Saturday night proved to be much busier around the No-Tell than the previous night. Mulder could hear doors slamming shut throughout the evening, heard occasional voices out in the parking lot. At about 10:00 pm, someone entered the room next door. A few minutes later, the unmistakable sound of porn playing loudly on his neighbor's television could be heard through the thin wall between the two rooms.

Just before midnight, he stepped out to the parking lot, taking his gun this time, and walked towards the pool, surrounded by a chain link fence with big X’s on it, to grab a soda from the vending machine. While putting his coins into the machine, he turned his head to see a shirtless man standing motionless in the middle of the darkened parking lot, staring at the street entrance. Quickly grabbing the soda can, Mulder returned to his motel room, and unfortunately the porn blaring from next door didn’t cease until sometime around 3:00 am.

*****

On Sunday, January 14th, he was sitting at the table finishing up his lunch, silently listening to the cacophony of sounds around him in the crowded cafeteria, chairs sliding towards and away from tables, trays dropping down on surfaces, words both spoken and unspoken, conversations and thoughts intermingling into one indecipherable jangle. The angry, confused, frustrated, and heartsick thoughts and feelings surrounding him, emanating from both peers and adults, blended together into disarray. It was moments like this when he felt most at peace, when the world around him was just noise and he could simply think about himself.

His 15th birthday was coming up in a couple weeks and he wondered if anyone there knew that fact. He hadn’t made very many friends since he arrived back in September, only one, Chad Keller, who was sick with the flu and currently in the infirmary. Most of the other kids steered clear of him, believing him to be weird, and the staff viewed him as a troublemaker who needed a watchful eye. This was not due to his behavior since arriving at the place five months earlier, but to his more recent history as a ward of the state of Arizona. From June through August of the previous year, he’d been placed in five different foster homes in four counties. He had run away from each one.

The first foster home he’d been placed, with the Riesters in Coconino County, there were two other foster children in the home along with the couple’s biological son. The foster parent, Jackson Riester, abused his own wife and son, locked himself in the bathroom for hours shooting up heroin, and was arrested for drunken driving. That all happened in his first week in the Riesters’ house. He’d packed up his bag and snuck out in the middle of the night, and was then picked up by a police officer after someone called about a young boy hitchhiking.

The second and third foster homes, in Yavapai County, didn’t prove to be all that much different. At least one of the foster parents was a drunk and there was constant fighting in the homes, at times escalating to acts of violence. Again, he didn’t stick around very long and ran away as soon as he was given the opportunity. And again, he was eventually picked up by local law enforcement. Both families hadn’t even realized he was missing until they’d been contacted by the Arizona Children’s Association, who had put him in their care in the first place.

When he was placed in the fourth foster home, close to the Mexico border just outside the city of Somerton in Yuma County, he arrived to find that he was the only child in the home shared by a married couple, the Locklears. They seemed nice enough, but both foster parents worked full-time and it became clear that during the day he would be cared for by Mrs. Locklear’s 76 year old father, Bonifacio Velazquez, until school started up in mid-August. The man’s thoughts proved frightening and deeply disturbing, and he knew it would only be a matter of time before the old man acted on them. The man certainly had before with other children. Once again, he was running away from yet another home.

The fifth and final foster home he never even set foot in. He’d been placed with the Ferreras in Maricopa County who lived in a suburb of the city of Phoenix. Mr. and Mrs. Ferrera picked him up from the Arizona Children’s Association building in midtown Phoenix, and they started driving towards Sun City. The Ferreras’ thoughts centered on makeshift cages made out of small beds and baby cribs surrounded by chicken wire secured by duct tape in a darkened bedroom they kept referring to as ‘the dungeon.’ At a stop light in a busy intersection, he quickly unlocked the rear door of the Ferreras’ minivan and jumped out, running back in the opposite direction through oncoming traffic.

The Arizona Children’s Association, deciding that he needed to be cared for in a place where he couldn’t just simply walk out the door and flee with no one the wiser, finally put him where he was now. The cafeteria of the Angel Charity Home for Children was starting to empty, the lunch crowd dispersing. He then heard his name moments before it was spoken out loud.

“Gibson?”

He looked up to see Mrs. Doyle, a history teacher whose husband played bass guitar in a local rock band. She was his favorite staff member at The Home, young and pretty with shoulder-length dark brown hair.

“Someone from the FBI called the Children's Association office for you earlier today,” she said.

“Agent Doggett?” Gibson asked, thinking of the federal agent who’d driven him to the Children’s Association in Phoenix back in June.

Mrs. Doyle shook her head as a group of laughing teenagers walked behind her. “No.”

The laughing girls, giggling over some Hollywood movie star, obscured the teacher’s thoughts. But with a growing sense of relief, he guessed again, his eyes widening. “Agent Scully? Was it Agent Scully who called here for me?”

“No, it wasn’t him,” replied Mrs. Doyle.

“Her,” Gibson corrected the teacher. “Agent Scully is female.”

Mrs. Doyle smiled. “Ah. And you like this Agent Scully, I take it?”

He shrugged slightly. Agent Scully had made promises to him that she hadn’t been able to keep, even though she had every intention of keeping them and believed she could. But she was one of the few adults he’d ever come across who rarely spoke lies to him, who’d never said one thing while their thoughts told him something completely different. She’d only lied to him once, when she had unwrapped the bandages from his aching head, but he understood her reasons for doing so.

“Well, I’m sorry to say it wasn’t a female who called for you,” continued Mrs. Doyle, still smiling.

Gibson sighed, an indescribable sinking feeling coming over him. He hadn’t really known many other FBI agents, except Mulder, and he was dead.

“It was an Agent Gene Crane,” the teacher told him. “Do you know him?”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “But the name sounds familiar.” He thought Agent Crane might’ve been one of the guys working with Agent Doggett. “What did he want?”

Mrs. Doyle shifted the books in her arms. “He was just checking up on your status, wanted to make sure you were well-placed in a good home and that you were doing all right.”

He nodded. “Did they tell him I was here?”

“Yes, they did,” she replied. “He said he might come out here to visit you.”

“Oh, okay,” he said, standing up from the table, fervently hoping the FBI would just leave him alone.

The teacher gave him a sympathetic smile. “So what have you got planned for this afternoon? It’s a beautiful day. You should head outside and play with the other kids, make some friends.”

Gibson sighed. Mrs. Doyle was always trying to get him to make friends with the other kids, but he hadn’t come across very many his own age whose thoughts and actions made him want to get to know that person better. “I might just go back to my room and read a book.”

“You could take your book outside, you know,” she responded, grinning at him.

He nodded and rolled his eyes, slightly exaggerating his long-suffering of her constant encouragement. Mrs. Doyle pursed her lips and shook her head, her eyes twinkling at him, before walking away. Once Gibson made it upstairs to the room he shared with five other boys, three sets of bunk beds set up against the walls of the large bedroom, he grabbed a book from underneath one of the bottom bunks and sat down to read. Five minutes later, three of his roommates walked in and told him to “beat it.” Without a word of protest, Gibson took his book with him from the room and made his way outside. The thought of sitting underneath one of the trees in the large yard surrounding The Home wasn’t such a bad idea.

Walking past the front office and out through the open front doors, Gibson strolled across the yard filled with playing children. They paid him no mind. The nicely landscaped yard was encompassed by an eight-foot cast iron fence. As he approached his favorite tree, the Thornless Honey Mesquite, willow-like in appearance with a thick leafy canopy for nice shade from the sun, he thought he heard a familiar voice. He stopped in his tracks and looked around the yard. The children were playing badminton, jumping rope, or just running around playing newly-invented games of their own making. The voice hadn’t come from any of them. The street was quiet and not many cars were driving by, which wasn’t unusual for a Sunday afternoon.

He once again started walking towards the Honey Mesquite tree and suddenly heard the voice again. It was a man’s voice, or his thoughts rather. He could’ve sworn the voice belonged to someone that he knew, but it couldn’t be. That was impossible. But as he moved nearer and nearer to the tree, the voice became louder, and then there was no denying who it must belong to. Gibson looked around the yard, but only saw the other children and a few staff members.

His gaze then moved past the tree, beyond the cast iron fence, to a very dirty looking American muscle car parked on the curb across the street. His eyes widened in shock as he stared at the man sitting in the driver’s seat with the window lowered all the way down. It couldn’t be but there he was, munching on sunflower seeds. Approaching the tree, he crouched down and concentrated all his focus on the man’s thoughts. Growing simultaneously excited and fearful as he listened, he soon turned around and ran back inside the building. In less than two minutes, he was opening the door to his shared bedroom.

“Hey!” shouted his 16 year old roommate, Steve. “I thought we told you to get the fuck outta here.”

Gibson halted with his hand still on the doorknob, but then he smirked, squinting his eyes. “Why? You guys looking at the gay porn Todd’s got hidden under the loose floorboard in the third floor storage closet?”

“That’s a lie!” shouted Todd, standing up and balling his fists. But his eyes bulged, and his face turned beet red. He glanced nervously at his two friends, who were looking up at him suspiciously. “He’s just making shit up.”

“Or maybe you’re making plans to call your drug dealer, Floyd, for some more meth since you used up the last of your stash before you snuck over to the girls’ dormitory on Friday night,” Gibson said, casually shrugging your shoulders.

Steve’s eyes widened, and he looked furiously over at his friend Paul. “Who the fuck you been talking to?”

Paul stood abruptly, running his hand through his curly red hair, and shouted emphatically. “I didn’t say nothing to nobody, man!”

Gibson smirked and stepped aside from the door, leaving the way open out to the hall. “If the three of you leave the room right now, and when asked you just say you never saw me at all after lunch today, I won’t say a word about Floyd. And the meth. And going to the girls’ dormitory at night. And stealing cash from Mr. Prescott’s desk. And setting that fire in the maintenance room.”

Steve, Paul, and Todd all looked at each other, nodded silently, and then walked towards the doorway. After they’d walked through, Gibson turned to look at their departing backs. “Oh yeah, and the gay porn.” Before they could even turn around and respond, he slammed the door shut.

Quickly grabbing his backpack from the closet, he walked over to the dresser against the wall, and opening the bottom drawer, picked up all his clothes and shoved them into the backpack. Once he’d grabbed his toothbrush and deodorant from the bathroom cabinet, and they joined his clothes, he strapped the backpack over his arms and walked out of the room. Gibson carefully maneuvered through The Home, avoiding running into any teachers or other staff members. Thankfully there weren’t nearly as many adults in the building on Sundays as there were during the rest of the week.

He made it out the back door and happily found no one outside behind the house. Gibson moved with purpose towards the storage shed, and finding the hideaway key under a rock next to the Hackberry bush, unlocked the shed and walked inside. He crossed the shed to the chest of drawers, opened the top drawer and took out a set of two vintage metal keys. Gibson then went back outside, locking the door and returning the hideaway key, before walking to the back of the shed and squeezing himself between the shed wall and the fence.

There was an old gate, never used, with an antique padlock, made of heavy iron. He inserted the long metal key into the padlock and struggled to turn it. The mechanism was probably old and rusty. He tried the second key and the lock suddenly clicked open. To Gibson’s blessed relief, the gate hinges didn’t squeal as he pushed the door open, but it made a dull, grinding noise as it scraped against the ground. He stepped out beyond the barrier, and then pushed the gate closed, locking the padlock and tossing the keys into the grass.

Moving quickly around the building next door to The Home, Gibson soon emerged onto the sidewalk, and turning to his left, looked up the street. Thankfully, the old dirty Camaro was still parked along the opposite curb. He darted across the street, and started walking hurriedly up the sidewalk towards the car. Reaching the passenger side, he lifted the lock through the open window, before hastily opening the door and getting inside.

Gibson shut the car door, and then turned to look at the stunned face of the man in the driver’s seat. “So Mulder, where are we going?”

*****

He sat there, staring at the teenage boy now sitting in the passenger seat, a boy he hadn’t seen since he’d disappeared from that hospital in Phoenix over two years ago. “Um… I don’t really know.” Mulder still didn’t quite understand how retrieving Gibson had happened without actually having to do anything. He’d come by the Angel Charity Home for Children just to see the place, get a feel for the neighborhood, try to come up with an efficient plan to take Gibson off the state’s hands. Apparently, he shouldn’t have bothered dry cleaning that suit.

“It’s probably not a good idea for us to just sit here on the street outside The Home,” said Gibson.

“Right,” Mulder replied, bringing his hand up to the ignition and starting the car.

Gibson set his backpack down on the floor, and then reached back for the seat belt. “Is Agent Scully here, too?” But before Mulder could answer him, he heard a flurry of thoughts filling the car, and he looked over at him sadly. “I’m sorry.”

Mulder sighed, and put the car into drive. “I guess I gotta get used to you reading my mind. Anyways, don’t be sorry, Gibson.”

“Someone from the FBI called today, asking for me,” he said. “I was hoping it was Agent Scully, but it wasn’t her.”

“Someone from the FBI?” asked Mulder, turning his head sharply to look at the boy as he put his left turn signal on. “Who?”

Gibson shrugged. “Some agent named Gene Crane.”

Mulder’s eyes widened, and quickly checking his mirrors, hit the gas pedal and peeled away from the curb. Gibson tried to listen as his companion’s mind raced, but he did pick up on some key points.

“He’s an alien?” Gibson asked, his eyes opening in shock as the Camaro drove rapidly down the street. “Does he want to kill me?”

“No, I don’t think so,” replied Mulder, who thought they probably wanted to do something worse than simply kill him, but he held back from saying so.

Gibson, of course, caught this and turned to look at him. “What did they do to you?”

Mulder sighed. “Jesus, Gibson. Don’t ask me stuff like that. You don’t want to know.”

But it was too late, the horrific memories of his ordeal on board the alien spacecraft flooded his brain, and Gibson blanched. Ten minutes later, Mulder drove through a car wash, the dirt and grime washed clean from his car, and the blue paint sparkled in the sunshine. Not long after, he was pulling into the lot of the No-Tell Motel and parking in front of room Number 7.

Unlocking the motel room door, Mulder followed Gibson inside, and then they both stopped and stared. A cockroach scurried along the ceiling, heading towards the bathroom. A big cockroach was sitting on the bed. It defied any and all attempts by Mulder and Gibson to kill it.

“I hate roaches,” Gibson griped.

Mulder nodded, and he remembered that USDA house in Massachusetts he had the distinct pleasure of coming across five years ago, the image of hundreds of cockroaches pouring out of the wall.

“Ugh! Disgusting!” exclaimed Gibson, turning to stare at him with knitted brows. “Could you think about something else, please?”

“Sorry,” he muttered in response.

Gibson sighed, and sat down in the gray metal chair. “I can tell you don't have any plans right now, but how long were you planning on staying in this… place?”

“To be honest, I really had no idea what I was going to do once I found you,” Mulder replied. “But we shouldn’t stick around very long if that Agent Crane is coming to town. He could be in Tucson already. You need to be protected. We’ll leave tonight.”

Feeling thankful he wasn’t going to have to spend the night in this dump, Gibson relaxed a bit. “I don’t suppose you have any books, do you?”

Mulder nodded. “Yeah, there’s a few in one of the suitcases.”

Walking over to the luggage by the door, Gibson quickly found some books. _Native American Beliefs and Practices_ caught his attention, and he pulled it from the suitcase, before returning to the metal chair. An hour after the sun set, Mulder and Gibson loaded the luggage into the trunk of the Camaro and they departed the No-Tell Motel, never to return.

“I honestly have no idea where I’m going,” Mulder said, sighing as he drove towards the highway.

“Phoenix is a big city, easy to blend in,” Gibson responded.

Two hours later, at 8:50 pm, they arrived at the Apache Junction Inn near the Phoenix airport, and Mulder paid $45 for the night. After bringing his suitcases inside the room, he planted himself in front of the television and watched ESPN. Gibson reclined on the other double bed in the room, reading from _Native American Beliefs and Practices_.

“Where did you get this book?” Gibson asked.

“Diana sent it to Scully,” replied Mulder. “At least… she assumed it was Diana.”

Gibson turned to look over at him. He was sitting up and staring at the TV, but his thoughts turned to an illness he’d had and subsequent brain surgery, being taken by that Smoking Man, Agent Scully’s discoveries in Africa, Diana’s death, a Navajo man named Albert. Gibson refrained from asking Mulder anymore questions.

At midnight, the television was turned off and Mulder lay down, staring up at the ceiling. Gibson kept reading, using the only lamp that still remained on inside the room. After a few moments, he turned to look at Mulder lying on the other bed. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep. Gibson sighed and returned to his book, listening to the painful, heartsick thoughts of a man who desperately wanted the woman he loved, and an infant boy named William whom Gibson didn’t know.


	105. “You can't kill their love, which is what makes them who they are, makes them better than us, better than you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder receives distressing news from Scully, and then finds a more permanent place to conceal himself and Gibson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pink Floyd - "Wish You Were Here"
> 
> So, so you think you can tell  
> Heaven from Hell  
> Blue skies from pain  
> Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?  
> A smile from a veil?  
> Do you think you can tell?
> 
> Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?  
> Hot ashes for trees?  
> Hot air for a cool breeze?  
> Cold comfort for change?  
> Did you exchange a walk on part in the war  
> For a lead role in a cage?
> 
> How I wish, how I wish you were here  
> We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl  
> Year after year  
> Running over the same old ground  
> What have we found, the same old fears  
> Wish you were here

On Monday morning, Mulder awoke in the double room he was sharing with Gibson Praise in the Apache Junction Inn close to the Phoenix International Airport, and stared up at the ceiling. His first thought upon waking was Scully: her face, her mouth, her arms, her legs, her hands, memories of her warm body curled up against his. He hated sleeping alone. Wanting so badly to talk to her, tears starting to prick his eyes, he wondered if she’d replied to the email he sent on Saturday.

After a quick glance over at a sleeping Gibson on the double bed next to his, Mulder got to his feet and went into the bathroom to get cleaned up. By the time he’d showered and dressed into a fresh set of clothes, walking back out to the room, Gibson was awake, sitting up in bed and watching the Cartoon Network.

“I’m starving,” he said, turning to look at Mulder and getting out of bed.

He smirked slightly. “We’ll get some food soon. Why don’t you head in there and do what you gotta do, and then we’ll get going.”

While Gibson showered, Mulder grabbed the telephone directory from the desk and searched through the listings in the yellow pages. Thirty minutes later they were pulling out of the motel parking lot, and after a 10 minute drive they arrived at Guerrero Internet Café on West Camelback Road at 9:48 am. At the counter, Mulder purchased a bagel and medium coffee for himself, a breakfast sandwich and 16 oz. bottle of chocolate milk for Gibson.

As Mulder sat down at one of the computers, he glanced over to see his young companion taking a seat on the black leather couch against the wall on his right, opening the sandwich wrapper and looking down at _Native American Beliefs and Practices_ lying across his lap. The flat screen television hanging from the wall in the corner was on a local news channel, and he wondered when the word would spread that a teenage boy was missing from the Angel Charity Home for Children in Tucson, and if Gibson’s face would be planted across every TV station and newspaper in Arizona.

Wanting to check his email and get Gibson out of public sight as soon as possible, he ignored the bagel and coffee, clicking on the Internet icon and signing into his account.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
To: trust_no1@mail.com  
Date: Jan 15, 2001

Mulder, some strange things have happened over the past couple days, and I don’t know what to make of any of it. I’ve debated whether I should even tell you any of this. John and Monica wanted me to assist them in investigating a couple drowning deaths. They had one of the bodies sent to Quantico.

Two men were murdered who had some connection with the Environmental Protection Agency and a water reclamation plant in Maryland. A woman, Shannon McMahon, an old friend of Doggett’s from his time in the military, killed these men. She claimed to be one of these Super Soldiers, like Knowle Rohrer, to be a bio-engineered combat unit who cannot be killed.

She said these men were working on the water supply by changing the molecular structure of an additive, chloramine. This Shannon McMahon claimed that these changes would prepare the population to breed these Super Soldiers, that it would mutate fertilization and pregnancy. I didn’t want to believe her. It’s absurd. But she had the “standard mutation,” she called it, same as Billy Miles and the others, that reptilian ridge protruding from her neck. She let me examine her, but other than the deformity, she seemed to be completely normal.

With help from the Gunmen, Monica learned of a Navy ship, the Valor Victor, housing a secret government lab connected to this so-called Super Soldier breeding program. I had to go with John and Monica. I had to see for myself. And it was true. There was a large lab on board, performing some kind of experiment with human ova. Monitors showed cloning-type ova manipulation, with manipulated eggs stored for transplantation. There was a production line of plastic storage bags with women’s names on them. I tried searching for my name, but I didn’t have enough time to find it. The ship exploded less than a minute later.

And now I’m afraid I’ll never know for sure. But I’m having my water tested at Quantico for this altered chloramine. I need answers. We both do.

*******************************************

Gibson sat reading, unbothered by the people around him, thoughts and conversation mingling together into a quiet buzz of white noise. But as one voice suddenly became a lot louder than the rest, he looked up at Mulder staring wide-eyed at the computer monitor, clenching his jaw.

Quickly grabbing the mouse, Mulder clicked the ‘Reply’ button.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: trust_no1@mail.com  
To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
Date: Jan 15, 2001

What the hell were you thinking? Why are you getting involved with Doggett’s investigation? I left for your safety, and for William’s. So why are you risking that? Even if there exists government programs to create invincible soldiers, which isn’t a surprise because we’ve seen evidence of that before, I don’t think that’s where you’ll find the answers we need.

Maybe the altered chloramine can somehow mutate ova. But are you forgetting that you didn’t even have any to mutate in the first place? I know you want answers, but you’ve got to stay out of it. The only thing keeping me going is knowing that you and William are safe. It’s the only comfort I have left. Please don’t take that away from me.

*******************************************

He sighed, staring at the screen. Scully had been inside a lab, on a Navy ship that exploded less than a minute later. Jesus Christ. He turned and saw Gibson staring at him. Great. Mulder took a sip from his coffee, and as he took hold of the mouse again, aiming to sign out of his account, a new message appeared in his Inbox. He quickly opened it.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
To: trust_no1@mail.com  
Date: Jan 15, 2001

Something happened, with William. The mobile over his bassinet was spinning, by itself. He was crying, and it was moving. I stopped it, but when I let go it just started spinning again. He did the same thing when Mom was watching him. She said he actually reached up with his arm and pointed at it. He’s only two weeks old. He shouldn’t even be pointing at anything yet. I don’t know how to explain it, Mulder. It’s not normal. I’m scared. I need answers. I can’t just sit around wondering.

*******************************************

He stared at the monitor in disbelief, mouth falling slightly open; heart sinking into his stomach. Mulder felt helpless. He was over 2,000 miles away from Scully and his son. He couldn’t protect them by staying with them, and he was starting to doubt whether he could really protect them by staying away. What if the FBI or these alien replicants learned of this thing about William? How safe was he? He wanted to allay Scully’s fears, but he didn’t really know how.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: trust_no1@mail.com  
To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
Date: Jan 15, 2001

We both need answers, Dana. But those answers will be meaningless if you get yourself killed. Don’t put yourself unnecessarily in harm’s way again. I wish I had some explanation to give you for William. We’ve never seen any evidence that these Super Soldiers have any kind of psychokinetic ability. There are so many unknowns. But there is one thing I am certain of. William is our biological son. He is not some bio-engineered soldier who was created in a lab, with physical mutations or deformities. We created him. You and I. How we were able to accomplish that, I don’t know. But that doesn’t change the fact that we did.

I might be on the move again shortly, I’m not sure. I’ll write when I can. Please be careful. And don’t take anymore foolish risks. I need to know that I have a family I will eventually be able to come home to. I miss you more than words could ever say. Kiss William for me and tell him that I love him.

*******************************************

Mulder logged out of his email account and closed down the Internet browser. He turned in his chair to see Gibson staring fixedly at him. Mulder sighed and got up from the table, silently telling his telepathic companion it was time to leave. Gibson followed him out the door, and the ride back to the Apache Junction Inn was a quiet one.

The two didn’t speak for the rest of the evening. Mulder flicked absentmindedly through TV channels, keeping the volume louder than usual in a vain effort to keep Gibson from hearing his head. But Gibson continued to read from _Native American Beliefs and Practices,_ and continued listening to an array of thoughts circling inside Mulder’s mind. He thought of Scully’s abduction, the chip in her neck, her cancer and infertility, and her pregnancy. He thought of his own mysterious illness caused by some alien artifact, his brain surgery, the memory of Scully telling him about Albert Hosteen visiting her and telling her that Mulder must be saved for the sake of mankind.

Gibson tried focusing all his concentration on the book, and not the confused thoughts of the man sitting on the other bed. After a while, he had the notion that puzzle pieces of Mulder’s dilemma could possibly come together. He looked up from where he was reading in chapter four, and turned to speak to Mulder, who sat leaning his head back against the headboard, his eyes closed, no longer watching the basketball game.

But Gibson blushed as he realized his friend had wandered into some daydream world filled with intimate memories of Agent Scully. Hers was the face Mulder saw on the back of his eyelids, and thoughts of her filled the empty spaces. His thoughts dwelt on her beauty, the glow of her ivory skin, her soft hair burning like a flame around her delicate features, her eyes and their clear, blue depths, her slim body boasting womanly hips and perfectly round breasts, moving underneath him, above him, wrapped around him.

Gibson stared down at the book, eyebrows furrowing, wishing he didn’t have to hear something so personal about Mulder and Scully. It wasn’t long before he listened to the sensual memories fade, becoming overshadowed by anguished thoughts filled with pain and regret, grief and anger, the mood in the room turning bleak. Gibson didn’t know which was worse, the intimacy or the despair.

*****

On Tuesday morning, Mulder was awakened by the sound of Gibson packing up the room. He blinked himself fully awake and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“What’s going on? You in some kind of hurry?”

“I figured we should probably check out today and get moving,” answered Gibson.

Mulder sighed. “What happened to blending into the big city of Phoenix?”

Gibson looked over at the map of Arizona. “I think we should head north, to the town of Kayenta. Should only take a few hours to get there.”

Sitting up and throwing his legs over the side of the bed, Mulder sighed again. “What’s in Kayenta?”

“Answers, maybe,” Gibson replied cryptically. “Or a way to find some answers. Have you read that?” He nodded his head towards the book on his bed next to his red and black backpack.

“I read a few chapters,” Mulder said.

Gibson nodded, placing his toothbrush inside the backpack. “Have you ever thought of going and asking the Anasazi about the sixth extinction? About the man who’s supposed to save us from it?”

Mulder scoffed and stood up from the bed, heading towards the bathroom. “The Anasazi vanished. They aren’t around anymore,” he said over his shoulder. “And no one man can save us from the alien invasion. That book is just stories, myths.”

“Their descendants are still around,” Gibson stated confidently. “My history teacher, Mrs. Doyle, said they live in the pueblos in Arizona and New Mexico; that their pueblos can be found on mesa tops and along the banks of the Rio Grande. If you’re going to find them and speak to them, you’ll need help from the Navajos. That’s where Kayenta is: the Navajo Nation.”

Stepping up to the sink, Mulder grabbed hold of his toothbrush and the tube of toothpaste, dispensing some minty paste onto the bristles and shaking his head. Great, maybe they should just go ask Mrs. Doyle what they should do next.

“You know, the Navajo Indian Reservation might not be a bad place to stay,” Gibson continued, knowing Mulder was thinking seriously about what he was saying despite his internal grumbling. “Mrs. Doyle said that only 30% of homes on the reservation have a telephone. So they probably don’t even have the Internet. There’s also a limited number of police.”

Mulder spit out a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink basin. “What makes you think they’d even let us stay there? We’re fugitives. They’d probably escort us to the border and tell us never to come back.”

“Not if you explain to them about what’s happened to you over the past couple years,” replied Gibson. “Just tell them about that Native American man visiting Agent Scully and everything he said to her.”

Walking out of the bathroom, Mulder stared at Gibson, sighing.

Gibson grinned. “What? You got a better idea?”

Maybe the reservation was a good place to hide out until he could think of a plan. Mulder needed to find out why William was important to the alien replicants and whatever their agenda was for colonization. He needed to find out why he was deemed dangerous, why they believed he had to be kept from his own son. Mulder still had no idea how he could go about learning the truth.

“All right, we’ll leave when it gets dark,” Mulder said.

They mostly kept a low profile for the rest of the day, only leaving the motel once to head to a Laundromat down the street, making a quick stop for lunch at a Burger King drive-thru on the way back. Just before 6:30 pm, they checked out of the Apache Junction Inn and got onto highway I-17, heading north. Two and a half hours later they arrived in the city of Flagstaff, about halfway to Kayenta.

Mulder suddenly didn’t want to get to the Navajo Indian Reservation too quickly, in no hurry to find himself without easy access to the Internet. He didn’t want to be cut off from Scully more than he already was, a dull sense of fear flooding the pit of his stomach.

“Do you want to stay in Flagstaff for a while?” Gibson asked. “Before we head to the reservation?”

Exiting the highway, Mulder drove along South Milton Road, a stretch dotted with plenty of motels to choose from. After pulling into the parking lot of The L Motel, and walking into the front lobby, Mulder asked Gibson if he sensed anything untoward. He shook his head in response, and so Mulder approached the front desk and paid the $250 weekly rate for a double room. The motel offered a complimentary computer in the lobby’s common area, but Mulder was hesitant to use it. He’d much rather access the Internet at a separate location from where they were staying.

On Monday at 11:00 am, after partaking of the complimentary continental breakfast, they checked out of The L Motel and Mulder drove to Hopi Coffee Bean on East Seventh Avenue. They hadn’t yet visited this place, having gone to the Java Junction Cyber Café and Hallowed Grounds Coffee Shop during their week in Flagstaff. Next door to the Hopi Coffee Bean was a RadioShack. With a quick glance down at his young companion, Mulder walked inside the store and purchased a portable CD player/FM radio with headphones along with a pack of AA batteries, Gibson grinning at him the entire time.

Entering the internet café, Mulder looked down at Gibson, silently asking him if the place was safe. Gibson looked around at the patrons inside, and then nodded in the affirmative. They then approached the counter, ordering a couple beverages, before walking towards the sitting area. Mulder sat down at a circular table, setting his iced tea down next to the computer monitor, with Gibson sitting nearby in a brown leather armchair against the wall.

After signing into his email, he turned to watch Gibson smirk at him and then put the headphones over his ears, turning on the FM radio. To test it out, Mulder said a few shocking things inside his head, but getting no reaction from Gibson, he then felt satisfied and turned back to the computer screen.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
To: trust_no1@mail.com  
Date: Jan 21, 2001

You wanted me to tell you what I miss about you. There are so many little things, I couldn’t possibly recount them all. I miss the feelings of contentment and security that just your presence brings. I miss just being able to sit in comfortable silence with you. My mother and Jennifer have to fill up the silence with noise, pushing me to talk. You always let me be silent when I need to be. I also miss your voice, whether you’re haranguing on about the Knicks or some psychic phenomenon. Mostly I miss the way you whisper in my ear at night and in the early morning. I miss running my fingers through the curls on your chest. I miss your hands and the way you touch me, both rough and gentle. I miss your scent. Last week I washed the bed sheets and when I laid down to sleep that night, the bed no longer smelled like you. I started crying and woke the baby up. That was a bad night all around. I miss the way you make me laugh. I miss your eyes and the way you look at me. I miss your lips and the way you kiss me. I miss the way you love me. I just miss you.

William eats well and he sleeps well, still waking up every three hours or so. I try to nap whenever I can. When I play the CD of your voice on the living room stereo, he’ll stop crying. I stopped at the post office in Alexandria yesterday morning on my way to visit my mother. The finger puppets you sent are a big hit. William loves them. And so does my mother, actually. They played with the puppets a lot yesterday. He coos and gurgles when I run my fingers up the soles of his feet. I think he’s going to be very ticklish, unfortunately, just like me. It’s a Scully curse. We’ve all got it. William started laughing when Mom put the puppets on her fingers and danced them in front of him. Most babies don’t start laughing out loud until they’re at least three or four months old. He’s already making deliberate reaches for objects, whether it’s a toy or my hair. He’s only three weeks old. I don’t know what to make of it. It worries me.

My mom helps out as much as she can, or as much as I’ll allow her to. I tried explaining our situation the best I could, and I think she understands. But she’s always asking about you, asking if I’ve heard from you, if I know when you’ll be back. She wants to talk about it, but I just can’t. But whenever I’m at home by myself with the baby, I wish someone was there with me. And whenever my mother is there or Jennifer, I wish I was alone again. I just wish you were here with me. Nothing feels right without you. It’s like a constant knot in my stomach.

Attached are pictures of William playing with the finger puppets. There’s also one of him eating my hair.

*******************************************

Scully’s words made Mulder’s heart swell as if it was going burst inside his chest, but they also made his loneliness even more bitterly felt. He ached for her, as he’d never ached for anything before. He wanted her so much. He wanted to hold her and soothe away her fears. He wanted to make love to her, and put light and life back into their souls.

Mulder grabbed the mouse and opened the attached photos, smiling at his beautiful son. A staff member walked by and he asked her if there was a printer available. She pointed out the printer on the table in front of the large window looking out to the street, and Mulder thanked her. He printed off the attached pictures, before retrieving them and carrying them back to the table where he sat. He clicked on the ‘Reply’ button on Scully’s email, but then found himself staring at the screen, a lump growing in his throat and tears pricking his eyes. So he did what he does best, and deflected his feelings with a joke.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: trust_no1@mail.com  
To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
Date: Jan 22, 2001

William still looks like Skinner to me, and I’m beginning to doubt your rather feeble assurances of fidelity. I think the only logical solution is that the three of us go on the Maury Povich show and hash this thing out.

Try not to be too concerned that he’s ahead of the development curve. You read Simone de Beauvoir to the kid when you were pregnant. What were you expecting? Maybe you should’ve stuck to Dr. Seuss. He’s a smart boy, and with any luck he’ll have your brains and my sense of humor.

Is he still doing the thing with the mobile? I wish I could tell you that I’ve found some answers, that I’m actually accomplishing things while away from you. Truth is, I don’t even know where to start. More than ever, I believe William can’t possibly be one of those Super Soldiers belonging to the government, or some human replacement like Billy Miles. If William is an answer to our prayers, why were those prayers answered? If he has certain abilities, why does he? It’s clear that those working against us believe his birth significant, and I don’t know if we can ever learn the truth of what they believe his importance is. But if there is a larger reason behind all this, if past circumstances or choices we made caused this to happen, then the chain of events must begin somewhere.

Dana, maybe the only truth we can ever hope to know is the truth we already know. I love you, and you love me. And that is the only reason William is here, the only reason that matters. I don’t know what our enemies intend by forcing our separation, but this is the one truth they can’t take away from us. No matter what happens, the ties that bind the three of us together will never be truly broken.

I’d go into detail about everything I miss about you, but then my jeans would become rather tight and things would get very embarrassing for me. There are women and children in here.

*******************************************

After departing Hopi Coffee Bean, Mulder and Gibson merged onto highway US-89 and headed north towards the Navajo Indian Reservation.

*****

Two and a half hours after they departed Flagstaff, Mulder and Gibson arrived in the small town of Kayenta, with a population around 5,000 people. After finding the Monument Valley Motel some distance from the main highway, on a quiet street away from heavy traffic areas, they went out in search of a local place to get something to eat.

Sitting themselves at a table in the back of Amigo Diner, they ordered a late lunch. Not long after ordering, a waitress brought their burgers and fries to the table. 

"Um, excuse me, do you know if there is any public access to the Internet in town?" Mulder asked her.

"The Kayenta Community Library has a couple computers with the Internet," she answered. "But I think that's it."

Mulder nodded and thanked her, and then he and Gibson began eating their lunch in companionable silence. After a few minutes, Gibson looked up at the man sitting across the table, staring at him.

"What is it?" asked Mulder, after he had popped a French fry into his mouth.

But before Gibson could answer, a Native American man who looked to be in his 40's was standing at their table, looking down at them. Mulder looked up at the man, taking in his reddish skin tone, long black hair held back in a ponytail, dressed in blue jeans and a plaid button down shirt. The man then crouched beside the table until he was at eye level with Mulder.

"Are you planning on staying in town for a while or are you just passing through?" asked the man.

"I don't really know yet," Mulder replied apprehensively.

The man nodded. "You won't find much entertainment on the Rez. But if you're interested, the Black Widow's is a decent underground place in town. Only one for miles. Come around if you'd like a drink."

Mulder blinked, pausing briefly. "I thought it was illegal to serve alcohol on the reservation."

"It is," he replied, grinning. "That's why I said 'underground.' It's the best worst kept secret in town. You'll soon learn there aren't really any secrets here, if you haven't figured that out already."

Glancing quickly over at Gibson, Mulder felt a bit uneasy but the boy didn't give him any sign that something was wrong. "So Black Widow is the name of the place?" he asked the man.

The Native American chuckled. "No, Black Widow isn’t a what. It’s a _she_. The place is on Hozohni Way, near your motel on Monument Valley Boulevard. Opens at nine o'clock and closes at two."

The man then walked away, and Mulder turned his head sharply to look at Gibson. “How…?”

“The owner of the motel told him we were staying there,” he said. “The guy is just trying to bring in business for the illegal bar.”

Mulder sighed, rolling his eyes.

“You should go,” Gibson told him, taking a sip from his Coca-Cola.

“What?” he asked, looking at him incredulously. “I have no interest in hanging out in a bar. Particularly an illegal one where I could be arrested for the simple reason of just being on the premises.”

Gibson stared at him, shaking his head. “I didn’t get the impression from that guy’s thoughts or the fact that he didn’t even bother to lower his voice when mentioning the place that he’s worried about law enforcement.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “You need to make friends with these people. If you want to stay here for longer than a week, you’ll need to be welcomed into the community. The community can help us stay as hidden as possible. They’ll also need to trust you _before_ you start asking questions about how to find the Anasazi.” He then stopped, realizing the irony of his pushing Mulder to make friends there.

Mulder sighed, knowing the boy was right. Perhaps a place like an illegal, underground bar was a good place to pick up information, hear the retelling of old myths and legends by gregarious drunks, and measure the atmosphere of the town, the current attitudes of the Navajo people. Remembering a time in the past when he’d been in their company, he knew that he had liked them, that he felt forever indebted to the Navajos for what they had done for him. But that was almost six years ago, and many things could've changed in that time.

Just before 10:00 pm, Mulder drove a mile down the road from the motel and turned right onto Hozohni Way. There were several cars and pickup trucks parked on both sides of the street in front of a closed-down restaurant. It was dark and looked like it hadn’t been in business for years, but a light was coming from an open doorway on the left side of the building. Mulder guessed that the doorway led to a bar in the basement. He parked on the curb in front of the Video Plus movie rental store next door. He then handed the keys to Gibson, telling him to keep the doors locked and not to get out of the car unless it was an emergency.

As Mulder made his way towards the entrance to the bar, he knew he’d found the place he was looking for. As he got closer, he could hear blues music wafting out from the open doorway. Reaching the side of the building and walking down two concrete steps, Mulder stepped inside and immediately the cloud of cigarette smoke made his eyes burn. Strings of white Christmas lights hung over the bar, the brightest area in an otherwise semi-darkened establishment. The same lights were also strung up from corner to corner along the ceiling. Despite its illegality, he thought the place wasn’t trying all that hard to be inconspicuous.

“Coming through,” someone barked behind him.

Mulder stepped aside and two men carrying crates of bootlegged liquor walked through the doorway. He watched them maneuver through the bar and disappear behind a blue painted door on the other side of the large room. There was a mixture of clientele inside, although the non-Navajos were largely outnumbered. The Native American man from the diner earlier approached Mulder with a big smile on his face.

“Hello again,” he said, greeting him with an outstretched hand. “I don’t think I gave you my name earlier. Tim Yazzie.”

“Nice to meet you,” replied Mulder, shaking his hand but refraining from giving a name. “So where’s this Black Widow person you were talking about?”

Tim chuckled, and tilted his bead towards the bar. “She’s back there bartending.”

Mulder nodded. He looked at the bar, but it was too crowded to see the woman behind it clearly. “Black Widow isn’t her real name, is it?”

Laughing, Tim shook his head. “No, that’s just what everyone calls her. I don’t suppose you’re familiar with the mating habits of black widows?”

“I’m, uh, pretty sure the females kill and eat their mates,” replied Mulder. “Right?”

“Yep,” Tim said, smirking, and then turned to see some of his friends approach them. He smiled and greeted them warmly.

Mulder’s curiosity piqued about how the bartender got stuck with the Black Widow moniker, but he refrained from asking nosy questions and merely nodded. He glanced quickly over the men who’d joined them, appearing to be only in their mid-late 20’s. “So what’s her real name?”

Tim turned away from his laughing friends and looked back at Mulder. “Valerie Hosteen.”

Eyes widening, he stared at Tim with his mouth slightly agape. “Is she related to Albert?”

Tim and the other Native American men immediately quieted and stilled, staring intensely at Mulder. “How do you know Albert?” Tim asked, his eyes squinting, brows knitting in suspicion.

In that moment, going with his gut feelings and remembering Gibson’s words about the safety provided by a community, Mulder decided to trust them. “He saved my life several years ago.”

The men turned to stare at one another in shock, and then back to Mulder, speechless.

“Hey, Val!” Tim shouted towards the bar. But the music and the conversation were too loud, and he turned to one of his companions. “Go get Black Widow.”

Mulder watched the young man walk with purpose to the bar, squeezing between patrons and leaning over to speak with the woman behind it. He then walked just as quickly back, standing next to Tim. From the far side of the bar appeared a woman, tall, slender, and young, Mulder guessing she was nowhere near 30 years of age. Navigating through the crowded bar to where they stood near the entrance was this beautiful young woman known to everyone by the name Black Widow. She was walking towards them, with bright chestnut brown eyes, rosy full lips, finely shaped dark eyebrows, and long sweeping eyelashes, over-arched by long waves of the most luxuriant dark brown hair. Mulder thought she’d jumped out of the pages of history books, but her body language made it clear she was no delicate Indian princess.

She stopped in front of them, and the men waited for her to speak. With a hard look and narrowed eyes, she directed her focus on Mulder. “You say my grandfather saved your life? How?” she asked, a marked edge to her voice.

Mulder knew she was not a woman you’d want to cross, and decided to be as straightforward as possible. “I was as good as dead, but he performed the Blessing Way Ceremony and I was healed.”

Valerie Hosteen and the men gathered around Mulder balked, their eyes going wide and their mouths falling open. “You’re the FBI man,” she breathed.

“We knew you were coming!” said one of the young men excitedly as the others nodded.

Mulder looked at him, his brows furrowing in confusion, and turned back to Albert Hosteen’s granddaughter.

“There was an omen, about three weeks ago,” she explained. “On New Year’s Eve. A bright star appeared in the sky, a star we’ve never seen before and haven’t seen since. A couple days later word came from our brothers up north that a white buffalo calf was born that night on the Mountain Wind Reservation.”

“We knew you were coming,” reiterated another young Navajo man, nodding enthusiastically.

Valerie crossed her arms, and then smirked at them. “Well… if you believe in that shit.” She sighed, and looked back at Mulder. “Why are you here?”

Mulder stared at their expectant faces, wondering what he should say. His mind raced, trying to grasp what Albert Hosteen’s granddaughter had just told him. That light he’d seen in the sky, that light that had led him to Scully and William, they’d seen it in the Arizona sky as well? Was it an omen? And an omen of what, exactly?

“There is someone with me, a teenage boy, who needs protection,” Mulder replied. “We are facing a lethal enemy, who could strike at any time, an enemy it is impossible to stop. Until I find some answers, the only thing that can be done right now is to remain hidden. I didn’t really know where else to go.”

Tim looked from Mulder to Valerie. “We should inform the Tribal Council.”

She nodded. “I’ll call my father in the morning.” Valerie Hosteen then turned to Mulder. “Do you and the boy have a safe place to stay tonight?”

“We’re staying at the Monument Valley Motel,” he replied. “Is, uh… is that a safe place?”

“I hope so,” she retorted, arching an eyebrow at him. “For your sake. It normally is. I guess it all depends on whether this lethal enemy of yours has followed you here.”

With a slight look of anxious disapproval, she turned and walked back to the bar, Mulder staring after her.


	106. "You are prepared to accept the truth, aren't you? To sacrifice yourself to it."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder meets with the Navajo Nation Tribal Council concerning himself and Gibson, but finds refuge comes with a cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kings of Leon - "Last Mile Home" (acoustic)
> 
> Take it back, I never meant it  
> Never thought that it would come to pass  
> Baby, know it's not forgotten  
> Baby, know that this is gonna last
> 
> By and large I had it coming  
> I recall the tremble in your eye  
> I just want to make you better  
> I just want to make it right
> 
> Dreaming on the last mile home  
> Dreaming on the last mile home  
> Things are always better  
> When we're all together  
> I'm dreaming on the last mile home
> 
> Tell me that the bar is drinking  
> And the lights are swinging in the smoke  
> I'm a fool for conversation  
> And I've got nowhere to go
> 
> Dreaming on the last mile home  
> Dreaming on the last mile home  
> Things are always better  
> When we're all together  
> I'm dreaming on the last mile home
> 
> Dreaming on the last mile home  
> Dreaming on the last mile home  
> Things are always better  
> When we're all together  
> I'm dreaming on the last mile home
> 
> Maybe I'm the one that's broken  
> Maybe I'm the breaker of the heart  
> It's been so long since we have spoken  
> It's been long, and baby it's been hard
> 
> Dreaming on, dreaming on

Mulder laid awake in his double bed inside the darkened room he shared with Gibson Praise at the Monument Valley Motel in Kayenta, Arizona. Sleep wasn’t coming easily. He was informed the night before that he would be meeting with the Navajo Nation Tribal Council in the morning. If they didn’t allow him and Gibson sanctuary there, he didn’t know what he would do, where he would go.

He wondered if he and Scully would be able to find a way to be together, to start a new life somewhere. A life with Scully felt like a life he was destined to lead. The events that culminated in their being assigned to work together, the truths and mysteries their work had revealed, the losses and gains, their friendship and their love, their son, all seemed so intertwined, almost predestined. But what was the provenance? The decisions of his parents all those years ago? Or could the origin be traced back farther? What set the course of his life moving? And Scully’s? Did they meet merely by chance? Or had the universe conspired to bring them together? Was there some higher power pulling the strings? But then what of choice and free will? Wasn’t his fate in his own hands? Weren’t the choices his to make?

He remembered something Scully had said to him, almost a year ago, and he felt a slight sense of shock over the passage of time. _“_ _What if there was only one choice and all the other ones were wrong? And there were signs along the way to pay attention to.”_ Mulder had avoided answering the question seriously. Maybe he shouldn’t have. Maybe it was all fated, was a destiny they were supposed to achieve. But it was up to them to reach for it, to make the right decisions, to take control of their own fate.

But the more time went by, the more Mulder wondered if leaving Scully and William behind had been the wrong choice. Had there been signs telling him the way in which he should go? It was impossible to tell right now. He could only hope that he had done the right thing, and that he would find some way to remove the dangers keeping them apart, that he would be able to go home and reclaim his family. That was the only outcome he was prepared to accept. Any other was too painful to even consider.

Yet, there were moments, especially late at night and lying awake in a darkened motel room, feeling lonely and depressed, when Mulder couldn’t stop himself from ruminating over worst case scenarios. The thought of never seeing Scully again filled him with dread, never again seeing William felt more disturbing than anything he had previously experienced, and his chest ached at the very idea. There were moments when he felt on the verge of weeping bitterly, like he had that first night he’d arrived in Tucson, but he steadfastly fought back the tears and bottled them up. He couldn’t break down and weep now. Gibson needed protecting, and Mulder had to find some answers, he needed to know the truth.

Finally, sleep came.

_Mulder was walking down the familiar sandy beach. He hadn’t been there in so long, not since before his abduction. White, puffy clouds stood out against the blue sky, and the sun was shining; it’s warmth comforting to him. He could smell the salt in the air, and he gazed out to his left at the ocean, feeling completely at peace. As he walked further along the shore, his eyes caught sight of the large UFO made out of sand and he smiled, wondering if the eight year old boy was there._

_Reaching the UFO, Mulder stepped around it to see the young boy crouched down, hard at work building the sand craft. He was dressed the same as always, in white socks and sneakers, khaki cargo shorts, and charcoal gray polo shirt. Beside the boy on the sand were the purple and yellow pails, and he watched the boy take some wet sand from the purple beach pail, adding it to the UFO he was forming. Mulder smiled again. The boy, noticing the arrival of a shadow, stood up and turned to face him._

_A cloud moved out past the sun and it shone even brighter, its light making the gold flecks in his big, blue eyes stand out. The boy’s light brown hair glinted with gold and copper in the sunshine. Mulder stared, his eyes widening and his mouth slightly falling open, realization dawning. The boy smiled and quickly crossed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around his father._

_Mulder dropped to his knees on the sand, kneeling in front of the boy, and gently held his face within his hands. His eyes searched the boy’s face, drinking him in. “William,” he whispered._

_The boy smiled. “Yes.”_

_“Do you know who I am?” Mulder asked, his eyebrows furrowing with worry as he wondered just how long he’d been away from his son._

_William smiled again, and nodded, before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Mulder’s neck._

_He heaved a sigh of relief, and tightly hugged his son. “Oh, my boy,” he breathed, eyes closing, his hand moving up into his son’s hair. Mulder then pulled back to look at him again. He didn’t want to stop looking at him. But then something else entered his mind, and his heart swelled, full to bursting. “Is she here?” he whispered fervently._

_Smiling, William turned and pointed past the UFO, Mulder’s eyes following in that direction until he caught sight of Scully sitting on the grass with her bare feet in the sand. He quickly stood up, heart pounding in his chest, and he walked over to her while holding onto William’s hand. She smiled and got to her feet, stepping towards him. Her hair was longer than he remembered, and her twinkling eyes were a radiant shade of blue. Letting go of his son’s hand, he pulled Scully into his arms and kissed her._

_“Let’s go,” she whispered._

_“Where?”_

_Scully smiled. “To be alone.”_

_Mulder glanced down at William, who smiled and started walking back towards the sand UFO. “But… we can’t leave him. What if something happens? What if someone takes him?”_

_“No one is going to take him,” she replied. “We have him now.” His brows furrowed. 'Now?' What did that mean?  Just as he started to recall a vague memory of the boy at a younger age in the care of a couple he didn't know, she took Mulder by the hand. “Come on, let’s go. I know what you need.”_

_Scully then led him down the path through the trees to a sunlit, grassy clearing. They’d been there before. She lied down on the grass and then he was on top of her, pressing his body into hers. She arched her back and parted her legs, Mulder settling between them. They were suddenly stripped of their clothes, and in a matter of seconds he was filling her completely. She was hot and wet and tight around him. She had been right; this was exactly what he’d wanted and needed. He began to thrust quickly, alive and pulsing inside her as his lips devoured hers. She was so soft, and tasted so sweet. He was thrusting harder and harder, she was moaning his name louder, and then waves of pleasure washed over him._

_“Scully, I love you,” he moaned, resting his forehead against hers. “I love you. I love you.”_

_She smiled and stroked his face. She opened her mouth to reply, but then everything started to fade. He felt blind panic. “No, don’t go. Don’t leave me! I need you!” But she was fading away along with the soft grassy floor, the trees, and the sunshine, and he began to cry._

Mulder opened his eyes, blinking at the ceiling. He was breathing heavily, trying to remember the details of the dream, but it was as useless as trying to prevent sand from slipping through his fingers. Slowly awakening to other sensations, he reached down to find his dick hard as rock, his boxer briefs wet and sticky. Fucking great. With a quick glance over at the other double bed, feeling thankful its occupant was still asleep, Mulder hurriedly made his way into the bathroom. He then jumped into the shower, turning on the cold water, a melancholic emptiness rising up from the pit of his stomach, taking hold in his chest.

*****

On Wednesday, January 24th, just before 10:00 am, Mulder and Gibson pulled into the parking lot of the Kayenta Town Hall, which housed the village and township government offices, the township’s health department, and the Navajo Nation’s government offices for the Kayenta Chapter. Valerie Hosteen had left a message at the front desk of the Monument Valley Motel the night before, informing him that tribal elders of the sovereign Indian nation were traveling to Kayenta for the meeting.

Mulder approached the Town Hall, Gibson walking beside him, and he noticed a group of young Navajo men hanging around the doors outside, guessing they were in their late teens or early 20’s. As he got closer, one face became recognizable, and when they locked eyes, the man smiled and started walking towards him.

Smiling in return, Mulder stretched out his hand towards the young man. “Eric Hosteen. Last time I saw you, you were just a 17 year old kid riding around on that red dirt bike.”

“Mulder,” greeted Eric with a warm smile, shaking his hand enthusiastically. “Good to see you.”

“Are you here for the meeting?” Mulder asked

He nodded. “I came with my father. He’s on the Council.”

The other young men gathered around them, excited to see the FBI man again. One teenage boy, with long black hair falling loose down his shoulders, smiled and stepped forward. “We have a gift for you.”

He handed Mulder a pouch made of black cloth. He opened it and peered inside. Sunflower seeds. He chuckled, reaching with his other hand to pat the boy on the head. “Thank you.”

Mulder then walked with Gibson through the Town Hall doors, Eric Hosteen following behind them. Eric then guided them to a large meeting room, and Mulder found himself standing in front of 24 council elders, representing their municipal chapters within the states of Arizona, New Mexico, and Utah, that made up the Navajo Nation Tribal Council.

Eric crossed the room to speak to his father, Michael Hosteen, and Mulder turned to look down at Gibson. “Is the mood in this room telling you anything?”

Gibson glanced around at the Navajo elders, some of whom were gazing at them with interest while others whispered among themselves. He then turned back to Mulder. “You’ll have to tell them everything.”

He sighed. Mulder had been hoping to find some way to leave Scully and William out of it, to focus on the need to protect Gibson instead of himself. Michael Hosteen then approached them, smiling, and warmly greeted Mulder. The last time they’d spoken, it was when Mulder had called Michael to ask after Albert, only to find that he’d died after being in a coma, making it physically impossible for him to have been inside Scully’s apartment.

The elders then took their seats and watched as Mulder and Gibson stood before them. All of them wore their hair in traditional braids going part way down their backs. None of the men were younger than 50 years of age. The oldest member of the council, Chester Nez, stood up and looked at Mulder.

“Okay FBI man, we are ready to hear you now.”

The council listened with stoic faces, not betraying any emotion, as Mulder recounted the story of William’s miraculous conception and the circumstances surrounding his birth, the ominous threats that had driven him from his home in Washington, leading to his need to find Gibson and their eventual arrival on the Navajo Indian Reservation.

The men then focused their attention on Gibson, and council member Samuel Kinsel spoke. “Where are your parents?”

“I don’t know,” Gibson replied.

“Are they alive?” Samuel asked.

He paused, considering. “I think so, but I can’t say for sure.”

Samuel looked at him a moment. “Would you like to find them? Go back to them?”

“No,” Gibson said firmly.

“And why is that?” asked Samuel, while the other council members stared fixedly at the teenage boy standing beside Mulder.

He sighed. “They gave me away, sold me into the hands of an evil man.” Mulder sighed, eyes closing. Hatred for Cancer Man still burned like a flame in his chest, even though the man was most likely dead. He didn’t think he’d ever stop hating him.

Samuel paused, and exchanged glances with some other members. “Why would they do this?”

“He offered them a large sum of money,” replied Gibson. “I believe he also threatened them.”

“But what interest did this man have in you?” Samuel asked.

Mulder was demanding that Gibson not say too much, not wanting the kid to tell those Navajo elders that he could read their every thought. They were bound to get themselves kicked off the reservation. Only a very slight shake of the head showed that he made any kind of acknowledgment to Mulder’s silent pleas.

“He wanted to perform tests on me,” Gibson said. “He cut my head open, to try and find answers, to learn why I am the way I am, for his own use.”

“Why? What is so different about you?” spoke up Michael Hosteen.

With a quick glance at Mulder, whose eyes were closing in defeat, he turned to look Chester Nez in the eye. “Because I can read minds. I can communicate with the Anaye. And it is the Anaye that we need to hide from.”

Mulder’s eyes flew open. Anaye? What the hell was that? He looked over the Tribal Council, and for the first time since this meeting began their stoicism was faltering.

“The Anaye?” Chester Nez repeated, wide-eyed.

Ignoring Mulder’s frantic thoughts wondering what the hell he was doing, Gibson stared intently at the council members. “The Skinchangers of the Anaye are the ones who were sent after Agent Scully and her child. It’s because of these Skinchangers that we are in danger.”

Turning his head in shocked disapproval, Mulder gave Gibson a look of incredulity. Skinchangers? And then his face went blank, and he shot the boy a sarcastic look. Of course. The book of Native American myths and legends that Gibson’s nose had been stuck in for over a week. How was that going to help them? They needed the Navajo Tribal Council to take them seriously.

The council then began whispering among themselves, ignoring Mulder and Gibson for a moment. “Anaye?” he sardonically asked his young companion, keeping his voice low.

“Yeah, alien gods,” replied Gibson matter-of-factly. “What? It’s the truth.”

“It’s just a story, Gibson.”

He sighed. “Even if it is just a myth, _they_ put a lot of stock in it.” He then turned sharply towards the council, hearing words of skepticism and wariness from some of the members. Gibson raised his voice towards the group of huddled elders. “The spirit of Albert Hosteen visited Agent Scully and told her that Mulder needed to be saved for the sake of mankind.”

The Navajo Tribal Council froze, turning wide-eyed stares in Gibson’s direction. They then looked to Mulder, who nodded his affirmation of what the boy just said, before turning back to the teenage boy. “The plague is coming,” Gibson said earnestly. “The sixth extinction, the end of the Fourth World. He is the man who can save us from it.”

Sighing, Mulder raised his eyes to look up at the ceiling, shaking his head slightly, as the council members began whispering among themselves for a few minutes. Then Chester Nez stood again, and spoke to Mulder.

“You know some of our ways, and it appears this boy with you knows more about the old ways than some of our own young people. Albert Hosteen helped you before, believed your life worth saving by the Holy People. The Blessing Way Ceremony is not lightly performed, and not everyone is worthy. Albert believed you to be worthy. Years ago he left the reservation, traveled far from his homeland to your capital, to help you and the FBI woman. Even though Albert has since moved on, perhaps he helps you still. It seems to us that you and the FBI woman have a spirit guide, and a powerful one. Maybe you have been led to our sacred ground for protection. You have earned a place among us, as one of us.”

A sense of blessed relief filled Mulder, and he sincerely thanked them. The expression on the face of Chester Nez turned even more serious, and Gibson stared down at his feet, eyebrows furrowing, knowing what was coming next.

“Your identities, while they no doubt will become known among our people, will not be spoken of to strangers or to anyone outside the boundaries of our land. We have always met our enemies with bravery in our hearts, and our actions. However, you have come here bringing significant peril to the safety of our people. If you are to stay here among us, under our protection, we demand that you do not endanger our people further. This means that while you are here, you are to remain within our borders. Crossing in and out of our territory will not be permitted. Any contact with the outside world is forbidden, through use of the telephone or the computer. We do not want the enemy finding you and following you here. If you abide by these conditions, we will keep you hidden, you and your young friend, for as long as you need.”

Mulder stared at Chester Nez, his heart sinking into his stomach. He wouldn’t be allowed to contact Scully? His guts churned with anxiety and fear, feeling helpless. He didn’t want to cut himself off from Scully, but this was probably his best chance for survival, not to mention Gibson’s as well. And Mulder certainly didn’t want the Navajo people to come to any harm.

He then nodded his agreement to their stipulations, even though knowing he would no longer be able to communicate with Scully filled with a deep sense of dismay and despair. Gibson looked up at Mulder, who turned to face him, and all thoughts of his own little vexations and troubles were instantly banished from his mind. He could only see the man’s sad eyes, full of kindness and concern for him, of grief that he should be barred from talking to Agent Scully, and of grim resignation to his current lot in life. Gibson thought the look on Mulder’s face was somehow like the piteous look of a wounded animal, incapable of expressing just how much pain it was in.

The Tribal Council also decided that Mulder and Gibson would move out of the Monument Valley Motel and into the Manuelito Mobile Park. There was a furnished double wide trailer that had been empty for some time, and they decided that this was where Mulder would stay. The community would then be better able to look out for them. Just before leaving the Town Hall, Mulder received permission from the Tribal Council to send one last message to Scully.

*****

Departing Kayenta, Mulder took the two and half hour drive back down south to Flagstaff, leaving Gibson behind with Eric Hosteen and his friends. Returning to the Hopi Coffee Bean, he quickly sat down at one of the tables and signed into his email account.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
To: trust_no1@mail.com  
Date: Jan 23, 2001

I have no idea where your suspicions about Skinner even originated from, so I’m just going to ignore your baseless remarks. Byers says that the baby looks like you, and Frohike says he looks like me, and then Langly said he looks like Jean-Luc Picard. So there you have the Gunmen’s well-informed opinions. But William is definitely going to have your mouth. I can already tell. I’m sure he’ll look like you plenty as he gets older. I think the real debate is whether he’s going to have your height, or mine. Maybe somewhere in the middle.

Yes, he’s still spinning the mobile on his own. But nothing else has happened, or shown itself to be strange. William is really a very easy baby. He continues to eat and sleep just as he should. He still loves your finger puppets, and is constantly sticking them in his mouth. I’ve started a journal about all his changes since you left, so that when you get back you’ll hopefully feel like you haven’t missed out on too much.

I’ve decided to go back to work sooner than planned. Initially, taking the full allotment of 12 weeks for my maternity leave sounded wonderful. But that was when I thought you’d be here with me. I can no longer just sit around at home by myself, constantly wondering where you are, how you are, if you’re trouble, if you’re hurt and need help. I’m going crazy. I need to be doing something. I talked to George, and I’m starting my position at Quantico as Lead Forensic Investigator on the 5th, the first Monday in February. I also start teaching at the Academy. Mom is going to watch William while I’m at work. So don’t worry, he’ll never be left with strangers.

Are you making any progress? I hope you’re being safe and taking care of yourself. I miss you every moment of every day.

*******************************************

Mulder stared at the screen. It was the last email he could send her, at least for right now. But he had no idea just how long it would be before he could speak to her again, before he’d even lay eyes on her again. And what if that day never came? What if, for the rest of his life, he was never to see or speak to her again? What if this truly was the last message he could possibly send to her?

He grabbed the mouse, and clicked on the ‘Reply’ button to Scully’s email.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: trust_no1@mail.com  
To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
Date: Jan 24, 2001

I know this will sound ridiculous coming from me, but keep your nose clean and don’t get involved with things you shouldn’t when you start work. Like the X-Files, for one. Don’t let Doggett drag you into anything. Please.

I also know firsthand just how mentally stimulating your scientific monologues are, so you might want to be mindful of the physical stimulation this may cause among your young students. I’m now picturing you standing in front of a blackboard in a tight skirt and heels, and this does not help me.

As far as making progress goes, I’m not sure. I might be on my way to finding some answers, but I don’t know just how much of a challenge it might be to attain them. I’ve found a stable community to hide for now, but regular contact with the world outside could possibly put lives in danger. Hell, I could probably even be putting your life in danger, and William’s, just by these emails. I’m afraid it is no longer safe for me to contact you right now, and I don’t know when it will be safe again.

Walking away from you and William was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my entire life. Staying away is proving increasingly difficult. I keep telling myself that I’m doing it for reasons that are right and for your own good, for William’s. But I constantly feel like I’ve let you both down. I just want you to be safe. Sometimes at night, if the room doesn’t reek too badly of stale cigarette smoke, I can close my eyes and remember the sweet scent of your skin, and William’s clean, new-human smell. But it’s not the same. It never will be unless we can be together again.

I know I keep promising you that I’ll come home, that I’ll be home as soon as I’m able, and I don’t want to be made out a liar. I’m doing the best I can, and every day I have to fight the overwhelming urge to just pack up and come home, to take back this decision we made. But love doesn't mean anything unless there's something worth fighting for, and you and William are the only thing keeping me in this fight. So how could I come home empty-handed? With no answers, no explanations, no protections for us? The right thing is often the hardest thing to do, and I hope that as William grows up he’ll come to understand all this. I hope that we’ve done the right thing. I don’t know what the future holds for him, what the world will be like when he’s older, or what kind of role he will have in it. But I do know that any child would be lucky to have you as a mother, and that William will grow into a fine man with you there to guide him.

Dana, no matter what happens from here on out, you will always be my constant, my touchstone.

*******************************************

As Mulder drove the 150 miles back to Kayenta from Flagstaff late on Wednesday afternoon, tears streamed down his face. He started to realize it was a fruitless exercise to make promises. He wished he could promise Scully and William the world, it was nothing more than what they deserved. But maybe it simply wasn’t their fate, their destiny, to live in a world free from darkness. Every time they seemed on the verge of a normal life, either by giving up the X-Files or having a family, a simple existence was cruelly snatched away from them. And it killed Mulder inside, knowing they’d brought an innocent life into this world, only to inevitably put him through hell.

Driving through the town of Kayenta, heading towards the Monument Valley Motel, Mulder daydreamed of a time when he would be with his family, when all three would safe, and happy, and together, desperately hoping his dreams would one day become a reality, wondering if he was really prepared to accept any other fate.

*****

At 6:10 pm, Mulder pulled into the lot of the motel, parking in front of room Number 21. After unlocking the door and stepping inside, he saw that Gibson wasn’t there. A small sense of panic filled him, and he walked back outside, looking around the property of the motel. He knew that he could trust Eric Hosteen and the other boys with Gibson, but what if he really had been followed by these Super Soldiers or alien replicants? What if that ship and the alien bounty hunter came for them again?

But Mulder’s anxieties proved groundless. Just before 6:30, he caught sight of Gibson walking up the road and turning into the motel parking lot accompanied by Valerie Hosteen and a Navajo boy with long dark hair, the ends almost reaching his elbows. Mulder walked a bit towards them, attempting to cross the distance between them, and stood by the trunk of the Camaro. Despite his worries, Mulder was starting to believe that he and Gibson were truly safe with the Navajo.

“You all right?” he asked Gibson as they approached.

“Yeah,” Gibson replied.

Mulder nodded. “Where’s Eric?”

Valerie crossed her arms defensively as she stood back a few feet from them. This was the first time Mulder had seen her in the daylight. She was standing there, with her tall, dominant frame and sleek, natural beauty, penetrating brown eyes above high cheekbones, wearing a white blousy tunic, with a blue and taupe Navajo print around the neckline, along the sleeves, and at the hem, falling almost to the bottom of snug white shorts that stopped just above mid-thigh level of her long, reddish-brown legs. Her feet were donned with white tennis shoes, and just above her left ankle was a tattoo of a paw print. Mulder thought it looked like a dog’s. Her right ankle was adorned with a black widow tattoo.

“My brother returned to New Mexico with our father.” She paused, looking him over with a steely glint in her eyes. “So you’re the one who’s going to save the world, huh?”

Pursing his lips, Mulder turned a look of disapproval on Gibson, who merely shrugged and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets.

She smirked, before her face once again became stern. “The boy didn’t say much. My father told me some of what was said in the Tribal Council. You are putting lives in danger by being here. This _lethal enemy_ of yours could follow you here. It may know you’re here already. Who is going to protect our people?”

“It’s not my intention to endanger anyone,” Mulder replied. “I’m hoping I won’t have to stay here long. I just need to find some answers.”

“We need to find the Anasazi,” Gibson said to her.

Valerie’s eyes widened, giving them an incredulous look, heaving out a breath of disbelief. “The… the Anasazi?” She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Good luck finding them, and if you do, good luck getting them to talk to you. They don’t speak English. Or Navajo.”

“You know where to find them, Val,” spoke up the Indian boy, who looked no older than 16 years of age. “Your grandfather taught you how to speak their language. I know you remember it.”

“And who told you that?” she asked him, knitting her eyebrows at him.

He smirked. “Eric.” He then turned to Mulder. “Is that your car?” he asked, pointing to the blue Camaro.

Mulder nodded. “Yeah.”

“Cool,” the Navajo boy replied, and stepped closer, running his hand along the trunk.

“And what’s your name?” asked Mulder.

He turned his attention away from the car. “Cody Cloud.”

Mulder smiled. “Is that your real name?”

“Yes,” answered Cody, giving him a blank stare.

“Do people ever call you CC?” he enquired amusedly.

Cody continued staring blankly at him. “No,” he deadpanned. Gibson sniggered, staring at his shoes.

Mulder pursed his lips and nodded. “Well, okay then.” He turned to Valerie Hosteen. “Would you help me find the Anasazi? I just want to speak to someone who can explain some things.”

She shifted her feet, arms still crossed, shaking her head. “You mean about this man who will save the world from the alien gods? The miracle child? Those are just tales told to children. You’re wasting your time. And you’re sure as hell not going to waste mine.”

Crossing his arms defensively, Mulder eyed her. “If you don’t believe in these alien gods, and believe the legends to be meaningless children’s stories, then why are you afraid that I’ll be putting your people’s lives in danger? If there are no alien gods, then there surely can’t be any real threat by my being here. Right?”

Valerie chewed on her bottom lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a response, and then turned towards Cody. “Let’s go.”

Cody nodded, and then looked over at Gibson, smiling. “See you around the trailer park.”

Gibson smiled in return. “Yeah. See ya.”

This exchange between the boys made Valerie think of something, and she turned back to Mulder. “You’re going to put Gibson in school, aren’t you?”

“Uh… I honestly hadn’t thought about that,” he replied, before turning to Gibson and shrugging. “Do you want to go to school?”

Valerie rolled her eyes, shaking her head. She started to wonder who was really the adult here, whether it was the FBI man or the teenage boy.

Glancing at Cody, who gave him an encouraging nod, Gibson looked up at Mulder. “Yes, I do.”

“All right,” he replied, sighing. “We’ll get you set up in school.”

Without another word, Valerie turned and walked away, Cody Cloud following behind her.

The next morning, Thursday, January 25th, Mulder and Gibson checked out of the Monument Valley Motel, and drove down the road, turning right onto Hozohni Way, driving past the Black Widow’s illegal bar, and made another right turn onto Manuelito Parkway. They soon were pulling into the Manuelito Mobile Park. The 15-acre ‘park’ consisted of 50 mobile homes on their own lots, all within a half-mile from one another. After speaking to the property manager, Samuel Holiday, a middle-aged Navajo man with graying hair, Mulder received the keys to trailer Number 42E.

Driving the Camaro through the mobile park and finding Road E, Mulder turned and drove the short ways to trailer number 42, parking in the lot next to it. He briefly wondered if the number 42 was a good sign, or a bad one. The manufactured double-wide mobile home had gray siding with white trim, white shutters around the windows, a large screened porch in the front, and a metal railing going up the three concrete steps leading to the porch door.

Gibson followed Mulder onto the porch, and after Mulder unlocked the front door, they stepped inside the trailer and into the living room. The place looked very clean, and with a sense of relief, neither Mulder nor Gibson could detect any signs of cigarette smoke clinging to the carpeted floor or the walls. Walking through the living room and dining room, they stepped onto the laminated floor of the kitchen. The sky blue laminate counters held a microwave, toaster, and coffee maker. The refrigerator and freezer appeared to be working fine as well as the electric stove and oven, and the faucet over the sink.

Stepping out of the kitchen and into the dining area, containing a circular wooden table with four matching chairs, they turned left and entered a hallway of the same laminate flooring as the kitchen. At the end of the hallway was the bathroom, clean and functional with a bath tub shower. On either side of the hallway was a door leading to a bedroom.

The door on the right led to the smaller of the two rooms. The floor was carpeted and there was a double bed, along with a wooden dresser to match the bedframe, and a closet. There was a door leading to the bathroom. The window looked out the front of the trailer to the porch. The bedroom on the left was the master, containing similar carpeted flooring, a queen-sized bed, wooden dresser, bedside tables, and walk-in closet. The master bedroom also had a door leading to the shared bathroom.

Mulder and Gibson felt fairly content with the living arrangement, glad to leave the motels behind. On Friday morning, Mulder drove to the nearby Monument Valley High School, where Gibson was registered and placed into the ninth grade class. He would start school on Monday.

On Saturday night, January 27th, Mulder departed the trailer, leaving Gibson and Cody inside watching television. He walked through the mobile park to the entrance with the large white sign with Manuelito Mobile Park, 280 Manuelito Parkway in black lettering. He then made his way towards Hozohni Way, and five minutes later he was approaching the entrance to the basement bar just before 10:00 pm.

Mulder found an empty stool at the far end of the bar, and a minute later Valerie Hosteen was walking down to the end.

“So, what do you want?” she asked him, with a no-nonsense expression on her face.

He laughed sarcastically. “What do I want?” Mulder sighed. He wanted his son. He wanted Scully. He wanted to hear her voice, and taste her skin. Now he couldn’t even email her. “I can’t have what a want. So I’ll take some shots instead.” He watched her expression suddenly soften a little, and her full lips curved into a slight smile.

“And what would you like?” she responded. “Tequila? Vodka? Gin?”

“Whiskey,” replied Mulder. “Jack Daniel’s.” He wanted it to burn.

She stared, considering him for a moment. “All right.” Valerie then grabbed three clean shot glasses, placing them in front of Mulder, and poured the liquor. He took his time with each one, in no hurry to reach his limit and return to the trailer. At least in this bar, no one could hear his every thought. After he drank down the second glass of whiskey, she noticed that the trouble that had been etched across his face started to fade, his expression relaxing.

“So, tell me about your family,” she said as she started wiping down the counter around him. “Where are your parents? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

Mulder lifted up the third shot, and chuckled. “My sister was abducted when I was 12 and she died several years later, but I didn’t learn of her death until almost a year ago. My parents are dead. My mom killed herself. My dad was murdered, uh, by the same man who took my sister.”

Valerie froze, her hand pressing the cloth to the shiny bar surface, and she slowly turned her head to stare at him, eyes widening. She had no idea what to say, compassion rising up for this man she’d begun to see as an irritation, at best, and dangerous, at worst.

He chuckled darkly, and didn’t notice the look she was giving him, downing the third shot of whiskey, before clearing his throat. “Actually, that man ended up being our biological father. He’s pretty much responsible for every terrible thing that’s ever happened to me. If he were alive, I’d probably say the shit I’m in now was his fault, too. Hell, it probably is. Why not?”

Mulder then tapped the bar, wanting more shots. Valerie only grabbed one clean glass this time, and poured the whiskey, placing it in front of him. He fingered the shot glass, turning it in circles on the bar surface. He then looked up at the Navajo woman in front of him.

“Are you even old enough to be in this place?” he asked her, his eyebrows knitting.

“For your information, I’m 27 years old,” she replied. “Which makes me quite old enough for anything you might have in mind.”

He stared at her, and felt surprised to see her grinning at him. Someone down the other end of the bar then called out for her, and she walked away from him. Mulder sat hunched over the bar, listening to the blues music emanating from the jukebox, spinning the shot glass in his hand. After a few minutes, Valerie returned to his end of the bar just as he was drinking down the fourth shot of whiskey, and Mulder asked for another. And another. And another.

He watched her as she reached below the bar for another clean shot glass, setting it down in front of him. The white tank top Valerie wore was tight, and the material fairly thin. Through the top, Mulder could tell that her nipples were both pierced with a small hoop, and he instantly felt his groin tighten. He quickly downed his eighth shot of whiskey, and dropped some cash on the bar, before getting off the stool and unsteadily walking out the door.

On Sunday morning, Mulder opened his eyes to see Gibson shaking him awake. His head pounded. He felt like his eyeballs were going to explode. He blinked, trying to take in his surroundings. The sun was shining, and he was sitting on the ground, leaning against the concrete steps in front of the porch.

“Why am I outside?” he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“I think this is where you slept,” replied Gibson. “You didn’t make it inside the house last night.”

He sighed, sitting more upright, and closed his eyes, holding his throbbing head in his hands. Mulder suddenly heard the sounds of several footsteps walking across the gravel road, and they turned to see Valerie Hosteen walking by holding a round, white laundry basket on her hip. Three big dogs with collars, all mutts, were walking at her heels.

She stopped and stared at the sight of Mulder sitting on the ground, and then threw him a sarcastic look. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t our savior. I know I’ll sleep better at night knowing the world’s future lies in your capable hands.” Valerie then rolled her eyes and continued walking back to her own mobile home, flanked by her scruffy canine companions.

They stared after her for a second in silence, before Mulder groaned and stood up. He started walking up the steps, holding onto the black metal railing.

“She likes you,” stated Gibson, starting to follow behind him. “A lot.”

Mulder scoffed, opening the door to the porch. “If she liked me any more, she’d sic those dogs on me.”

Gibson shook his head, rolling his eyes, but then turned and watched Valerie Hosteen until she was no longer in sight, wondering just how often Mulder was going to wind up at her bar.


	107. "Will we pass, as those before us, into oblivion, into the sixth extinction? Or will the mystery be revealed through a sign, a symbol, a revelation?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder heads out to find some answers that might help him, still trying to adjust to a life away from Scully and William.
> 
> Sidenote: There are three X-Files fics I would like to recommend, that have stuck in my brain over the years, that have had a lasting impact on me and served as great inspirations. 
> 
> 1) "The Mastodon Diaries" by aka Jake, winner of several 2002 Spooky Awards categories: http://akajake.net/TMD.html
> 
> 2) "Iolokus" by MustangSally & rivkat. First place winner of several 1998 Spooky Awards categories. This incredible story is here on AO3, as well as rivkat's other really good fics. Go check them out and don't forget to comment and leave kudos if you do!
> 
> 3) "Human Credentials" by Scarlet Baldy. An amazing post-FTF novel that's prompted a hell of a lot of interesting discussion over the years: http://undertherug.net/Scarlet/HumanCred.htm
> 
> There's also a more modern fic, set post-IWTB, that'll get you ready for the X-Files Revival. It's so fucking good, I wish I had written it. "The Tourists" by DiscordantWords. It's here on AO3. Go read it and don't forget to leave the author kudos on your way out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kings of Leon - "Beautiful War"
> 
> Bite your tongue  
> Don't make a scene, dear  
> Everybody's been here least once before  
> We've been here more
> 
> Your heart breaks  
> Rolls down the window  
> I've seen it all go, come back around  
> And I've heard the sound
> 
> The tip of your tongue  
> The top of your lungs is doing my head in  
> I say, "Love, love don't mean nothing  
> Unless there's something worth fighting for"  
> It's a beautiful war
> 
> When I hold  
> The warmth of your body  
> There is nobody that I'd rather hold  
> Shattered and cold
> 
> The tip of your tongue  
> The top of your lungs is making me crazy  
> I say, "Love, love don't mean nothing  
> Unless there's something worth fighting for"  
> It's a beautiful war
> 
> I say, "Love, love – it don't mean nothing  
> Unless there's something worth fighting for"  
> It's a beautiful war
> 
> It's a beautiful war  
> It's a beautiful war
> 
> I say, "Love, love..."  
> I say, "Love, love don't mean nothing  
> Unless there's something worth fighting for"
> 
> I say, "Love, love don't mean nothing  
> Unless there's something worth fighting for"
> 
> It's a beautiful war  
> It's a beautiful war

On Sunday afternoon, February 4th, Gibson was standing in front of a display inside Bashas’ Market peering through different cookbooks when Valerie Hosteen approached him carrying a small shopping basket. He turned to look at her smirking at him, in a pair of blue jeans and her dark hair pulled away from her face in a loose braid going down her back.

“You know, there is an aisle here with books and magazines that are probably more to your interests,” she said.

“Yeah,” Gibson acknowledged, nodding his head. “But I gotta learn how to cook. We can’t keep going to Burger King and McDonald’s all the time.”

She considered him a moment. “Doesn’t your friend cook?”

He snorted, flipping through the pages of Betty Crocker’s recipes. “No, I don’t think so.”

Valerie looked up to see Mulder walking towards them, before glancing back down at Gibson who was staring into the cookbook. “I thought he was the one looking after you. But it seems to me as though it’s the other way around.”

Gibson twitched his mouth, resolutely keeping his head down and not looking at her. He then sighed, turning to see Mulder approach them. “Did you find a winner?” he asked Gibson. “We can get a list together and get the stuff we need.”

“Don’t you think it’s just too much for him to be bearing this kind of responsibility?” Valerie asked Mulder. “He should be concentrating on school. Shouldn't you be the one to take charge at home? You’re supposed to be the adult. He’s a child."

“I’m 15!” Gibson said, affronted.

Distracted from Valerie Hosteen’s unbridled criticisms, Mulder glanced at him with furrowed brows. “What? You’re 14.”

He sighed. “My birthday was Wednesday.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” asked Mulder, giving him a look of disbelief.

Gibson shrugged, but didn’t reply. He hadn't felt that Mulder would really be into celebrating anything. Valerie gave him a sympathetic look, sighing, her eyebrows knitting. He averted his eyes from her gaze and looked at Mulder. “I think this recipe looks pretty easy. It shouldn’t take too long to cook, either.”

Reaching for the Betty Crocker cookbook, Mulder nodded and looked down at the open page. “Okay. We’ll get the stuff in the list.” He turned to Albert Hosteen’s granddaughter, throwing her a sarcastic look. “Well, it was nice running into you, as always.” He then turned and walked away, looking down at the list of ingredients, Valerie grinning at him.

Once he was out of earshot, Gibson tapped her on the arm, drawing her attention from Mulder’s back. “Hey. So are you gonna help us find the Anasazi, or what?”

She heaved a sigh. “What makes you think I even can? And keep your voice down. What did I tell you about people overhearing you asking about them?”

He gave her an incredulous look. “Cody said you could.”

Valerie rolled her eyes. “Well, I know where they are. But… there are so many of those pueblos, not only here but also in New Mexico, and the majority of them sit empty. Finding the ones that are still lived in would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“But we have to find them,” Gibson insisted.

“You _really_ believe that story, don’t you?” she asked. “About the man who will save the world from mass extinction? You believe it’s actually true.” Valerie shook her head. “That the story is some kind of ancient mystery that we're supposed to figure out?"

He sighed, and lowered his voice. “Agent Scully found a spaceship in Africa. And on the ship were Navajo writings. Passages from the Bible, the periodic table of elements, a map of human DNA, written in Navajo, on an alien ship.”

She stared at him, eyes slightly widening. “You honestly expect me to believe that horseshit?” Valerie sighed, thinking. “Agent Scully? Oh… the FBI woman.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Mulder’s partner.”

“ _He_ doesn’t believe the story, does he?” Valerie asked, tilting her head in the direction Mulder had walked off not that long before.

Gibson pursed his lips, pausing. “He doesn’t want to believe it.” He then looked at her pleadingly. “Will you help us? Take us to the pueblos?”

Valerie hesitated. “I… I don’t know. What would you even do if you found the Anasazi? I’m not sure it’s a good idea to go looking for them.”

“Please, Valerie,” Gibson implored.

She sighed, shrugging her shoulders in defeat. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

He smiled, thanked her, and then walked off to find Mulder.

Later that evening, after they ate their stir fry dinner that Gibson had made using the Betty Crocker recipe, there was a knock on the door, and Mulder walked out of the kitchen to answer it. Opening the door, he stared at the sight of Valerie Hosteen standing there holding a round, white Tupperware container. There was something dark inside.

“I baked a cake,” she said, smiling.

“Are you trying to poison me?” he asked dryly, giving her a blank stare.

Her smile faded, and she shot him a look. “Poison? Do you think I’d come up with something as unoriginal as that? It’s not exactly _A Perfect Murder_ material, is it?” She smirked. “Besides, the cake isn’t for you.” Valerie then pushed her way past Mulder, making sure their bodies made as much contact as possible. He sighed in exasperation and closed the door, before following her to the dining room table.

“You made me a birthday cake?” Gibson asked her, raising his eyebrows in surprise before she’d even removed the lid.

Valerie smiled. “Yes.” Lifting the lid, she revealed a round cake with chocolate frosting and 15 candles. “Do you have matches or a lighter?”

Mulder reached into his front right pocket and pulled out the sterling silver Zippo lighter that had once belonged to his dad and Scully had gotten refurbished as a Christmas gift. He then leaned over the table and lit all 15 candles. Smiling, he watched Gibson close his eyes and blow them out. Valerie pressed him to reveal what he wished for, but he wouldn’t give in. The three then sat down at the table, each partaking of a generous slice of chocolate cake.

Several minutes later, just after 8:30 pm, there was another loud knock. “It’s Cody,” said Gibson, hearing his friend’s thoughts outside, and stood up.

“Were you expecting him to come over?” Valerie asked.

“Uh… no,” Gibson replied, walking away towards the door to answer it.

Mulder glanced between them, and then averted his eyes, standing up and walking into the kitchen. Gibson opened the door, Cody asking if he’d completed the Earth Science homework, and the two headed towards Gibson’s bedroom. Setting his plate and fork down in the sink, Mulder turned to see Valerie had followed him, carrying the cake with its container and the other two plates. She then sidled up to stand mere inches from him.

“You gonna come to the bar again sometime?” she asked, her left forearm casually resting on the counter.

“I hope not,” he deadpanned, taking a step back from her. He turned and leaned back, starting at the white refrigerator. “Why are you even there? You could do be doing anything.”

Valerie crossed her arms defensively. “I was at the University of Arizona for a while. But then my mother got sick. Cancer. I left college and went back home to New Mexico. The medical bills were really high, and I started working at the bar to help. I thought about going back and finishing my degree after she died, but then my grandfather got sick.” She sighed. “It just never worked out.”

“What were you going to school for?” he asked.

“Social work,” replied Valerie. “I do enough of that at the bar, I guess.”

Mulder snorted. Silence momentarily filled the kitchen, and he wondered if Scully was awake or asleep. He pictured her in her bedroom, William sleeping in the bassinet at her bedside.

Valerie inched closer. “Did my grandfather’s spirit really come to you while he was dying?” she whispered.

He blinked, coming out of his reverie. “Um… no, not to me. My partner.”

“And… where is she?”

“She’s at home, with our son,” Mulder answered, still staring ahead at the refrigerator door.

Nodding, Valerie looked down at her entwined hands. “How long will you be staying? When will you be able to go home?”

He dropped his head, closing his eyes, before opening to stare at his shoes. “I hope to go home as soon as possible. It depends on if I can find some answers, and what those answers are. But…” Mulder sighed. “There’s a likely chance I might not ever be able to go home. I’m a danger to them.”

Her brows knitted in sympathy, and she reached out to grasp his forearm with her hand. Immediately, he stepped aside, pulling his arm free of her touch, and the air in the kitchen turned awkward. Mulder wished Valerie would just leave. He couldn’t figure out what she was about. She constantly treated him with sarcasm, and sometimes derision, and then there were moments when all he could sense was compassion coming from her. Most of the time he was of the opinion that she couldn’t stand him, but then she’d suddenly look at him in a way that made him very uncomfortable.

At this moment, Gibson and Cody appeared, for which Mulder was thankful. They walked their guests to the front door, Cody and Valerie stepping out onto the screened-in porch. Cody continued walking off the porch and down the concrete steps to the yard, but Valerie hesitated, turning around to face Mulder and Gibson.

“There are some pueblos of the Anasazi near here, at the Navajo National Monument,” she said. “Ruins that were once grand houses about 700 years ago. I highly doubt any Ancestral Puebloan people are still living there, as it’s a rather famous spot that gets many visitors. But it’s at least a place to start.”

Gibson’s eyes went wide, and he looked up at Mulder excitedly, who merely sighed and slowly nodded his head.

Valerie grinned down at the teenage boy. “We can drive over there on Saturday morning. It’ll only take about an hour to get there.”

“Thanks!” Gibson replied enthusiastically. "And thank you for the birthday cake." Mulder only nodded, giving half a smile.

She then turned and walked off the porch, before walking Cody to his family’s double-wide trailer and going home to her own.

*****

On Saturday, February 10th, Mulder drove west of Kayenta to the Navajo National Monument, Gibson beside him in the passenger seat and Valerie Hosteen giving directions from the back over the course of the hour's drive.

"Could you please find a radio station that doesn't make me want to kill myself?" she griped.

Mulder chuckled, and Gibson kept turning the dial, looking for anything that wasn't religious, Spanish, or country.

On 360 acres of land on the Shonto Plateau, overlooking Tsegi Canyon, stood three ancient pueblo ruins of the Anasazi. Upon arriving at the monument just after 8:00 am, they found a visitor center. Some tourists were milling about with cameras and backpacks, and everyone gathered in front of a park ranger, who would be their guide on the hike to the ruins. After purchasing a gallon of water each and obtaining a backcountry permit inside the visitor center, Mulder, Gibson, and Valerie grabbed their backpacks from the Camaro and joined the group for the 8:15 orientation.

“Welcome, welcome,” the ranger said to the group. “I’ll be guiding you this morning to your tour of the Keet Seel cliff dwellings. Keet Seel is Navajo for ‘broken house.’ On the tour, you’ll see spectacular topography of the area, including the canyonlands. You’ll also learn a little history of the land and the people who used to live here, as well as information on local flora, and other topics. We also offer separate guided tours to the Betatakin ruins. Please note that there is a third cliff dwelling here at the National Monument, a bit further west, called the Inscription House. This is closed to the public. I strongly emphasize that you need to steer clear of that area.”

Mulder slowly turned his head and locked eyes with Gibson, the two exchanging a knowing look, and then both turned it on Valerie. She crossed her arms and gave them a hard stare.

“No. Absolutely not.”

Mulder and Gibson glanced at each other again, grinned and nodded, as the park ranger continued.

“It’s a 17-mile roundtrip hike to Keet Seel on a primitive, rural trail. During the hike we will encounter steep trails and uneven steps, sandy slopes, rocks and ankle-deep streams. If you have hip, knee, respiratory, or heart problems, or have had recent surgery, please do not attempt this hike. Unless anyone has any further questions, we can get started.”

“We are not going to the Inscription House!” Valerie whispered insistently.

Ignoring her, Mulder and Gibson started walking off to follow the ranger and the group of 12 tourists as they departed the visitor center. They then began the journey of eight and a half miles to the ancient Anasazi dwellings called Keet Seel. The weather was beautiful, with clear blue skies, perfect temperatures, and the hike included incredible views of the Shonto Plateau and Tsegi Canyon.

But just as the ranger had stated, the hike was rugged and strenuous, and by the end of it they would lose and regain a thousand feet of elevation. Most of the trail followed the course of a creek that ran through the basin. Portions of the trail passed through a desert environment with yucca and agave plants, other portions descended along steep switchbacks through sandstone, talus slopes of rocks, sand dunes, and occasional streams that unavoidably needed to be crossed. Around the streams, the desert landscape would suddenly explode into a burst of lush greenery, and the water could often be heard and smelled before it could even be seen.

Having stopped for an hour to rest and eat a small lunch, at just past 3:00 in the afternoon the group came upon Keet Seel village, ancient homes, long abandoned, carved into the side of an enormous cliff. There they met a different ranger, who was to guide them through the dwellings and tell them more about the people who had lived there.

“Keet Seel is one of the most well-preserved dwellings of the ancient Anasazi people,” the guide told them as they approached the site. “Thanks to the natural overhanging cliff and the dry climate. Construction began in 1272 AD and ended in 1286. It is believed that at its peak, about 150 people may have lived here. But some 20 years after it had been built, the people abandoned the dwelling and never returned. No one really knows why, although there are a lot of theories out there, some practical and others… uh, more bizarre.”

The closer and closer they got to the actual dwellings, the more Gibson’s brows furrowed. He looked around at those standing near him, looked up at Mulder to his left, and then turned to his right to stare at the back of Valerie’s head. Something wasn’t right, but he refrained from saying anything. The group then followed the guide to the homes carved out of rock.

“You’ll notice here on the cliff wall outside the alcove there are painted symbols of deer, a flute, fire, and the symbol for the Red Running into the Water clan,” the guide pointed out. “And I believe we have someone from that clan here with us today, if that’s Black Widow standing back there.”

“Hi, Peter!” Valerie called out, and he nodded, smiling.

Mulder and Gibson turned to look at her, but she merely shrugged and then turned her attention back to the guide, who had resumed his commentary on the original inhabitants’ way of life when they had lived there. As the group entered the dwellings, stepping into the rooms where the Anasazi had once spent their days living, working, and raising families, Gibson’s eyes widened and he froze.

After a couple seconds, Mulder sensed that his young friend was no longer next to him, and he turned around to see that Gibson was still standing just inside the entryway, a look of wide-eyed panic on his face. Mulder quickly walked back over to him.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t hear anything,” Gibson replied, his eyes still wide.

He gave the boy a puzzled look. “What?”

Gibson swallowed. “I can hear you talking, and the guide talking.” He paused. “I can’t hear you thinking. I can’t hear anyone thinking.”

“When did this start?” Mulder asked, feeling a little anxious.

“The closer we got to the cliff, the more fuzzy it became,” he answered. “Like static on a radio. But as soon as I walked inside… nothing. Dead air.”

Mulder slowly looked around, glancing from one wall to another, up at the ceiling. “Has that ever happened before?”

Gibson shook his head. “Never.”

“Huh,” was all he replied, still looking over their surroundings.

Overall, the hour they spent walking through the ancient homes, granaries, and kivas of the Anasazi proved informative, but Mulder didn’t feel any closer to figuring out why these people were so significant, why Gibson should have put so much faith in their story of mankind’s savior. He certainly wasn’t any closer to finding out where on the mesa tops their descendants may be living now, as the guide, Peter, gave Mulder the distinct impression that he didn’t particularly care for such questions.

Departing the dwellings, Mulder asked Gibson if things were starting to come back to him, and while it once again became statical when they reached the outside, it wasn’t until they were a tenth of a mile away that he began to hear everyone clearly again.

“What was I just thinking about?” Mulder asked him after a few minutes of walking, checking to see if he was really back to normal.

“Agent Scully,” replied Gibson. “Uh, wearing a blue lace dress with a party hat on her head.”

He chuckled, feeling assured the boy was all right, but then he was lost in thought, wondering what would’ve caused the interference with his ability. One mile from Keet Seel was a simple tent campground with 16 sites. There were several scattered picnic tables and charcoal grills along with a comfort station containing restrooms and running water.

After grilling hot dogs and sweet potatoes, Mulder, Gibson, and Valerie sat at a picnic table to partake of their dinner. Knowing she was resistant to looking around the off-limits Inscription House, Mulder and Gibson carried on a silent conversation. The boy would nod his agreement to Mulder’s plans to go check out the place once everyone else was asleep in their tents.

Valerie, sitting across from them at the picnic table, glanced between them, sipping from her water bottle. “What the hell’s going on?”

“Nothing,” they replied in unison.

“Hmm,” she responded, arching a suspicious eyebrow, still looking from one to the other. But they remained silent.

As the sun began to set, Mulder got up, throwing his trash in the designated bin, and walked away, leaving Gibson and Valerie sitting at the table and staring after him.

“Where’s he going?” she asked, her brows knitting in puzzlement.

“He wants to be alone,” he replied.

Valerie drank the last of her water, sighing and placing the cap back on the bottle. “Does he do that a lot?”

Gibson nodded. “At this time of day, yeah.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “He gets really lonely.”

She blinked, giving him a confused look. “So… his solution is to go off alone?”

“We’re not the ones he wants to be with,” Gibson stated matter-of-factly.

Valerie turned again, watching Mulder walk to the western side of the campground.

*****

Getting up on a rustic picnic table, the farthest away from the group, Mulder planted his feet on the bench and leaned over, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands entwined. The sun was setting in the west, no different from any other night, and just like on most nights since he arrived on the Navajo Indian Reservation, he couldn’t help but wonder at the vivid purple, orange, and pink hues overtaking the blue at the horizon.

It was beautiful, and the air around him was calm and peaceful. It gave him the taste of bitterness in his mouth, it was like being stabbed in the ribs with a knife, his stomach churning with a painful and desperate loneliness. Reaching for his wallet in the back pocket of his blue jeans, he took out a folded 4 x 6 picture of William, nursing at his mother’s breast, his blue eyes wide, as if staring in fascination. Mulder ran his thumb over the matte finish of the photo paper.

His son. His son. His son. Sometimes the words seemed so strange to him. Sometimes he couldn’t believe them, despite saying them over and over again in his mind, ruminating over the words and the memories attached to them each night when he laid down to sleep. But it _was_ real, and filled him with a deep sense of pride and joy, to have something he never actually thought he would, something that he’d vigilantly tried to stop himself from even considering. But now there was nothing on earth more precious, save Scully.

He had a handful of Kodak pictures in place of a thousand memories he would never have. He was missing out, he knew he was. How old would William be when Mulder next saw him? Would he be bitter and angry? Or worse, not care at all? Or was there a chance that his son would still be young enough when Mulder returned so as to grow up never knowing what it was like to live without a father? Maybe there was a chance William would know him.

Pulling the second photo from his wallet, Mulder stared down into her beautiful face, and once again the feeling was bittersweet. He wondered why he was there, and not with Scully; why he couldn’t just pack up his suitcases and go home. Every day it became harder to stay away from her. Every day he checked the Personals section of _The New York Times_ , hoping for a message, telling him it was safe to come home. Every day was a disappointment.

Mulder closed his eyes and let his memories of Scully wash over him. He yearned to see her smile, to hear her laugh, wondering if she’d laughed at all since he left, wondering if she was ever happy, guiltily hoping she wasn’t. He longed for her small, warm hands, her mouth, her strong thighs wrapped around his waist or his shoulders, the scent of her, the taste of her, her wet heat tightly enveloping him as he brought them both to the brink of ecstasy. He craved their physical connection so much that it was almost unbearable. He felt empty and broken inside without it.

The sky began to darken and he returned the photos to his wallet. After reaching inside his jeans for his pocket knife, he then carved M + S = W into the wooden picnic table, before getting down and returning to the campsite he was sharing with Gibson.

*****

Just after 11:00 pm, they were shaking her awake, telling her to get up.

“What the hell?” she gasped, throwing her arms up to defend against whatever had grabbed hold of her.

“Valerie, it’s just us,” Gibson whispered. “Come on, we gotta go.”

She blinked, noticing it was pitch dark other than the two flashlight beams bobbing around her tent. “What…? Go where?”

Mulder and Gibson exchanged a look, before turning back to her. Valerie’s eyes widened, as she sat up in her sleeping bag, her long dark hair falling over her shoulders in messy waves after having been braided all day long.

“No! No way!”

“Come on!” Gibson pleaded.

“I’m not going there,” she whispered. “Especially in the middle of the night.”

Sighing, Mulder shook his head. “It’s just an empty ruin. Can’t be all that much different than the one we saw today.”

Valerie glared at him. “Then why do you even have to go, then?”

“Because for some reason it’s closed to the public,” he replied. “I wanna know why. Are there people living there?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, chewing her bottom lip nervously. “Maybe. I mean… yeah, there could be. I know there are people living close to it, anyway. I can’t say whether anyone would be living in the cliff. It’s doubtful, but… not impossible, I guess.”

Mulder raised his eyebrows, eyes widening, and pursed his lips. “We gotta go, then.”

“Please don’t make me go there,” she begged, almost frantically.

Gibson sighed, and turned to Mulder. “She’s scared,” he muttered under his breath.

He nodded, and looked down at her still sitting up in her sleeping bag. “Okay, you don’t have to come. We’ll just go by ourselves. It’s to the west, the ranger said?”

Valerie’s eyes bulged. “You can’t go walking across the desert at night by yourselves! You don’t even know where you’re going! You could get lost, or hurt.”

“Not if you come with us,” Gibson whispered earnestly.

She heaved a deep sigh, holding the palm of her left hand over her face. “Fine.”

After walking three miles to the west, their paths lit by flashlights and the moon overhead, they reached the north side of Nitsin Canyon and the Inscription House cliff dwelling. It was much smaller than Keet Seel, only consisting of about 75 homes and granaries, and only boasted one kiva. Climbing up the steep slope of yellow-brown sandstone, towards the alcove that contained Inscription House, Mulder could understand why it might be closed to group tours. There was no easy path to reach the place.

As they got closer to the ruins, Gibson poked Mulder in the arm. “It’s happening again,” he muttered.

“Static?” whispered Mulder.

“Yeah, like bad reception.”

Mulder twitched his mouth, considering Gibson’s situation, but he had no answer for him.

Valerie turned around. “What are you two whispering about?”

“Nothing,” they answered in unison.

She sighed, turned and kept climbing. Once they reached the entrance to the ancient village and its living quarters, Valerie stopped. Her heart pounded in her chest, her palms sweated, her breathing quickened.

Mulder and Gibson stood behind her, waiting for her to walk inside, but she stood as if frozen. “After you,” said Mulder.

“We really shouldn’t go in there,” she said. “We might anger the spirits.”

“Spirits?” he laughed in disbelief. “What spirits?”

She shifted her feet from side to side, her eyes darting around the walls. “The Navajo believe that the canyons are inhabited by spirits that will cause flash floods or great winds to carry people away who disturb them.”

Mulder and Gibson exchanged glances, and the teenage boy shrugged. He had no idea what Valerie was thinking. Her mind had gone silent.

“Do you honestly believe that a flash flood or a wind storm is gonna appear out of nowhere?” whispered Mulder. “There isn’t a cloud in the sky. The ruins seem empty to me. There’s nothing in here that will harm you.”

He then walked by her towards the opening to the first large home, keeping Gibson in front of him, and shone his flashlight on the walls. They appeared to have a reddish-orange color. The park ranger, Peter, had said it was most likely the chemical reactions of the oxidized iron in the quartz-rich sandstone that had given them the color, giving archeologists clues that at one time the area may have had an abundant water source.

Moving further into the dwelling, Valerie grabbed onto Mulder’s left wrist and wouldn’t let go. He could feel her shaking beside him. Turning a corner and entering another section of living quarters, she stepped forward and a little to the side to avoid brushing against a wood pile. But Valerie’s eyes widened in horror as she realized they’d mistakenly come upon the kiva, and she stepped on Mulder’s foot. Jumping, in order not to put her full weight on his Timberland boot, she tripped and he caught her in his arms, his flashlight falling to the ground. Unconsciously, her arm had swung around his shoulder and her other hand was grabbing his side. They stood motionless for a second, and she gazed into his face, at his eyes glistening in the dark. The situation had suddenly become way more intimate than Mulder had even imagined possible, and he panicked, letting her go. She quickly steadied on her feet, and he bent down to pick up his flashlight. She hurriedly left the kiva, Mulder and Gibson following her.

After spending about 30 minutes wandering around the Inscription House ruins, finding nothing all that remarkable, they made their way back through to the place they’d entered. They then began their descent down the steep slope towards the bottom of the cliff. After a couple minutes, Gibson sighed in relief as his ears once again became filled with the unspoken thoughts of his companions, feeling slightly amused at the vast difference between them. But then he suddenly heard something else, and he froze, coming to an abrupt stop.

“Mulder.”

“What is it?”

Gibson scanned the landscape in front of them, but could see nothing. “There’s something out there. I can hear it. It’s…” He paused, concentrating. “It’s not human.”

A cold fear filled Mulder’s stomach, and his eyes darted all around, seeing nothing in the dark.

“It’s probably a coyote or something,” Valerie said.

The boy’s eyes widened. “Mulder, he can hear me. He’s coming closer.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘he?’” she asked. “I thought you just said it wasn’t human.”

“Oh, shit.” Mulder instantly grabbed Gibson and Valerie by their wrists, spinning them around back facing the cliff dwelling, their flashlights falling to the dirt, and quickly started moving towards it. What had he done?! He’d brought them there to their deaths.

They ran back towards the Inscription House ruins, panic filling Mulder, his mind racing, a confused fear overwhelming Valerie and Gibson.

“I won’t be able to hear you in there, Mulder,” Gibson whispered frantically, running alongside his friend as fast as he could. Valerie’s brows knitted in confusion. What the hell did that mean?

“I won’t be able to hear him either,” the boy concluded, fear tightening his stomach into knots.

Mulder held on tighter to his two companions. “That’s what I’m counting on, Gibson.”


	108. "In the desert, things find a way to survive. Secrets are like this, too."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder finds out the Super Soldiers may not be so invincible after all, and learns more about the Anasazi. Aspects of his life become increasingly difficult.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kings of Leon - "True Love Way"
> 
> I want in, like a substitute  
> I've been working awful hard for you  
> But you don't say, you just hold your breath  
> So I can't touch what I haven't yet  
> She's a cold one and it hurts me so  
> And it's a dark path and a heck of a toll  
> And she can kill me like she did before
> 
> Oh we'd be so free  
> Happy alone  
> Sharing a smile  
> So far from home
> 
> Push in and I pull away  
> It's a hard part but the true love way  
> Girl, you're wanted like a wanted man  
> With your smart mouth and your killer hands  
> We could both share all that I have made  
> For a young man, it's a heck of a wage  
> And I feel crazy when I see your face
> 
> Cause we'd be so free  
> Happy alone  
> Sharing a smile  
> So far from home  
> And we would laugh  
> Laugh till we cry  
> Making up songs  
> You're making me lie
> 
> People say our babies are walking this town  
> People say our babies are walking this town  
> People say our babies are just wandering around  
> People say our babies are walking
> 
> And we'd be so free  
> Happy alone  
> Sharing a smile  
> So far from home  
> And we would laugh  
> Laugh till we cry  
> Making up songs  
> You're making me lie  
> Happy alone

Running inside the Inscription House dwelling, Mulder had no idea where he was going. Their flashlights had been left behind on the slope, and only the occasional moonbeams shining in through the windowed openings lightened the heavy darkness inside the ancient living quarters. Still holding onto Gibson and Valerie, he ran through the first two large rooms, at a real loss as to what to do now that they’d made it safely inside. There was little doubt that they would be followed. But then what?

A disembodied voice sounded in the dark. “In there.”

Mulder froze, instantly halting, Gibson and Valerie skidding to a stop on either side of him, their wrists still held tightly in his grip. The voice was painfully familiar, but he knew it was impossible to have truly heard it. The person it belonged to was dead. He’d seen him die with his own eyes. Maybe he’d just imagined the voice. Maybe his mind was just playing tricks on him. Mulder turned to his left to see they’d stumbled upon the kiva again, and Valerie must’ve realized this as well because she let out a small whimper.

“We’re going in it,” he whispered.

Valerie whimpered even louder. Releasing her wrist, Mulder grabbed her hand and threaded their fingers, before pulling her and Gibson towards the opening in the rectangular floor. A wooden ladder descended into the underground, square-walled room that had once been used by the Anasazi for religious ceremonies, with a stone bench along the perimeter. Gibson climbed down the ladder first, followed by Valerie, who promptly grabbed hold of Mulder’s arm as soon as he had joined them.

After taking down the ladder and laying in on the floor, the three companions stood with their backs against the farthest wall from the opening in the ceiling, staring up at it. It was pitch black inside the kiva, and Mulder wouldn’t have even been able to see his hand in front of his face if he tried. Valerie was trembling to one side of him, muttering under her breath in Navajo. Mulder guessed she was praying. On his other side, Gibson inched closer until their arms were touching.

They huddled in fear in the dark. Mulder thought he knew exactly what they were up against. And while Gibson had a fairly good idea, the terrible unknown filled Valerie with an anxious dread. The spirits were bound to be angry now that they’d entered the kiva. She hadn’t truly believed in spirits since she was a child, and was quite shocked at herself for being so frightened. But maybe it was the reemergence of the FBI man, Mulder, the dangers he’d brought with him, this unknown enemy they were currently hiding from, and the stories about the Anasazi her grandfather had told her, of them being taken away by the alien gods from the sky. She prayed to the Holy People to protect them. Even if she hadn’t altogether believed in the things she’d been taught at a young age, praying couldn’t hurt.

Soon the thud of slow, purposeful footsteps crunching on the dirt floor could be heard somewhere above, the sound rising over the fearful buzz that filled their heads. Their pursuer had entered the dwelling. Valerie gasped, and started trembling more than ever. All the breath seemed to leave her lungs. Mulder’s heart pounded a hard stroke. A single, panicked thought rioted in his mind: He was probably about to die, and he could do nothing except wait for something to happen.

A voice then rent the darkness. “Mulder. I know you’re in here. If you want what’s best for your son, you’ll show yourself.”

It was the voice of Special Agent Gene Crane, or rather the voice of the alien replicant who had replaced the actual Agent Crane; perhaps one of those Super Soldiers that Doggett had talked about.

A battle began to rage in Mulder’s mind, growing fiercer with each breath he took. He was being drawn in two directions at once. It was safer to remain hidden, but they’d be found eventually, and then all three of them would likely die. Maybe not Gibson, but they’d surely take him and do God knows what to him. But if he showed himself, there might be a chance Gibson and Valerie wouldn’t be found or hurt. He might also learn just why these human replacements or Super Soldiers wanted him kept away from William. He might learn the answers. Of course, he’d then be killed almost immediately upon learning them. So what good would the truth be? Unless the world would truly be a safer place for his son if he was gone, out of the picture, never to return. Maybe if he gave up his own life, William wouldn’t come to any harm.

Mulder began to push himself forward from the wall, but instantly both Gibson and Valerie firmly grabbed his wrists, holding him back. Suddenly, instead of the thud of footsteps, it sounded as though their pursuer’s feet were shuffling erratically. Agent Crane was making choking-like sounds, and then a loud thud jarred the night air as if he’d dropped to his knees along with the simultaneous sound of a flashlight falling to the ground.

Below in the kiva, they didn’t know what to make of whatever was happening up there. With a loud crash, suddenly something exploded into the cliff, the walls shaking, the sound of dirt and crumbled rocks falling from above. Valerie screamed as Mulder and Gibson ducked, covering their heads. Once the dirt and rocks had stopped falling, Mulder holding his breath listening for any sign of life in the dwelling, he felt somewhat assured that for whatever reason the danger had passed.

Grabbing the wooden ladder, Mulder lifted it off the ground and once again returned it to the opening in the ceiling. Slowly, he climbed up until he was head and shoulders out of the kiva, and he looked around. Moonbeams coming through the openings in the wall cut through the darkness. No one was around, and not a sound could be heard. He climbed up until he was stepping out of the kiva and onto the floor of the large room. Seeing the flashlight on the ground, its beam hitting a corner, Mulder bent over and picked it up. He then shone the light on the walls, and found a spot with a lot of damage, as if a battering ram had been used on it with considerable force. Crumbled reddish-orange rocks from the wall littered the floor in front of the area along with a lot of blackened dust.

“The coast is clear,” he said, speaking through the opening in the floor. “You and Valerie can come up.”

“Um… Valerie might need some help getting up there,” Gibson replied.

Brows furrowing, he shone the flashlight down the ladder. “What do you mean? Is she hurt?”

He paused briefly. “No.” Gibson then turned to Valerie and spoke reassuringly. “Everything’s okay. Come on. We can go now.”

When she made no reply, Mulder shoved the flashlight into the front of his blue jeans and climbed back down the ladder. Once he was on solid ground again, he retrieved the light from his waistband and right away saw Valerie sitting huddled on the floor, her legs bent, arms wrapped around her thighs, her head bent over her knees. Mulder sighed, and crouched down in front of her.

“Hey. It’s okay. We’re leaving right now and going back the campground. But we can’t do that unless you get up.”

She raised her head, her face wet with tears, and stared daggers at him, her fierce eyes narrowing hard. “We never should have come here. We’ve angered the spirits.”

“The only thing we were in danger from is gone, and is currently a pile of dust,” Mulder said. “It’s actually a good thing we came here. If he’d found me at the campground, I’d be dead right now.”

“You put our lives in danger,” she shot back. “And how do you know there aren’t more of these men out there? That they haven’t followed you to the reservation? That they won’t harm my people?”

He twitched his mouth, pausing. So far he’d only been aware of Agent Crane calling up Gibson’s old home and enquiring about him, and Mulder had had no other sign that anyone else had any idea of his whereabouts. It might’ve been possible for him to hear or sense Gibson out in the desert, no longer protected by a surrounding population of townspeople. But Mulder didn’t really know what to say to her in response.

“There aren't any spirits here." Mulder paused slightly, remembering the familiar voice that had guided him to use the kiva, but then quickly continued. "He wasn’t a man. He was an alien who looked like a man. And I don’t think we’ve been followed by any others.”

Gibson glanced up at the ceiling, and then gave Mulder a look, who took it mean that what he’d just said hadn’t exactly been helpful. But Valerie got to her feet, brushing the dirt from her jeans. “That’s fucking ridiculous,” she spit, and headed for the ladder. They watched her determinedly set foot on the first step and begin to climb up, Mulder wondering if his uttering something she’d clearly deemed as crazy talk had brought her back to her wits.

After all three had climbed out of the kiva, Mulder asked Gibson to take the plastic sandwich bag that had once contained the peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich he’d had for his lunch during their hike to Keet Seel out of his backpack and gather as much of the black dust over on the crumbled rocks as he could. Gibson did as asked, and then the three of them quickly made their way out of the Inscription House cliff dwelling. During the three mile walk back to the campground, no one spoke, each listening for sounds of danger, one listening to the anxious and confused thoughts of the others.

*****

In the early morning of Friday, February 23rd, Mulder drove to a local gas station and got on the pay phone, using one of the Gunmen’s phone cards to dial the number for The Georgetown Bloom Room, ordering a large flower arrangement along with an accompanying birthday card to be delivered to Scully’s neighbor across the hall from her apartment, a pleasant elderly woman named Mrs. Griggs. She’d no doubt see Scully’s name on the card, and then take the gift over to her. Mulder smiled, thinking of the look on Scully’s face when receiving the flowers.

After driving Gibson and Cody to the Monument Valley High School, he spent the rest of the morning sitting on the screened-in porch of their trailer, gun in lap. He’d been considerably spooked since what had happened at the Inscription House, but nothing had happened since then to raise any red flags. No one suspicious had turned up in town, Gibson never sensed any danger or anything alien in their vicinity.

Mulder also hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Valerie Hosteen since she’d angrily stalked off to her trailer after they’d returned from their trip to the Navajo National Monument almost two weeks ago. She probably really did hate him now. For the first few days after they’d gotten back, he’d worried that she would tell the tribal elders what had occurred, perhaps getting him and Gibson kicked off the reservation. But it was now 12 days later, and nothing had been said to him by anyone about their excursion to the Anasazi ruins.

Suddenly a middle aged Navajo woman came up the concrete steps and stood in the entryway to the porch. She wore a linen tunic and matching skirt, with an intricate Navajo print design; her long dark hair held back in a braid.

“Good morning, Mr. Mulder.”

“Morning, Mrs. Vandever.”

She smiled, the bright white of her perfect teeth a stark contrast to her friendly reddish-brown face. “Do you need anything? I can take your laundry for you. Or cook you a meal and bring it over later.”

He sighed. The women around there were always trying to take care of him and Gibson. “No, that’s okay. We don’t need anything. We’re doing all right.”

“Okay,” she replied, but then paused, as if debating what to say. “You need a good woman. You should get a wife.”

He snorted. The older, married women around there were always telling him he needed a wife. They were concerned that he was nearly 40 years old and unmarried. Gibson would chuckle and tell Mulder that they were very worried about him. Without fail, one of these Navajo women would tell him almost every day that he needed a good woman. He already had one.

“You know… Black Widow is a good woman. She’d make you a good wife.”

His eyes widened, brows knitting, staring in disbelief. “I’m pretty sure she hates me, Mrs. Vandever, so that’d be a nightmare for everyone involved.”

The woman gave him a Cheshire-cat smile, eyes twinkling, before turning around and walking back down the front steps into the yard. Mulder sighed again, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

Just before 12:30 pm, Mulder was sitting in a corner booth at a local diner. A plate of food was in front of him on the table, a cheeseburger and fries, but he wasn’t touching it. He sat hunched over, elbows on the table, lost in thought. He felt like he was in a prison of his own making. No matter how many times he told himself that he was staying away from Scully to protect her and William, that he was doing this for their own good, to keep them safe from harm, small seeds of doubt were starting to grow.

How safe were Scully and William without him? Were they only postponing future dangers by remaining apart? What if it was better for them to all be together, to risk any current threats against them in order to remove the future tragedies that could come about due to their separation? Was it truly in their best interests to stay apart? And why did their enemies view it as imperative to keep Mulder separated from his family?

He knew it was impossible for Scully and William to come to him, even if he desperately longed to see them. This life of paranoia, and fear of unknown assailants was not a life he’d ever want to expose them to. He knew they were better off at home, with Mrs. Scully nearby as well as Charlie and Jennifer not too far away. He knew that Scully would be cared for by the Lone Gunmen. They’d certainly done whatever they could when he’d be taken from her before. He also knew that Skinner and Agent Doggett would look out for her, even though the idea of them coming around her apartment while he was gone wasn’t exactly a comforting thought. But could they really take care of Scully and William better than he could? Was his family truly safer without him? Did he really have to stay away? And for how long? Until the danger passed? But what if it never did? Couldn’t he just go home? But wouldn’t it be selfish to endanger their lives just because he was lonely?

Mulder hadn’t truly been alone since he met Scully. From the moment they'd become FBI partners, he’d never had to live without her company, conversation, and friendship for very long. During her abduction, she’d only been missing for four weeks. But she came back to him. A memory suddenly rushed to the front of his mind, and he became aware that during her abduction, he’d felt lost and alone, and sought some momentary comfort from a stranger. He knew it could be easy enough to do the same now. But an action that had been a welcomed relief to him six years ago, an action he hadn't even thought twice about, would now only serve as yet another mental torment on top of everything else. He'd never be able to live with himself.

He felt empty, helplessly longing for Scully’s comfort, companionship, and reassurance. He was thankful he wasn’t alone, that he had a young friend in Gibson Praise. But Gibson could see right through him, and he could tell that his emotional turmoil was weighing him down. The boy’s eyebrows would often furrow, he’d grimace, and turn the volume up on the television. Mulder would get the hint and leave the trailer, aimlessly walking around the mobile park for a while to give the kid a break from his stifling depression. At night, Mulder wouldn’t go to bed until Gibson was fast asleep, and lying down in the darkened master bedroom, he’d allow himself to wallow fully in his misery, every night losing a little more hope that he’d be able to go home to Scully and William.

Startled by the sudden sight and sound of someone sliding into the booth, Mulder looked up to see Valerie Hosteen was now sitting across from him. She reached over to his untouched plate of food and grabbed a French fry, popping it into her mouth. She quickly scrunched up her face in disgust.

“It’s cold.”

He sighed, and simply looked at her. He felt no inclination to respond.

“You look like a lost puppy,” she said, before reaching over for his tall glass of ice water, taking a sip through the straw. When Mulder didn’t reply, she sighed and leaned back against the leather seat. “All right, then. I’m surprised you haven’t come around asking to go to more ruins. Did you give up?”

Mulder blinked at her. “The thought didn’t even occur to me to ask you to involve yourself further. Besides, it might be safer to stick to town for a while.”

She chewed on her bottom lip, nodding. “Did you find out what that black dust is?”

“Not technically,” he replied. “I went over to Kinsel Construction and Keith Little said it looked like iron.”

“Weird,” she replied. “Are those aliens of yours usually made out of metal?”

He caught her sarcastic expression, the glint in her chestnut brown eyes, her full lips forming a smirk, and he sighed. Mulder didn’t have the mental energy for this conversation. Still grinning, she slid out of the booth and stood up, and then turned back around to watch him get out of the booth himself.

“So, um, would you like to go to the movies tonight?” Valerie asked. “It’s Friday. It, uh, it could be fun.”

“The movies?” he asked, blinking at her, before dropping some cash down on the table.

She gave him a blank stare. “Yeah. We have this building in town. It has several theaters with a bunch of seats and large screens that play films. Maybe you’re not familiar.”

Getting over the initial shock that Valerie Hosteen was implying that she’d actually want to spend any more time with him than she absolutely had to, Mulder suddenly felt uncomfortable and averted his eyes. “No thanks.”

Valerie stepped closer until there were only two or three inches between them, trapping Mulder against the booth. She gazed intently at him, pupils dilating, and he swallowed, feeling nervous.

“Let me know if you’d like the company of someone other than a teenage boy,” she said, her voice just above a whisper.

Mulder then watched her turn around and walk away through the diner, heading out the door, the bell at the top dinging as it closed behind her.

*****

On Tuesday, March 20th, the first day of spring, Mulder decided to venture from the town of Kayenta for the first time since the events surrounding their hike to Keet Seel and Inscription House. He’d gotten a phone call from one of the tribal elders, who wanted to see him. So after dropping Gibson and Cody off at school, he drove two hours and 20 minutes southeast to the town of Window Rock, close to the New Mexico border. During the drive, Mulder constantly checked every mirror, anxiety knotting in his stomach, hoping he wasn’t going to be found, or followed.

Window Rock’s population was less than 3,000 people and its size only filled just over five square miles. However, this small town was home to the Navajo Nation Council Chamber, its Supreme Court, the offices of the Navajo Nation President and Vice President as well as the Navajo Nation Museum and Library, Zoological and Botanical Park, and a World War II Memorial. It was also the home of Chester Nez, the eldest member of the Navajo Nation Tribal Council.

Following the instructions he was given, Mulder turned onto Dinebito Drive and looked for the house marked Number 5. He soon came upon what he was looking for, and pulled into the driveway of a Hogan, a circular home constructed of wood logs. Getting out of the Camaro, Mulder walked up the dirt path to the traditional east-facing door, noticing the tassel of corn pollen placed in a niche between the logs, a sign that the home was blessed.

After knocking, Mulder was greeted by Chester Nez, his long gray hair falling loosely down his back, and then invited inside. They sat down at a small table inside the home, and Chester poured coffee for them both, before setting down a plate of scrambled eggs and Spam in front of him along with some fry bread. Like almost every other Navajo he’d met since setting foot on the reservation, Chester was accommodating and generous.

“I hear you’ve been wanting to know about the Anasazi,” Chester said, after they’d finished their breakfast.

Mulder nodded. After what had happened in the Inscription House cliff dwelling, he’d occasionally asked around about people’s theories concerning the Anasazi. Most of the time the Navajos at the local diner in Kayenta, at the gas station, and the library reacted to his questions with either laughter or unease. They either thought the fact he was asking after that ancient people to be ridiculous and absurd or suspicious. He had yet to find someone to respond to his questions somewhere between the two extremes, had yet to find someone who would gladly speak to him about them.

“We won’t ever truly know what they were thinking when they abandoned their cities,” Chester began. “They spent long years of hard labor building those cities in the cliffs, and then on the eve of the year 1300, they left them behind. To go where? No one really knows. It’s possible the reasons are climate related. There may have been a terrible drought or a mini-ice age, perhaps both. But there was enough water for the people, it was enough to survive. And they had survived times in the past that had been dryer, the rains much sparser. Even in the worst of times, the waters of the Provo and San Juan never dried up, the rivers providing what the people needed. They’d also survived the great migration north, bringing parts of the Mayan culture with them, which was not easy.

“So why did thousands of Anasazi suddenly up and abandon their homes? How did it happen that all of them, in hundreds of their own small communities across the Colorado Plateau, decide to just leave at the same time? And they went south, where the drought was even worse. After they left, the rains returned, and the land was very wet, perfect for crops and herds. But the Anasazi never came back.”

Mulder leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms and thinking. “Does anyone know why?”

Chester sighed, considering for a moment. “Archeologists have discovered evidence they weren’t in a hurry to leave, that the evacuation wasn’t an emergency, and that it appears as though the Anasazi had every intention of returning. Some of their descendants are still living, of course, and the pueblo people can be found on the mesa tops by those who know how to find them. But even they wouldn’t be able to give you a real answer.”

“Albert Hosteen believed the Anasazi were taken, abducted,” stated Mulder.

Chester pursed his lips, slowly nodding. “Historians have recently discovered that a new religion appears to have entered the Anasazi’s way of life, taking fast hold and spreading among the people. Based on newer kiva designs towards the late 1200’s, paintings on walls, pottery patterns of ceremonial bowls, it seems as though the people discovered something in the sky, something different, something they’d never seen before. New rituals were started, new ways to entreat these different gods.”

He paused, his expression turning sad. “Historians have also come to the conclusion that violence erupted among this peaceful people over this religion that worshipped the gods in the sky. The Anasazi fought among each other, people were scalped, dismembered, and possibly eaten. Families were slaughtered in their homes, and then the pueblos were burned.”

“Some of them didn’t want to worship the alien gods?” Mulder guessed. “They were possibly afraid, believing these new gods to be evil… which they undoubtedly were.”

Smiling at his guest’s reasoning, Chester nodded. “It’s possible the Anasazi, not wanting to war among themselves any longer, made peace and left their cities, and the new religion, behind, perhaps believing the cities to be cursed. Maybe they all finally came to fear these new gods, and so they left.”

Remembering what had occurred while he hid with Gibson and Valerie Hosteen in the kiva inside Inscription House, the emergence of Agent Gene Crane and then his apparent destruction, Mulder sighed. “They never should’ve left the cities. They were safer there. Leaving them, they were easier targets, they could’ve been taken, or destroyed.”

Chester thought about this. “I don’t think we’ll ever know. It's one of the world's great secrets.”

“These alien gods, they’re still here,” Mulder said, wondering if he could ever possibly explain everything he’d come to learn over his years working the X-Files in a way that would be understood. “They… want to take the earth, to wipe mankind off the planet, possibly using a plague.”

“The extinction? The end of the Fourth World?” Chester responded. “Yes. This has been predicted, foretold by the people for many centuries.”

Mulder swallowed, and chewed his bottom lip. “Do you think… do you believe in the legend of a savior? That a boy, the Monster Slayer, will save the world from the alien gods?”

Pausing, Chester’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and he seemed to hesitate, but then his face hid all emotion. “The future is just as clouded as the past.”

*****

At 2:30 pm, Mulder picked Gibson and Cody up at the high school and took the short drive back to Manuelito Mobile Park. The boys planted themselves in front of the TV in the living room after Cody went and grabbed his Nintendo 64, and they spent the next hour playing video games. Mulder sat at the dining table, lost in thought. After a while, he noticed Gibson’s brows furrowing, noticed him losing his concentration in the game, and watched him turn the volume up on the television. Sighing, he got up from the table and walked through the living room, stepping out to the porch and closing the front door behind him.

Without direction or purpose, Mulder wandered around the trailer park, walking up and down its gravel roads. The sky was turning gray, and the wind was picking up. It was probably going to rain. But the temperature was pleasant, thankfully not overbearingly hot. He wasn’t looking forward to the summer. At that thought, a sharp pang stabbed at his gut, realizing that meant he hadn’t much hope to be home anytime soon.

After about 15 minutes of aimless walking, occasionally nodding his head at the friendly ‘hellos’ from his Navajo neighbors, Mulder caught sight of Valerie Hosteen stepping out of the side door of a light blue trailer, carrying two round laundry baskets. He stopped and stared, watching her walk over to her clotheslines, where clean towels and clothes were hanging, having dried in the sun. She was wearing those snug, white shorts and a white, blousy tunic, with some kind of pattern in blue around the neckline. The wind blew through her long, dark brown hair.

She was a pretty woman, like many of the Navajo women he regularly saw, but there was something about her that made one look at her again. Though often sarcastic and dismissive, there was a latent fire in her eyes that could unexpectedly flash forth at any time with a passionate brilliancy. Upon a second look, one would see that beyond the often present smirk formed on her lips, there was a seriousness about her mouth, and the gentle flare of her nostrils bespoke a determined energy and an astonishing toughness. While the masculine in her nature was immediately noticed during one’s first interactions with her, it was soon realized that she was all feminine, but with a hard reserve that held certain strength. Valerie was beautiful, and it was a beauty formed by nature, rosy and fresh. She was graceful, but it wasn’t the artificial gracefulness that belonged to young women who circled around banquet rooms in cocktail dresses; it was a grace born of physical strength that had been acquired by living on the land. She was also cultured, having spent some time in higher education, and never once revealed any ignorant or intolerant aspects to her personality. She was also completely free; free from expectations, restrictions, or addictions. It was obvious she felt this freedom, and was glad to show it. While the Navajo women routinely told Mulder that he needed a good woman, a wife, no one ever told Valerie Hosteen that she needed a husband.

A loud CRACK thundered overhead, and Mulder jumped as the heavens began to weep, pouring down in buckets. Valerie shouted, and started to frantically remove the clean laundry from her clotheslines, as the dried towels and clothing quickly became drenched with rain. He rushed over to help her, and she greeted him with a wide-eyed look of shock. Moving as quickly as they could, the laundry was ripped from the lines, clothespins flying to the ground, and tossed into the white baskets.

Following Valerie through the side door to her trailer, carrying one of the baskets, Mulder found himself standing in a small, square mud room. He set the basket down, and looked around. Boots and old sneakers lined the floor by one wall, a broom along with a mop and bucket sat in one corner, bins for recycling lined another wall. He sighed, and looked down at himself. He was soaked through, his jeans and gray t-shirt wet and heavy.

He looked up, and his eyes widened at the sight of Valerie, whose white tunic was also soaked and clinging to her dark skin, not leaving much to the imagination. Mulder suddenly didn’t know where to look. His heart pounded, a sense of panic rising in the pit of his stomach, his fight-or-flight response kicking in. But Valerie stood between him and the exit.

“Do you want to come inside?” she asked him, wringing the water from her hair. “I might have some men’s clothing in there, from when Eric comes to visit.” She paused. “Hmm… but you’re a lot taller than he is. Wouldn’t hurt to check, I guess.”

Mulder swallowed, and his eyes darted from her face to around the mud room, adamantly not looking at the wet top hugging her torso, remembering the piercings that lay beneath. She smirked, taking in his stiff posture. Valerie took a step towards him and he visibly tensed, his jaw clenching. Butterflies filled her stomach, and she took another determined step forward. He backed up, hitting the door that led inside the trailer, and a shiver ran up his spine.

“You’re drenched, and obviously cold,” she said, her voice suggestive, stepping closer. They were now only three inches apart. “It’s much warmer inside.”

His breathing quickened. He’d literally have to toss her out of the way to get to the door that led outside. “Please. Don’t.”

She smirked again. “Don’t what?” she asked. Valerie took one more step towards him, and she was pressing into his chest, her hands lightly resting on each side of his waist.

Mulder could feel the small rings that pierced her nipples through her shirt. Thunder and lightning sounded outdoors, rain falling hard against the trailer. His heart pounded in his throat, his breathing quickened, his eyes darkened. Suddenly he felt his cock start to become a rigid demand inside his jeans. He had to get out of there. But he couldn’t move his legs.

“If I kissed you, would you push me away?” she whispered, gazing at him.

“I… I don’t know,” he said quietly, his head turned to the side, not looking at her. “Which is why I have to leave.”

He abruptly pushed himself forward, shoving a surprised Valerie out of the way, and walked quickly outside, back into the thunderstorm. Two minutes later, Mulder burst through the front door of his trailer, finding Gibson and Cody still sitting on the couch in the living room, playing video games. He walked right by them and into the bathroom. Eyes widening, Gibson dropped the controller he’d been holding.

“Come on, let’s go over to your house,” he said to Cody.

“I thought you wanted to stay here?” his friend asked.

Gibson stood up and started walking away from the couch, Cody moving to follow him. “Your mom’s tacos changed my mind. Come on, let’s go.”

The boys then left, running out into the rain, heading two trailers down to the one belonging to Cody’s family.

Stripping out of his wet clothing, Mulder turned on the water, making sure the temperature was as hot as possible without getting burned, and stepped into the shower. With his left hand, he braced himself against the shower wall and bent his head. Closing his eyes, he wished Scully was there. Clasping his erection in his right hand, he absently stroked as the hot water cascaded down his neck and shoulders.

For as long as he lived, he’d always remember the night when she’d told him she loved him, when she’d first said the words that for years they’d been too scared to say. How she’d whimpered them in his ear over and over again while her body wracked with pleasure. And as long as he lived, he’d remember the look in her face when he’d told her he loved her. The smile that had spread, the outpouring of affection from her eyes. That was the night that had resulted in their son.

Mulder growled low in his throat, clenching his jaw and squeezing his eyes shut. He started pumping his erection vigorously. With each hard stroke, he remembered how Scully felt beneath him, above him, her tight, wet cunt firmly grasping his cock. He felt her soft, ivory skin pressed against his. He saw the sweat forming at her brow as she shook and moaned his name. He groaned as his balls tightened, and a knot of white-hot need coiled at the base of his spine, spreading to the pit of his stomach.

His hips rocked forward with each stroke, pushing his cock through the tight circle of his fist. He swiped his thumb over the sensitive head of his thick shaft, hissing at the pleasurable sensation, and moved his hand faster and faster until finally his release roiled through him. His climax spilled out as his loud moans reverberated off the walls.

Immediately, heart-wrenching sobs burst from his chest as the water continued to pour over him, quickly becoming lukewarm. He thought of the life he used to have not so long ago, hearing her say ‘Mulder, I love you’ when she orgasmed, sleeping with her cuddled up next to him, waking up to her face. He thought of her caring for their son, feeding him, playing with him, watching him grow. What if he never saw Scully again? What if she was lost to him forever? If he never again hears her voice, feels her skin, smells her sweet scent? He was starting to lose all hope that he’d ever be able to go back home to her. How much longer could he live like this?


	109. “Then you must take away what he holds most valuable, the one thing in the world that he can’t live without.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder breaks down and contacts Scully, setting off a dangerous chain of events.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from the episode "Trust No 1" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz, and belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> Sidenote #1: You might recognize the chapter title quote, and see that it is slightly different from the dialog in FTF. I took it from the FTF official novelization, which used far better grammar and had the line "Mulder is far from broken" immediately preceding the one quoted above. Fits perfectly, I think.
> 
> Sidenote #2: Shout-out to Kelly (@_kellyQ) of The TV Mouse and Kim (@dramakim) from Head Over Feels for being my generous sounding boards over a month ago when I needed to make some final decisions about William's name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OneRepublic - "Come Home"
> 
> Hello world, hope you're listening  
> Forgive me if I’m young for speaking out of turn  
> There’s someone I’ve been missing  
> I think that they could be  
> The better half of me  
> They’re in the wrong place trying to make it right  
> But I’m tired of justifying  
> So I say to you..
> 
> Come home, come home  
> Cause I’ve been waiting for you  
> For so long, for so long  
> Right now there's a war between the vanities  
> But all I see is you and me  
> The fight for you is all I’ve ever known  
> So come home
> 
> I get lost in the beauty of everything I see  
> The world ain’t half as bad as they paint it to be  
> If all the sons, all the daughters  
> Stopped to take it in  
> Well hopefully the hate subsides and the love can begin  
> It might start now  
> Well maybe I’m just dreaming out loud  
> Until then...
> 
> Come home, come home  
> Cause I’ve been waiting for you  
> For so long, for so long  
> Right now there's a war between the vanities  
> But all I see is you and me  
> The fight for you is all I’ve ever known, ever known  
> So come home
> 
> Everything I can’t be  
> Is everything you should be  
> And that’s why I need you here  
> Everything I can’t be  
> Is everything you should be  
> And that’s why I need you here  
> So hear this now...
> 
> Come home, come home  
> Cause I’ve been waiting for you  
> For so long, for so long  
> Right now there's a war between the vanities  
> But all I see is you and me  
> The fight for you is all I’ve ever known, ever known  
> So come home  
> Come home

On Saturday morning, April 7th, Mulder laid awake in bed as the cold light of morning shone through the window of the trailer’s master bedroom. He hadn’t slept at all the night before. He hadn’t eaten since Thursday. He hadn’t left the trailer in over a week. Gibson and Cody had been either walking to and from school or getting a ride from Valerie Hosteen. He hadn’t spoken 10 words to Gibson since the previous weekend, shutting himself away in the bedroom the moment the kid came home from school, usually only reemerging to eat a silent dinner that Gibson had cooked for them. With each passing day, his young friend came home from school later and later. Mulder wasn't really surprised at this. He knew that Gibson could hear him there in the bedroom, read every anguished thought, sense every miserable feeling. As much as he hated this, Mulder could no longer find the mental or physical energy to remove himself from Gibson’s vicinity.

He felt like he was going crazy. He was spiraling into a crippling depression, and he couldn’t see a way out. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. Sitting up in bed, an idea formed in Mulder’s mind. Even though he was fully aware that he’d made a promise to abide by the stipulations the Navajo Nation Tribal Council had laid out for him, he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed Scully. He felt like their connection was slipping away from him in his life of isolation. There must be emails from her just sitting in his inbox, unopened, waiting there for him. What if something had happened to Scully? Or to William? He kept checking the Personals and Classifieds of _The New York Times_ , but there was nothing from her.

After he showered and dressed, he walked out to the living room to find the trailer empty and a note from Gibson on the refrigerator saying he’d be spending the day at Cody’s place. Mulder sighed. Sometimes he wasn’t sure who he felt sorrier for, himself or his young friend who was forced to live with him. Walking outside, he stood and stared at the Camaro. He shoved the keys back into his pocket and walked down the gravel road to the end, turning right onto another road and walking three trailers down to the light blue one belonging to Valerie.

Mulder climbed the concrete steps to her front door and knocked. A few seconds later, it opened.

“Hi…,” she greeted him, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Hey.” He nodded slightly, and took in her appearance, black jeans and a white tank top, her dark hair hanging over her shoulder in a braid.

There was an awkward pause, and she pursed her lips as he averted her eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked, her brows knitting in concern.

He sighed. “I’m fine.”

“Gibson’s really worried about you,” Valerie said, still standing casually in the doorway with her right hand on the knob.

“Did he tell you that?” asked Mulder, shoving his hands in the pockets of his blue jeans, looking back at her steady, direct gaze.

She shook her head. “No. He didn’t have to. But he’s been coming by a lot lately and doing his homework after school, staying later and putting off having to go home. I could tell something was up.”

He snorted. “I think maybe you should go back to college and finish your social work degree.”

“You’re right, maybe I should,” replied Valerie matter-of-factly. “So what brings you over here?”

“I was wondering if I could borrow your pickup truck for a couple hours,” he said. “Unless you were planning on using it.”

Valerie paused briefly, before shaking her head. “No. I’ve got no plans today. I don’t have to be at the bar till 8:30 tonight. What’s wrong with your car?”

Mulder hesitated. “Um… there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just, uh, too recognizable. Everyone around here knows it belongs to me.”

“You're not going off the Rez, are you?” she asked, staring at him, her mouth twitching to the side with slight anxious disapproval.

“Not exactly, but sort of,” he replied. “I want to go down to Tuba City. The Hopi side has an internet café.”

She heaved a sigh, giving him a pointed look, but said nothing.

“I know, I know,” Mulder said, glancing down at his shoes. “But I haven’t heard a word from my partner since January. I have to know if she’s all right. There’s got to be emails waiting for me.”

“So... you’re just going to read them?” she asked, arching an eyebrow, eyeing him carefully. “You’re not going to send her any messages from here?”

He paused, reflecting on the tribal council’s concerns. Mulder certainly didn’t want to bring anymore dangers to the Navajo land. The appearance of Agent Crane had been unsettling enough. “No, I’m not. I just need to know she’s okay. That my son is okay.”

Valerie considered him a moment, and then stepped back, closing the door on him. Mulder sighed. Well, that’s just great. He turned to walk off the porch when the door opened again, and he spun around to see her standing there, holding out a set of keys.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, taking the key ring from her outstretched hand.

“I hope they’re all right,” she replied.

Mulder nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. “Me too.”

An hour and 15 minutes later, he arrived in Tuba City and parked Valerie’s old black Ford pickup on the street in front of Tuuvi Café. After retrieving a medium coffee, he sat down at a corner table and opened Internet Explorer on the Gateway computer. There were several emails in his inbox.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
To: trust_no1@mail.com  
Date: Jan 26, 2001

Mulder, you’re scaring me. You’re talking as though you might not ever return. Your last email sounded too much like a goodbye. It’s somewhat of a relief to learn you’ve found this stable community, and I can understand that you not only want to protect us, but others as well. But what is going on? I don’t know if I can endure being cut off from you completely. Please find a way to contact me and let me know what is happening.

*******************************************

He sighed, hanging his head. He printed out the email, then closed out of it and opened the next one.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
To: trust_no1@mail.com  
Date: Feb 14, 2001

I know you can’t tell me where you are and I respect the reasons behind your silence. I can only hope that you will at least continue to get these messages and read them, even if you don’t respond. You’re the strongest person I know. I understand that there are probably things that have happened that you haven’t been able to tell me about. I really don't know what it is you're doing out there. But I have to believe that you can make it through this, that we both can. I pray every day for your safe return.

Work at Quantico is going all right. As you can imagine, a lot of the students are already aware of my reputation. I frequently have to burst the bubble of a student or two who want to know if the corpse was attacked by a vampire or a zombie. I’m also the go-to pathologist for John and Monica, so that’s been keeping me busy as well. I know you won’t like this, but it’s nearly impossible for me to say no to them. I’m working on it, but I still feel a sense of obligation to the X-Files.

William is getting so big. He’s now holding his head up and looking around without any trouble, still abnormally ahead of the development curve. He’s also still doing the thing with the mobile. No other objects have started flying around the apartment, so I guess I should be grateful for that. I’m going ahead with the christening next month. I’ve been thinking over a couple different ideas about godparents. I wish this was something that we could discuss together, but I guess I’ll have to make this decision on my own.

Be careful and please find some way to let me know you’re all right. Knowing that you’re okay gives me something to hang onto, something to hope for. Attached are pictures of William wearing the Knicks rompers I got for him last week. They came in a set of three: blue, white, and orange. He’s always very happy when wearing them. I’m starting to put a little more faith in that theory of yours about genetic memory.

*******************************************

He quickly grabbed the mouse and downloaded the attached file. Suddenly three pictures of their son wearing Knicks baby clothes filled the screen. In one of them, William was in Scully’s arms, and she smiled at whoever it was who took the photo. He guessed it had been Mrs. Scully. Mulder wished fervently that he didn’t have to be reading this in a public place, as a lump grew in his throat and tears filled his eyes. Pride, joy, and love battled it out for the dominant emotion as he gazed at the pictures of his beautiful son. He clicked the ‘Print’ button, and retrieved Scully’s email and the pictures from the copy machine against the wall. He then opened the next email.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
To: trust_no1@mail.com  
Date: Mar 20, 2001

Jesus, this feels impossible sometimes. You promised to write me, Mulder! I have no idea where you are, what you’re doing, or if you’re reading this. Or if you're even alive. Why does everything have to be a fucking crusade? Why can’t we just have a life? We have a son now, who needs both of his parents. Sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I know I have Mom to help and friends to look out for me, but this is so damn hard. Where the fuck are you?

*******************************************

He let out a deep sigh. The message was so abrupt, it was like a virtual slap in the face for his absence. In fact, he was of the opinion that if he'd suddenly shown up at her door after months of no communication, he could very well expect a hard slap to the face. Mulder’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and after printing this email too, he opened the next message.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
To: trust_no1@mail.com  
Date: Mar 21, 2001

I’m sorry. I know this isn’t just hard on me.

There are no signs that the danger has passed, no new information that can help me bring you home. I wish I could tell you that there was, that I’ve been able to find some answers as to why this is happening to us. The truth is, I’m just as frightened and confused as I was the day you left.

Faith is all I have left now. I hope and pray that this message finds you safe and well, and that you’ll be home soon. We’ve both endured so much in the past, and we’ve always come through. We’ve gotten this far together, haven’t we? I want you to do whatever you must to find a way home to us. But please be careful. I can't lose you again.

I think of you constantly, and I’m aching to see you.

*******************************************

He closed his eyes, picturing Scully in his mind’s eye. Sure, she'd probably slap the shit out of him. But then they'd make up, and that was the part he longed for. He ached for her, too. So badly. But after months of being away from home, he’d turned up very little information that would allow him to return. He wasn’t any closer to discovering how to remove the threats against him and his family, or even the reasons behind them. With a shaky hand, heaving a sigh and steadying his breath, he clicked the 'Print' button, closed out the email, and opened the next, final, message.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
To: trust_no1@mail.com  
Date: Apr 1, 2001

William is three months old today. He had his christening yesterday. A lot of family and friends came. Bill Jr and Tara couldn’t make it, though. I asked Skinner to be the godfather, and he seemed very surprised and delighted. I also asked Monica to be William’s godmother. Other than Jennifer, I honestly think she’s become my closest female friend. And she’s really good with the baby. Thankfully, Father McCue was kind enough to overlook the standard qualifications regarding the godparents adhering to Catholicism.

I don’t know if you’ll read this. I know you’re alive. I don’t know how. It’s just a feeling. But I think I’d know if something had happened to you. I’d feel it, or William would. I know that sounds crazy, especially coming from me, but I think you’ve had far crazier ideas in the past. We miss you every moment of every day.

Attached are pictures of William from the christening. There’s also one of Skinner holding him with Monica. I know you had your own thoughts concerning his birth certificate, which now seem to have turned out to be very good ones, but I hope you won’t mind the choices I made for the christening, including an additional baptismal name.

*******************************************

Mulder quickly downloaded the attached files, smiling at the photos of William, even though Scully had put the kid in a frilly white dress. He shook his head at the screen, pursing his lips. Staring at the photo of his partner holding their son inside the church, he reached up and tenderly ran his finger down the image of their faces on the screen. The kid was so much bigger than when he’d last seen him. He printed out the pictures, retrieving them from the copier and returning to the computer. Opening the second attachment, Mulder found himself staring at a photocopy of an official baptism certificate.

 

CERTIFICATE OF CHRISTENING

This Certifies That

William Edward Mulder Scully 

Child of  Dana Scully  and  Fox Mulder 

Born at  Democrat Hot Springs, GA  Date of birth  January 1, 2001 

was christened in  St. John’s Church, Alexandria, VA 

and was baptized in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit

on this  31st day of March year  2001 

 

Mulder’s voice hitched as he whispered, “Scully…,” struggling not to break down right there inside the café. His eyes brimmed over with tears and he stifled the sobs he could feel starting to form in his chest. He thought he’d managed to bury whatever disappointment and guilt he’d felt over not legally claiming William as his own, not believing he needed a thin piece of paper to tell him the kid was his. So nothing prepared Mulder for the overwhelming emotions from seeing his name attached to William’s, an official document stating that the boy belonged to both him and Scully.

Why was he even there? Why was he so far from her? How the hell had he lasted this long without her? All he wanted was to go home to the only two people that truly mattered to him. And who was to say they really were safer by staying apart? Three months of searching for some kind of answer had turned up little, both on his end and hers. What was the point of all this anymore? It was time to go home.

He heaved a deep sigh, wiping the tears from his face, and clicked on the ‘Reply’ button in her last email. If he was wrong, he knew Scully would tell him so and steer him back onto the path he was supposed to be on. If he was right, she’d wholeheartedly support him. Glancing up and around the café, not noticing anything suspicious inside the place, he felt assured and began typing “Dearest Dana” into the subject line. Mulder stared at it. He couldn’t wait for the day when he could go back to using her real name. But hopefully putting in that ‘dearest’ endearment would help to soothe things over for having been silent for so long.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: trust_no1@mail.com  
To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
Date: Apr 7, 2001

I've resisted contacting you for reasons I know you continue to appreciate. But, to be honest, some unexpected dimensions of my new life are eating away at any resolve I have left. I'm lonely, Dana, uncertain of my ability to live like this. I want to come home. To you, and to William.

*******************************************

After sending the email, he reopened her last one and printed it out, along with William’s christening certificate. Mulder logged out of his email account and closed the internet browser. He then drove to the Tuba City Trading Post, once he got directions from one of the girls behind the counter at Tuuvi’s, where he purchased several picture frames. Smiling for the first time since he could remember, he fitted the christening certificate into a document frame made of solid wood and painted black. He gazed at the framed certificate, his heart swelling with pride.

Mulder then drove to the McDonald’s in town, where he ate a quiet lunch in a crowded restaurant full of families out together on a Saturday afternoon, before driving back to Kayenta. Two days later, he convinced Valerie to let him borrow her truck again, and again he drove to Tuba City. He returned to Tuuvi Café and logged back onto the Internet. His heart pounded in his chest when he saw a new message in his inbox.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
To: trust_no1@mail.com  
Date: Apr 9, 2001

I am physically shaking right now seeing your words. Wishing it were you speaking them to me. I want so badly to see you too, but you are still not safe here. I wish I could tell you something different. I want nothing more than to have you here with me, and with William. We need you. But I’m afraid coming home now will only get you killed. If there was some way I could come to you, if I were to suddenly leave town, I’d surely be followed. And I love you too much to lose you. If you were to die _again_ , I wouldn’t survive it.

You don’t sound like yourself. What’s wrong? Where have you been?

*******************************************

Mulder chewed on his bottom lip, fresh tears swimming in his eyes. He grabbed the mouse and clicked ‘Reply.’

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: trust_no1@mail.com  
To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
Date: Apr 9, 2001

What’s wrong? Everything’s wrong. I can’t handle this anymore. I miss you so badly, I can’t stand it. My life here is becoming harder to cope with. I feel like the fight has gone out of me. I’m starting to lose all hope. I can’t accept that this is my life now, but there’s nothing that can change it, nothing that can make it even remotely bearable. At least nothing that I can stomach.

I need to come home, Dana.

*******************************************

Not wanting to sit around and face yet another email from Scully telling him he was still barred from her and William, Mulder signed out of his email account and left the café. An hour and 15 minutes later, he was pulling into Valerie Hosteen’s driveway. He exited the truck and knocked on her door, before she answered and he handed her back her keys.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“No,” he replied, averting his eyes from her gaze.

Valerie’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open slightly. “Did… did something happen to them?”

Mulder shook his head, crossing his arms and sighing. “No.”

“Are you going home soon?”

“I don’t know if I will ever go home,” replied Mulder, leaning back against the metal railing and staring at the parched desert landscape.

She stepped closer to him. “Do you want to come inside?” Valerie asked quietly.

He turned his head and looked at her, meeting her steady gaze, knowing what she was offering. He then stared down at his shoes, pushing forward from the railing. “I’m gonna go and pick Gibson up from school.”

Mulder walked down the concrete steps leading into Valerie’s yard, before turning down the gravel road to head back to get his Camaro and drive over to Monument Valley High School.

*****

On Wednesday morning, April 11th, Mulder stopped by Bashas’ Market after dropping Gibson and Cody off, and picked up a copy of _The New York Times_ before returning to the trailer. After a minute of scanning over the Personals and Classifieds sections, his eyes widened in shock.

“Family seeks their lost Norwegian Elkhound. He only answers to Heinrich. Please come home, Heinrich. We need to hunt some moose.”

Mulder jumped up from the couch. Holy fucking shit! Running into the bedroom, he grabbed a backpack from the closet and started tossing in some clothes. He grabbed $500 in cash from the lockbox on the closet shelf along with his handgun and its holster, and every email from Scully and photograph he had in his possession. Departing the trailer, backpack over one shoulder, he ran to Valerie Hosteen’s trailer, before pounding on her door.

“Jesus, what is it?” she greeted him, swinging the door open.

“I need you to take me somewhere,” he panted.

Valerie eyed the backpack suspiciously. “Where…?”

He heaved a sigh, steadying his breath. “The train station in Flagstaff. Or Gallup.”

“You’re leaving the Rez?” she asked, eyes going wide. “Is Gibson going with you?”

“No, no, he can’t. He’s got to stay here. He’s safe here.”

Her eyes narrowed hard. “You’re leaving him behind? I thought you’re supposed to be looking after him!”

Mulder shook his head. “I have to go home. Gibson likes the school. He’s doing well there. He has friends. He’s better off here on the reservation.”

“I don’t believe this.” Her hands went to her hips, and she stood in defiance. “He’s just going to stay in that trailer all by himself? He’s only 15 years old! Are you going to come back for him?”

“I… I haven’t thought about that,” he replied, but now thought that the kid probably wouldn’t mind the peace of living there without his miserable company. “I just have to get home. I’m hoping I won’t ever have to come back. Gibson will be taken care of here. I know he will. I’ve got to go. So can you drive me to Flagstaff, or what? The Camaro is too recognizable. You’ll be able to pick Gibson up from school later? Tell him that I needed to get home, that it was important and it couldn’t wait?”

Still staring daggers at him, Valerie slammed the door in Mulder’s face. Resigning himself to driving the Camaro, he stopped at a payphone and after using one of the phone cards provided by the Lone Gunmen, he dialed the number for _The Washington Post._ After asking for the Classifieds desk, he purchased an ad to be placed in the Personals in that day’s evening edition.

“Heinrich will meet his family in Culpeper on the day of Frigg at the noon of night.”

After hanging up the phone with _The Post_ , he dialed the number for the Monument Valley High School’s main office. After about five minutes of being on hold, Gibson appeared on the line. Mulder told him about the ad in _The New York Times._

Gibson swallowed. “What if it’s a trap?”

Mulder sighed. “The message was from Scully. No one else could’ve written it. Look, I just need to see her. Maybe this whole thing has finally blown over. I’ll… I’ll come back for you. Or send for you. Would you like to come to DC?”

“No,” replied Gibson. “I like it here.”

“I know you do,” Mulder said, sighing. “I’ll call you when I get there, okay?”

The boy also sighed, and lowered his voice. “Okay. But be careful. If something goes wrong, I don’t know if you’ll be allowed back on the Rez. You’re not supposed to leave, remember?”

Pausing, Mulder considered this. “Yes… I remember. Look, nothing’s gonna go wrong. Everything’s gonna be all right.”

“I hope so,” the younger of the two friends responded, feeling doubtful.

He paused. “Thank you, Gibson.”

Mulder then hung up the payphone and got back in the car, heading east on the highway. Taking the train across country would take too long. Instead he drove east, only stopping for gas, a quick convenience store snack, and a two or three-hour nap. On Friday evening, April 13th, he arrived back in Charlottesville, Virginia, and parked the Camaro inside unit number 61 at Albemarle Winter Mini Storage.

Using a payphone, he called for a taxi to the Charlottesville Amtrak train station. Paying $68 at the counter, he purchased a seat for the 8:30 northbound train that would arrive at the Alexandria station at 10:40. At 10:55, Mulder was seated on the Southbound 112, which would arrive in Culpeper promptly at midnight, backpack on the floor between his feet, jerking his leg up and down restlessly, and biting his bottom lip.

Mulder chanted inside his head, over and over again, almost unable to believe it. He was going to see Scully. He was going to see Scully. He was really going to see Scully. As the train started to move out of the station, his heart pounded something fierce in his chest. Every minute brought him closer and closer to her. He hoped William was with her on the platform. He wanted to see them both, hold them both, so fucking bad. But as the train sped towards the place he most wanted to be, anxiety and doubt started to insert themselves among his feelings of hope and excitement.

In a moment of weakness, or perhaps a moment that had culminated as a result of a number of weak moments, he’d contacted Scully. And despite the fact she told him how badly she wanted to see him too, she didn’t want him to come home. It was still too dangerous. At first he’d felt a twinge of insecurity, wondering if their difficult separation was changing how she felt about him, if she was becoming angry or resentful for being alone, for having to take care of their son without his help. But she told him she needed him, she loved him.

Those were far sweeter words than anything that had run through his mind in recent memory. He was now more determined than ever to see her. Mulder had found that there were things he desperately wanted to say to her, that he couldn’t bring himself to say to ‘Dana’ in his emails. Their separation had even taken something as simple as using the name ‘Scully’ away from him, her rightful name, the name that represented everything he loved and needed in this world. The name Dana seemed so foreign to him sometimes. There was no real comfort in using it.

He compared the thought that he could possibly be killed with the thought that he would never see Scully again for the rest of his life. If Mulder never saw her and William again, there would be no point in living anyway. So he was jumping at the chance to go back to her, despite knowing that his impulsive behavior had been his downfall many times before. Scully had often told him that one day it would get him killed. Maybe someday it would. But hopefully not today.

Mulder sat staring out the window at the dark landscape of Virginia. The closer the train got to Culpeper, the more restless he got. He wanted so badly to see her, hear her voice, touch her, kiss her, reassure himself that this was real, that he was really going home. He wanted to just put the past few months behind them. Maybe they could all get out of DC together, maybe go back for Gibson. The Navajo reservation might actually be a decent, safe place to raise William.

He suddenly felt the train shifting gears, slowing down. Mulder’s heart pounded in his chest, and his breathing quickened. He stood up, grabbing the backpack from the floor and throwing it over one shoulder. He then walked forward through the car, to stand near the doors that would soon open up to the platform when the train pulled into the next station.

*****

The overhead announcement told the passengers that they would shortly be pulling into the Culpeper train station. Mulder stood by a set of doors that would momentarily open and finally allow him access to everything he held most dear. The train curved and he could see the station platform, people standing on it. He thought his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. But then suddenly there was a jerk, and a thud, and the train starting moving faster again. They were going to pass the station. What the hell was happening?

Mulder frantically glanced around him, for some kind of clue as to why the train wasn’t stopping, but he found none. And then he saw her, her hair was still longer like in the pictures, blowing in the wind caused by the speeding train. He could see the glint of her eyes.

And then he heard her. “Mulder!”

“Scully!” he yelled, before pounding his fist on the door. “Stop the train!” But he was nowhere near the conductor, so it was pointless, and the train passed the platform.

He shook his head, not knowing what to do. Something must’ve happened. Maybe he could get off at the next station. She might go there for him, or he could then somehow get a taxi or a bus back to Culpeper and meet her as planned. There might be some way to…

There was a man standing at the end of the car, staring at him with a look of recognition. He was bald, with a dark mustache, wearing a dark jacket. He didn’t know who the man was. But he thought he knew _what_ he was. Immediately, Mulder turned and ran through the train car doors and into the next one. He shuffled quickly through the second car, into and out of the third, and then ran through the fourth. He noticed the other passengers staring at him with puzzled faces, but he still moved forward as fast as he could, refusing to slow down for anything, refusing to even look behind him.

For a moment, it seemed as though Mulder had successfully eluded his pursuer. He spotted an exit door on the right side of the train, and through the window he saw the train was passing a large rock quarry. Was it possible? Maybe. It could be his only chance. Opening the exit door, the wind howling loud around him, he tossed his backpack into the grass. Several seconds later, breathing hard and bracing himself, he jumped.

Mulder ran through the quarry, large hills made of rocks whose tops seemed to touch the sky. Two shabby buildings were huddled black shapes against the intermittent luminescent lighting around the quarry; a bulldozer sat still beside them, jaws closed and lowered like some kind of grotesque animal made of metal. The place was deserted, the workers having gone home hours ago.

Someone suddenly called out to him. “Mulder! Mulder!”

He halted, looking up at the man and woman standing at the top of a steep side to the quarry.

“Mulder, it's John Doggett!”

Oh, God. No. They should stay away. He hoped that no harm would come to Agents Doggett and Reyes, and they’d come there alone. He ran as far as he could go, until he came across a familiar pattern among the hills of rocks, a reddish coloring that reminded him of the desert he’d not so long ago believed he was escaping from. As quietly as possible, Mulder disappeared into the darkness, and stood with his back against the far side of the quarry. He could do nothing but wait it out, hope that he wouldn’t be found or that something in those rocks caused a similar outcome as the last time he’d been pursued by an enemy.

But then he heard something in the distance he’d fervently hoped he wouldn’t, and it chilled him to the bone.

“Mulder?”

No. No, no, no, no, no, no. This wasn’t happening. The voice he’d most wanted to hear, that he’d needed to hear, now filled him with a sense of dread.

“Mulder?” she called out again.

And then he heard the unmistakable sound of Scully running through the quarry, and the sound was getting louder. She was coming closer to him. Moments later, she came to an abrupt stop just on the other side of the hill he was hiding behind.

“Stop there!” she shouted. “Stop right there!” There was a slight pause. “Why do you want to kill us?!”

His heart pounded in his throat, his breathing quickened. He was frozen, unsure of what to do, not knowing whether he should show himself and get Scully out of there.

“Mulder must die,” spoke a man’s voice, firm, determined, menacing, and coming closer. “Mulder or your son.”

He felt like he’d been sucker punched in the gut, as if all the air suddenly left his lungs.

“What are you talking about?” Scully demanded. “What does this have to do with my son? What's wrong with my son?! Answer me!”

Suddenly Mulder heard the sound of a heavy thud to the ground, and then the sounds of someone struggling to get up. Without warning, something flew into the wall on the other side at great speed, hitting the quarry wall with enormous velocity, rocks falling to the ground and scattering. He leapt back from the rock wall he’d been leaning against on the other side, wondering if what had happened to Agent Crane had suddenly happened to this man. It certainly seemed like it. He really had been one of those alien replicants, or Super Soldiers.

Mulder then listened to the sound of his partner scrambling to her feet and running off back the way she came. But then she was calling out for him again.

“Mulder! Mulder!”

He closed his eyes, lowering his head, before once again standing with his back pressed up against the far side of the rock wall, hiding in the darkness.

“Mulder! Please! I know you’re in here!”

He then listened to sounds of other feet, running through the quarry.

“Dana, come on, let’s go.” It was Doggett.

“No, he’s here! He’s here! I have to find him!”

“Dana, I don’t think he wants to be found.”

Silence. “What are you talking about? He wouldn’t hide from me. He wouldn’t!” The sound of determined footsteps through the gravel. “Mulder! Mulder!”

“Don’t do this to yourself,” said Doggett, his voice sounding strained, as if he was trying to hold onto Scully. “I’m sure he has good reasons. This never should’ve happened. It’s my fault, and I’m sorry, Dana. But we need to get outta here.”

“No, I have to see him!” Scully’s voice choked, becoming thick with emotion, and sounds of her struggling could be heard. “Mulder, please!” she cried. “Mulder?”

Then the voice of Agent Reyes sounded out in the quarry. “Agent Scully, let’s go. It’s not safe here. We should get you home to your son.”

Perhaps the mention of William brought her to her senses, as she seemed to stop fighting off Doggett’s restraint. But she was still crying, her soft sobs echoing inside the empty quarry.

Cloaked in darkness, Mulder stood with his back against the rock wall, silent tears streaming down his face, listening to Scully’s sounds grow more distant. He heard car doors, and an engine starting, a car driving through the gravel road, and then all was quiet. There he remained for the rest of the night.

Just before dawn on Saturday morning, when the sky turned a dull gray in the east, Mulder walked out of the rock hills and toward the railroad tracks. He found his backpack after a few minutes of searching the grassy area near the road leading down into the quarry. Throwing the backpack over one shoulder, he stared down the tracks in the direction of Culpeper train station, where he’d foolishly hoped in a reunion with the woman he loved, stupidly risking not only his death, but hers. He thought of how just a week ago, he’d written her an email filled with endearment and love and hope that he would be able to come home to her. Gazing down the tracks, tears pricking his eyes and a lump growing in his throat, Mulder realized that he would never see Scully or William again.


	110. "The days and nights now will be long and difficult for the FBI man."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With some unexpected assistance, Mulder returns to the Indian reservation in Arizona, where life soon becomes unbearable, and he reaches his breaking point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kings of Leon - "Pickup Truck"
> 
> Walk you home to see  
> Where you're living around  
> And I know this place  
> Pour yourself on me  
> And you know I'm the one  
> That you won't forget
> 
> In your denim eyes  
> I see something's awry  
> And I see you're weak  
> When he comes around  
> I see you're fixin' to shine  
> And my face won't speak
> 
> Hate to be so emotional  
> I didn't aim to get physical  
> But when he pulled in and revved it up  
> I said, you call that a pickup truck  
> And in the moonlight I throwed him down  
> All kickin', screamin' and rollin' around  
> A little piece of a bloody tooth  
> Just so you know I was thinking of you  
> Just so you know, oh
> 
> Trembling misery  
> And as cold as a hole  
> I hug your bones and skin  
> Crackling woods gone white  
> And my eye swoll up now  
> I can see the light
> 
> Hate to be so emotional  
> I didn't aim to get physical  
> But when he pulled in and revved it up  
> I said, you call that a pickup truck  
> And in the moonlight I throwed him down  
> All kickin', screamin' and rollin' around  
> A little piece of a bloody tooth  
> Just so you know I was thinking of you  
> Just so you know, oh
> 
> Hate to be so emotional  
> I didn't aim to get physical  
> But when he pulled in and revved it up  
> I said, you call that a pickup truck  
> And in the moonlight I throwed him down  
> All kickin', screamin' and rollin' around  
> A little piece of a bloody tooth  
> Just so you know I was thinking of you  
> Just so you know I was thinking of you  
> Just so you know, oh

Mulder walked along the railroad tracks back to the Culpeper Amtrak train station. After an hour hiding among the trees, watching the platform as well as people making their way in and out of the enclosed waiting area, he felt assured that no one suspicious was about the place. There was a sign on the building stating a payphone was inside. Taking a deep breath, and a final scan over the few people milling about the platform on an early Saturday morning, Mulder walked out of the tree line and headed inside the station.

But once he stood in front of the payphone, he found that he didn’t exactly know what to do. There was no way he could get back on another train. They’d most likely be watching for that. Had they known he’d come from Charlottesville? Could he risk going back to that garage and getting his car? No, he couldn’t. So what the hell was he going to do? Grabbing the receiver, Mulder called information before dialing the number for the Culpeper Cab Company. Fifteen minutes later, he was in a cab heading south on Route 15 for Orange, a small town just 20 miles away.

After Mulder asked the driver to take him to a motel that was as secluded as possible, he was dropped off at Willow Grove Inn. The place was surrounded by large willow trees, and was in a quiet area where the closest neighbor was half a mile away, and it was nowhere near the downtown section of Orange. He rented a room, handing $70 over to the front desk clerk, and was soon lying down on a queen-sized bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was physically and mentally exhausted, but sleep would not come.

Failure. It was always failure with them. No matter how hard they tried to make things right, somehow things always went wrong. Why? The urge to go to her was overwhelming, knowing just how close he was to DC, and he toyed with the idea of just calling up another cab and going back home. Maybe cornering her in that darkened section of the street near her apartment building, if just to meet for a few minutes, to hold each other and speak words of reassurance, to strengthen their connection. But that would get them all killed. He could never go to them again. Never again would Mulder risk Scully’s life, nor could he allow his actions to cause any harm to befall his son. He had to stay away. There was no going back. Ever.

Mulder knew that he and Scully were suffering from their separation, but what would happen to William? What kind of father was he when he couldn’t even protect his boy? These alien replicants, or Super Soldiers, whatever they were, had their own ideas about William, ideas that they clearly thought Mulder was a threat to. Would they take him? Experiment on him? Try to use him somehow, for some evil, unknown purpose? And why was it one life or the other? Did they only fear some connection between father and son? Would he ever know the answer?

Mulder tried to sleep for several more minutes, but every time he closed his eyes he could see the platform passing, could see Scully standing on it, the wind whipping through her hair, as the train took him further and further away from her. Her voice resounded in his head, her pleading, desperate cries for him. He worried about William, and what would happen to his son. With a sharp pang, Mulder suddenly remembered Samantha’s diary, how much she’d suffered in her young life because of the decisions of their parents, and he began to weep bitterly. At last he cried himself to sleep, his grief finally pulling him under.

Mulder didn’t leave the room at all on Saturday, or on Sunday, but at 12:00 pm on Monday he pulled a phone card from his wallet and dialed the number for Monument Valley High School using the phone on the bedside table, and asked the office secretary if he could speak to Gibson Praise. Several minutes later, Gibson was on the line and Mulder proceeded to tell him about his intercepted meeting with Scully, and what happened in the rock quarry.

“You need to get back here,” Gibson said.

“I don’t know how I can,” he sighed. “I can’t go back for the Camaro. I can’t risk using public transportation. I guess I’ll just… I don’t know. Maybe stay in different places, keep on the move. Or maybe I’ll just stay in this room for the rest of my life, however long that is.”

“Mulder, you have to come back to the Rez,” spoke Gibson firmly, despite trying to keep his voice down, starting to feel even more worried over his friend’s detached tone of voice. “You’re not safe anywhere else.”

He shook his head, sighing. What was the point? He had zero motivation to do anything.

“Where are you?” Gibson asked. “What name are you using?”

“Room 21 at the Willow Grove Inn, Orange, Virginia,” he replied lifelessly. “I checked in under George Hale.”

Pausing, Gibson considered this. “Don’t leave. Stay there. Okay?”

Mulder sighed again, shrugging his shoulders in defeat. “Yeah. All right. I’ll stay here.”

“Promise me,” Gibson demanded.

“I promise,” he replied, more emphatically than anything else he’d said during the conversation. “I won’t leave this room.”

On Wednesday evening, April 18th, there was a knock on Mulder’s motel room door. Slowly reaching to pull his weapon free from its holster where it laid on the side table, widened eyes on the door, he got up off the bed and walked towards it. Standing in front of the door, he looked through the peephole. He balked, never in a million years expecting to see the person standing on the other side, and then opened the door.

Standing there with an unreadable expression, clad in dark blue jeans and a white University of Arizona t-shirt, her long dark brown hair falling straight over her shoulders, was Valerie Hosteen.

“Where’s… where’s Gibson?” Mulder asked her, still feeling a bit stunned to see her there.

“He’s in school,” replied Valerie, her tone of voice stern and serious. “Where he belongs. Did you really expect him to leave the Rez?”

He sighed. “I… I wasn’t sure what the kid was planning. I never thought you’d be the one to show up.”

She briefly averted her eyes, remembering their last meeting, but then looked back at him directly. “He said you needed help. I’m here to take you back. So, as soon as you get your stuff together, we can leave.”

Mulder nodded and turned around, heading towards the bathroom to collect his toiletries. He hadn’t unpacked much else. Ten minutes later, at 7:30 pm, they were in Valerie’s 1993 Ford F150 pickup truck, departing the Willow Grove Inn. After eight and a half hours of driving west on I-64, neither speaking very much, they arrived in Louisville, Kentucky around 4:00 am, where Valerie pulled into the parking lot of Biff’s Motel, just off the highway.

He remained in the truck while she walked into the office and rented two adjoining rooms, before returning and handing him a room key. Mulder crashed on top of the bed, not bothering to undress or turn down the covers, and lay there, feeling numb and disconnected. Somehow, he was eventually able to fall asleep. At noon on Thursday, they checked out and got back on the highway, heading west on I-64 towards St. Louis, where they merged onto highway I-70, and shortly after 8:00 pm they were driving into Kansas City, Missouri.

“I need to find an internet café,” Mulder said, the first words he’d spoken in hours. A sense of dread filled him, knowing what he had to do, wishing he could put it off longer, but also knowing that the sooner it was done the better.

Valerie sighed, nodding her head, and after a quick stop at a gas station to ask for directions, pulled the truck up to the curb in front of Marble Top Café. They walked in together, Valerie heading for the women’s room after telling Mulder what she wanted, and Mulder stepped over to the counter to order two coffees. Two minutes later she returned, and stood next to him as the young man behind the counter handed them their hot beverages. Valerie thanked him and after a brief awkward pause, she walked over to sit on the black leather couch in front of the large, floor-to-ceiling windows, her back to Mulder as he sat down at a circular wooden table in the corner. Only a few customers were inside, as it was less than an hour until closing time.

Mulder opened an internet browser, and taking a deep breath, butterflies filling his stomach, logged into his email account. There was one message in his inbox, dated three days prior.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
To: trust_no1@mail.com  
Date: Apr 16, 2001

I hold no hope you can respond to this. Or that it reaches you. I only hope that you are alive.

I cannot help believing that you jumped off that train because you knew what I now know – that these "super-soldiers," if that's what they are, can in fact be destroyed. That the key to their destruction lies in the iron compound at that quarry.

I am scared for you, Mulder. And for William. The forces against us are unrelenting. But so is my determination. To see you again. To regain the comfort and safety we shared for so brief a time.

Until then, I remain forever yours... Dana

*******************************************

Mulder stared at the screen, at first feeling a bit shocked that Scully would include the only known method for defeating the replicants in her message, when their communication was no doubt being watched. But he read her words over and over, tears filling his eyes and a lump growing in his throat. He closed his eyes, lowering his head. Scully was still holding onto some hope that eventually they could be together. But he knew the cold, hard truth. His hand on the mouse, he clicked the 'Reply' button and wrote one last message.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: trust_no1@mail.com  
To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
Date: Apr 19, 2001

Give the kid lots of hugs and kisses for me. Thank you for taking care of him every day, loving him every day. Despite everything we're up against, he's a lucky little boy to have a mother like you.

You will always be my constant, my touchstone. And I love you and William more than my own life. Never forget that, no matter what.

*******************************************

He would never see her or William. Mulder could never put them at risk again, and so he would never go to her. And it didn’t matter how many messages might be sent out into the world in the future, begging him to come home, he knew he never would. Their lives were far more precious than his own, and there could be no joy in a reunion that only led to their deaths. If he stayed away, there might be a chance they would leave William alone. It was a small one, but it was the only hope he had left.

He printed out Scully's email, and then returned to the computer. After a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed the mouse and clicked on the ‘My Account’ on the bottom left side of the screen. Seconds later, he sat there staring at the ‘Delete Account’ button, tears filling his eyes, his stomach going into knots. Biting down hard on his bottom lip, but unable to stop the tears from flowing, with a shaking hand he moved the cursor to hover over the link. Stifling a sob, Mulder clicked the button, trust_no1@mail.com suddenly no longer existing.

And Scully was gone. Never again could she contact him. Never again would he read any message from her. Never again would he learn something new about his son, or see pictures of him. Burying his head in his hands, Mulder broke down there in front of the computer, sounds of his cries filling the café. The few sitting around him looked at him and each other uncomfortably, not knowing what to do. Valerie stood up from the couch and turned around to look at Mulder. Her eyes widened in concern, and she hurriedly walked over to his table.

She crouched down beside him, gently grasping his right forearm and pulling his hand down from his face. “Hey, let’s get out of here,” she whispered, still holding onto him as she stood up. “Come on... let’s go.”

Mulder looked at the concern etched across her face, blurred through his tears, and choked back a sob as she pulled him up from the chair. Valerie walked him outside to the black pickup truck sitting on the curb, opening the passenger side door before he climbed in, and shutting it behind him. Three hours later, they arrived in Salina, Kansas, parking the truck in the lot of a Motel 6.

Valerie shut off the engine and unbuckled her seat belt, and turned to look at Mulder. He was staring out the window. He hadn’t said a word since they left the café, but he’d cried off and on during the three-hour drive. Once again, she walked into the motel office and got two adjoining rooms. After they’d unlocked and entered them, Valerie knocked on the door leading to Mulder’s room.

“What?” he sighed, after opening the door.

“I want you to leave the door unlocked,” she replied.

He stared at her for a moment. Her expression was unreadable, but he thought he might’ve seen a flicker of fear or anxiety in her eyes. “All right.”

Valerie nodded, and then closed the door. Several hours later, she awoke and stared out into the darkness, blinking herself awake, trying to discern why she might’ve woken up. The room was pitch black, except for the red light of the digital clock telling her it was 3:24 am. What day was it? It had to be Friday, the 20th. But then she heard it, what had awoken her. She sighed and sat up, before getting to her feet, grabbing the comforter off the bed and her pillow.

Walking over to the door to the adjoining room, she opened it, and immediately the sound of Mulder weeping became louder. She entered the room, shutting the door behind her, and walked over to the bed. She set her pillow and the comforter on the floor beside the bed, and laid down next to it. Although he must’ve heard her come in, he made no indication that he was aware of her presence, nor did his cries lessen. A few seconds later, she began softly singing the Navajo healing song her mother had taught her as a little girl. After a couple minutes, she listened to Mulder’s shuddering sobs, as he tried to catch his breath, and continued to sing softly until she heard the slow, steady breathing that told her he had fallen asleep.

At 11:00 am on Friday, April 20th, Valerie and Mulder checked out of the Motel 6 in Salina, Kansas, arriving in Pueblo, Colorado just after 9:00 pm. After spending the night in another motel, the two checked out in the early morning on Saturday and got back on the highway, crossing the Rocky Mountains, the Rio Grande National Forest, and the Colorado Plateau, before arriving back in Kayenta on the Navajo Indian Reservation shortly before 3:30 in the afternoon.

Gibson greeted Mulder at the door, and Valerie watched his eyes go wide and then his brow furrow, a look of compassionate suffering coming over his face, without Mulder ever speaking a word to him. She then watched them disappear inside. She sighed and turned to leave, absentmindedly fingering her keys as she stepped down off the porch and onto the concrete stairs, when the door behind her opened again. She turned around to see Mulder standing in the doorway, staring at her.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

Her mouth immediately parched, and she swallowed, butterflies filling her stomach. “You’re welcome,” she finally said, nodding her head slightly, giving him a half smile.

Mulder also gave her a slight nod of the head, before stepping back and closing the door.

*****

Absence was often considered to be the great bane of two lovers’ existence, the torment of their lives when forced to spend them apart. Absent from Scully, and now without any form of communication between them or hope of any, time seemed to lag on wings made of lead. Minutes became torturous hours, hours turned into miserable days, days into anguished weeks, and weeks into desperate months. For Mulder, existence had become a burden now that there was no longer any hope of seeing his partner again. It was becoming harder and harder not to go out and purchase _The New York Times_ in hopes there would be some communication from Scully, or to send a message via _The Washington Post_ , to create another email account and write her, or to say the hell with it all, pack up, and go home to her.

It also seemed that Gibson could no longer be alone with him in the trailer for long, Mulder guessing that perhaps his young friend needed another person’s thoughts to balance out the bleakness. Often, Cody spent the day there before returning home to his family in the evenings, and then Gibson usually invited Valerie over to have dinner with them. To Mulder’s surprise, she rarely ever turned down the invitation, despite the fact he wasn’t much company. But the more time went on, the more she greeted him with a smile, instead of a stern or unreadable expression, and the smile gradually started to extend all the way to her chestnut brown eyes, making him almost believe it was genuine.

Late on Wednesday night, July 11th, Mulder lay awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling, a battle raging in his mind, growing fiercer with each passing minute. The turmoil he felt was unlike anything he’d felt since returning to the reservation. He tried with all his heart to believe that he had done the right thing by staying away from Scully, and William. He fought hard to remember the menacing words of that Super Soldier, that either he or his son must die, and exactly how they had sounded. But this threat was no longer proving to be enough to keep Mulder away from his family. He didn’t know how much longer he could last without them, even though returning to them would be detrimental and dangerous, the consequences of such he’d no doubt regret for the rest of his life. But he still found his determination weakening.

However, in the back of Mulder’s mind he knew there was something he could do, something that would seal his fate. That even if there suddenly was hope he could return, or a desperate message reached him begging him to come home, he never would, he’d never give in and go to her. There was something that would give him the opportunity to move on without Scully and William, leaving him without even a glimmer of hope that they could be together again at some point in the future. Because if he took advantage of this opportunity, he’d never go back to Scully even if he somehow could. Because she’d never want him back. She’d never trust him again. She’d never let him touch her again, never let him near their son. And maybe he’d finally be able to numb himself, would be able to forget about the woman he loved, forget about his family, and once again live selfishly only for himself. Maybe then he could stop thinking, could stop feeling.

Mulder watched the numbers on the digital clock turn from 11:59 to 12:00. It was midnight and officially a new day. There was only one place in town still open. He quickly rolled out of bed and got to his feet before he could change his mind. After dressing into blue jeans and a gray long-sleeved shirt, he left the bedroom, grabbing his black leather jacket from the closet on his way towards the front door. It may have been a hot 85o from almost the moment the run rose until it disappeared beyond the horizon, but the desert was frigid right now, the temperature rarely ever rising above 50o at night.

Ten minutes later, he was walking through the door to the bar in the basement of a long-closed restaurant. He glanced over the white Christmas lights over the bar and running from corner to corner along the ceiling. The place wasn’t all that busy, only a few regulars inside, but Mulder wasn’t surprised as it rarely had much of a crowd on a weeknight. One staff member circled the tables, Tim Yazzie, making sure the patrons got what they wanted, while the bartender looked after the few men sitting at the counter. Mulder stood in the doorway, watching her tall frame move around behind the bar, and she looked over at him in surprise, but then she smirked, teasing and seductive.

He walked over to sit by himself on a stool at the left side of the bar, away from the others. A moment later Valerie was standing in front of him, her hair pulled back from her face with elastic, wearing her usual work wardrobe: snug white shorts and a tight white tank top that emphasized her breasts, neither large nor small, and if one looked closely enough, the small impressions her piercings made into the white top were clearly visible. This ‘uniform’ was of course designed to show off her long legs and just enough tan cleavage to earn her lots of tips. Mulder immediately felt unnerved.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been in here,” she said by way of greeting, giving him a small smile. “What’ll you have?”

He nodded, remembering the first night back on the reservation from his failed attempt to see Scully and William, staying at the bar until closing time and Valerie having to drive him home. He also remembered her parting words. _“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about what happened out there. But you don’t have to be so alone in the world if you don’t want to be. Gibson’s really worried about you, and a lot of other people are too.”_

“Tequila shots.”

She considered him a moment, eyeing him with some concern, and then turned to reach for the bottle and two shot glasses, before setting them down in front of him and pouring the liquor. He quickly downed both, and then asked for a third. Valerie pursed her lips and then reached for the bottle again.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked, pouring the tequila into a clean shot glass.

“Do you ask this question to all your customers?” he replied, tilting his head as though considering what she’d said as he grabbed the glass, and then he drank it.

Valerie pursed her lips. “So did something happen today?”

Mulder stared at her, his eyes momentarily pulled down to her breasts, and for an instant he gazed, until suddenly a vision of them bare flashed in his mind and he quickly looked back up to her face, motioning for another shot.

She gave him a sympathetic look, and reluctantly poured it, before gathering the empty shot glasses and placing them in a plastic basin under the bar. He tossed back the shot, slightly shuddering as the liquor burned his throat. He then closed his eyes as he banged the glass back down on bar’s dark wood surface. Mulder was trying to gather some Dutch courage, but he didn’t think it was working. A fifth shot of tequila didn’t seem to help either.

She wasn’t so bad to be around, and he’d been growing to like her recently. But the notion of falling into a pattern of alcohol-induced sex with Valerie was not something he could easily wrap his head around. It might be able to numb him for a while, maybe even years if she was willing to put up with him for that long. Maybe he could even completely forget everything that he’d lost, although that day was far off into the future, if it ever came at all. But now faced with the prospect of acting on this, he found himself wavering. Sex with Scully was intimate, filled with everything they knew about each other, it was passionate, filled with mingling breath and hot need, and it was loving, filled with warm sentiment and tender affection. The idea of sleeping with another woman besides Scully was deeply unsettling, and filled him with fear.

“Another,” he said to Valerie.

But she shook her head, and decisively placed the check down on the bar in front of him.

Mulder balked, growing irritated. “Why do you even care?”

“I’ve been asking myself that since the day you got here,” Valerie replied, crossing her arms, and he averted his eyes. She then turned towards the clock on the wall, watching it strike 1:00 am, and called out to the room. “Closing time!”

The handful of patrons inside the bar grumbled a bit about her closing early, but then started paying their tabs. Mulder reached for his wallet and placed a wad of bills on the bar, before sliding off the stool and closing his eyes as a wave of dizziness came over him. He tottered slightly, and then glanced back at Valerie to see if she’d noticed. She had, judging by her pursed lips and frustrated body language. Mulder shrugged, and then started to walk a little unsteadily towards the exit.

Leaving the closing procedures to Tim, Valerie followed Mulder out the door, quickly catching up to him and steering him towards her truck. Less than two minutes later, she was pulling into the driveway of his trailer. She watched him open the passenger side door and slide out, stumbling to steady himself. Sighing, she got out of the truck and walked around, grabbing Mulder by the arm and walking him up to the porch.

He handed her his keys, and she unlocked the door, walking with him inside the trailer. Valerie managed to get Mulder from the front door to his room quietly, where he proceeded to sit down on the edge of the bed as she closed the door. She walked over to the bedside table and turned on the old lamp, the bulb flickering for a moment, but then lit the room steadily. She stood with her back against the wall, staring at him as he sat hunched over.

In the hushed silence of the bedroom, Mulder looked up and their eyes met in a silent communication that might’ve been his undoing, if not for one thing.

“I love Scully,” he whispered.

“I know,” she answered quietly.

Mulder bent his head, once again staring at his feet. “Why do you like me?”

She grinned, and sighed. “Silent brooders are my Kryptonite. I’m a sucker for people who desperately need my help. Especially children. And you have this whole lost-child-far-from-home… thing. I mean, let’s face it, Gibson’s the adult here.”

He sighed. “My head is spinning.”

“I’m not surprised after five shots of very strong tequila,” replied Valerie. “Lie down.”

“I… don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mulder said, looking up at her apprehensively, but then averting his gaze, suddenly feeling awkward.

She rolled her eyes. “While I’ve no doubt that the sex would be, uh, memorable…”

He snorted. “Nice choice of words.”

“There’s a reason I earned straight A’s in English,” she smirked. “Anyways, I prefer my sexual partners to be in complete control of their faculties. So, I’m gonna go.”

“Valerie?” he said as she was walking towards the bedroom door.

She turned around and looked at him. “What?”

Mulder paused, considering. “You really should go back to school and get your degree. You’re wasting your life away working in that bar.”

Valerie eyed him, grinning. “Why do you care?”

“Think of all the children who desperately need your help,” he said, looking back down at his feet.

“I’d like to help you,” she whispered.

Mulder sighed. “You can’t. No one can.”

With a silent nod, she walked out the bedroom door, shutting it as quietly as possible behind her, and left the trailer.

*****

Every day, Mulder’s mind became more of a battleground, cluttered with tangled rationalizations or condemnations of the choices he’d made. The hopeless depression he’d sunk into was filling his head with confusing thoughts. One part of his mind, the part wracked with depression and guilt, told him that he had no right to live, that it would be better off for everyone if he was dead. Another part, the part that spoke to him in Scully’s voice, fought back, telling him he wanted and needed to live. He tried to hold onto life and force himself to believe that he’d made the right decisions. Some days he was successful, at other times he was not. But the more time went on, the more he failed to see any reason why he should continue living.

These were thoughts he was forced to control, to hide, whenever Gibson was around, and was thankful that in the summer vacation months, he always had quite a few friends hanging out in the trailer, usually playing video games, filling up the living room with their laughter. If Mulder thought he was going to be alone with Gibson for any extended amount of time, he’d leave the trailer and head over to the diner. At night, he frequently visited the bar, and subsequently had to be often driven home by Valerie Hosteen. But unlike that night several weeks ago, she never set foot inside the trailer.

Later in the summer, the nearby Hopi Reservation was having a large dance, and Cody’s family invited Gibson to go with them for the trip. They would be staying overnight, and returning home the following day. On Friday, August 3rd, Mulder watched Gibson excitedly pack his backpack, his young friend glad to get out and do something fun before school started up again on Monday.

On Saturday evening, Mulder sat on his bed, reading every email he had from Scully, gazing at every picture he had of her and William. Sobs wracked his body as he clutched the pictures in his hand. Was this really what his life was going to be like from now on? He couldn’t live without them. He didn’t want to live without them. Looking up, his tearful gaze fell on the weapon holster lying on top of the dresser. He let out a few shuddering sobs, catching his breath, and stared at it, tears streaming down his face.

Shortly after 8:30 pm, the Cloud family’s red pickup truck pulled up in front of the trailer Gibson shared with Mulder, and he hopped out of the back. The dance had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced, and he couldn’t wait to go to more of them. He thanked Cody’s parents for letting him come along, but apologized for turning down their invitation to head to the McDonald’s in town and get some ice cream. He then waved as he watched them drive back towards the mobile park’s entrance, heading for the fast food restaurant. With his backpack over his shoulders, Gibson climbed the concrete steps and entered the screened-in porch, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach, before unlocking the front door and stepping inside.

Immediately, his eyes widened and he gasped, hurrying as quickly as he could through the living room to Mulder’s bedroom door. He tried to open it, but it was locked. Gibson then pounded his fist.

“Mulder, don’t do this! Don’t! Open the door!” He pounded again.

His hand shaking, Mulder stared at the gun in his grasp. He couldn’t stop crying. With just one pull of the trigger, all his pain would end. Scully and William would be safe, much safer, if he no longer existed. It would be quick and painless, he probably wouldn’t feel a thing. But Gibson was out there, banging on the door, and he could feel his resolve weakening.

Gibson sensed the debate now going on inside Mulder and pounded again, pleading with him to open the door, but he made no movement from where he was sitting on the bed. Gibson was frantic, and wished they had a telephone. He didn’t know of anyone in the trailer park who did.

“Help,” he gasped, talking to himself and still twisting the doorknob that wouldn’t budge. “I need help.”

He turned and ran through the living room and out the front door, down the gravel road and out of Manuelito Mobile Park. Five minutes later, he was running into the old basement bar next to the video rental store, Valerie’s head flying up from where she was wiping down the counters, preparing for the night’s business.

“Gibson? What are you doing here?”

“Mulder needs help!” he panted. “Please! You have to come!”

She quickly walked out from behind the bar, approaching Gibson as he stood in the doorway, where he promptly grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled them out through the door.

“What’s the matter?” she asked frantically. “What’s happened?”

Still pulling her, he told her that Mulder was going to use his gun on himself. Valerie balked, and they rushed to where her truck was parked on the curb. They sped to the mobile park, and a minute later they were running through the yard and up the steps to the porch, and in through the front door. Breathing a sigh of relief, Gibson pounded on the door again.

“Mulder, open the door!”

“How do you know he hasn’t… already?” she asked, her brows knitted, her stomach in knots of anxiety.

He was breathing heavily, still banging on the door. “I can hear him in there.”

Valerie concentrated, but couldn’t discern any sounds coming from the bedroom. “What do you mean? I don’t hear anything.”

“I can hear him thinking,” Gibson stated matter-of-factly, and then turned towards the door, pounding again. “I can hear you, Mulder! Agent Scully would never let you do it! She’d do everything she could to stop you! Now open the door! Don’t do this!”

Valerie stared at him in confusion for a moment, not knowing what Gibson meant by that. But she quickly pushed him aside, grabbed hold of the doorknob, and threw her body full force into the door, busting it open. It slammed against the wall, practically shaking the whole trailer. Mulder was still sitting on the bed, crying, holding the pictures tightly in his left hand and the gun in his right. The two parts of his brain, his own voice condemning him and Scully's voice pleading with him, were still battling it out. Gibson made to enter the bedroom, but Valerie held her arm out, blocking him.

“You’re not going in there,” she said firmly.

“But…,” he started to reply.

She shook her head, and removed the keys to her truck from her pocket, handing them to Gibson. “Do you know how to drive?”

He tilted his head slightly. “Cody’s dad has been teaching us.”

“I want you to drive back to the bar,” she said. “Behind a blue door there is a room with a telephone. You’re going to get on the phone and call my father. You’re going to tell him everything that’s been going on with Mulder. Do you understand?”

Gibson nodded, taking the keys from her.

“The phone number is 505-555-7…” she started to tell him.

But he was already heading towards the front door. “I got it,” he called back to her, and then he was gone.

Valerie turned her attention towards Mulder, and started walking slowly towards him. “Please put down the gun.”

He turned and looked directly in her eyes, tears flowing. He’d lost the battle the moment he’d heard Gibson first pound on the door. Or maybe he’d won, depending on how one looked at it.

“You’re better than this,” she said. “You know this isn’t right. As long as there’s life, there’s hope. Don’t give up.”

Taking a deep breath, Mulder holstered his weapon, placing it behind his back on top of the mattress. Valerie stepped over, grabbing it, and took it out to the kitchen, placing it in a drawer, before she returned to the bedroom. Fifteen minutes later, Gibson walked back inside the trailer.

“Your father will be here tomorrow,” he told her.

“Good,” she replied, and left the bedroom to sit on the couch in the living room, leaving the two friends alone.

Gibson walked over to him, and placed a hand on Mulder’s shoulder, before sitting down beside him on the bed. Mulder sighed, wiping the tears from his face, his mind still a mental battleground. “What’s Michael Hosteen gonna do?” he asked.

“She’s going to ask him to help you,” replied Gibson. “Something about… doing something for you that her grandfather would do. It wasn’t clear. Your thoughts were too loud. And I was trying to concentrate on them.”

Mulder wrapped his arm around Gibson’s shoulder, silently thanking him, still not knowing who exactly he felt sorrier for, and starting to wonder what it was that Albert Hosteen would do for him if he’d been there.


	111. "This place. You carry it with you. It is inside of you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Navajo people step in to help Mulder, who ends up having an unexpected nocturnal visit. He then experiences an awakening.
> 
> Disclaimer: While I have done a lot of research, I am not an expert on the Navajo people and their traditions. The ceremony described here is a fictional adaptation of the real thing.
> 
> Sidenote #1: Thank you to everyone for your continued support, your comments, and kudos. Especially to those who have stuck around since September when I posted the very first chapter. I'm sure it must sometimes feel like a long time to wait for a story to finish.
> 
> Sidenote #2: Shout-out to Glen Morgan, who will never see this, for being generous and gracious and just really cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mumford & Sons - "Awake My Soul"
> 
> How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes  
> I struggle to find any truth in your lies  
> And now my heart stumbles on things I don't know  
> My weakness I feel I must finally show
> 
> Lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all  
> But lend me your heart and I'll just let you fall  
> Lend me your eyes, I can change what you see  
> But your soul you must keep totally free  
> Har har, har har, har har, har har
> 
> In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die  
> And where you invest your love, you invest your life  
> In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die  
> Where you invest your love, you invest your life
> 
> Awake my soul  
> Awake my soul  
> Awake my soul  
> For you were made to meet your maker
> 
> Awake my soul  
> Awake my soul  
> Awake my soul  
> For you were made to meet your maker  
> You were made to meet your maker

On August 5th, Mulder stood in front of the mirror at the bathroom sink, shaving. He wasn’t sure why he continued to regularly shave, there was no reason to. He supposed old habits die hard. But this ordinary, everyday ritual felt different today. Maybe it was the intensity with which he glared back at his reflection. The events of the night before weighed heavily upon him. After sitting with him for some time, Gibson had left the bedroom. Even though the bedroom door had been shut, he’d thought he heard the sounds of the kid crying and Valerie’s muffled voice. Mulder’s mind was consumed with guilt and self-loathing, and the hopeless depression was still there underneath. He couldn’t really be sure that something like that wouldn’t happen again.

As he shaved, he heard a knock on the front door. Glancing down at his watch, Mulder wondered who would show up at the trailer before 8:00 am on a Sunday. Without bothering to wipe the shaving cream from his face, he stepped out of the bathroom and walked down the laminate flooring of the short hallway until it reached the carpet of the living room. For a brief second, he stopped and stared at the sight of Valerie and Gibson asleep on the couch. There was something very motherly about the way Valerie’s arm wrapped around the kid, and it knotted his stomach. A second knock tore Mulder’s eyes away from them.

He walked briskly through the living room to the front door and opened it to find Michael Hosteen, his son Eric, and two Navajo men whom he didn’t know. After shaking hands with Michael and Eric, Mulder stepped aside, holding the door open for them to enter the trailer. He glanced back over to the couch, noticing that Valerie and Gibson were now awake and sitting up, as the four men walked inside.

Michael Hosteen, upon seeing his daughter, still clad in her standard work attire, stopped and glared, his eyes narrowing, and then threw a suspicious look in Mulder’s direction. Averting her eyes, Valerie quickly left the trailer without a word and walked to her truck in the driveway, grabbed her blousy tunic from the front seat, and walked back inside as her father was introducing Mulder to the man he’d brought with him.

“This is Kee Tso,” Michael Hosteen said. “He’s a medicine man."

Valerie snorted.

Father and daughter locked eyes, one giving off frustrated disapproval and the other annoyance. Eric Hosteen glanced at the ceiling and sighed. Mulder felt the air in the room suddenly become awkward, and he glanced down at Gibson, who only pursed his lips. He turned his attention back to Kee Tso, a 65 year old serious-faced man who wore his long gray hair in a braid down his back and a blue bandana tied around his forehead. He was also adorned with a long turquoise necklace and elaborate bracelets, which seemed out of place with his blue jeans and striped long-sleeved shirt. A large, intricately-designed bronze belt buckle hugged his rounded belly. The man also held a briefcase in his right hand, and Mulder thought it looked like one of those bags that a pharmaceutical rep would carry around office parks and hospitals.

“And this is Kee Tso’s grandson, Larry Chee,” continued Michael Hosteen.

Mulder nodded and reached out to shake hands with the medicine man’s baby-faced grandson. The young man, who wore a straw hat and a blue handkerchief tied around his neck along with a red button down shirt and a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off, couldn’t be older than 30. As they shook hands, Larry smiled easily, radiating warmth. Mulder immediately liked him.

Gibson and Valerie grabbed the four wooden chairs from the round dining table and set them down in the living room. Soon everyone was seated. Eric sat with Valerie and Gibson on the couch, while Mulder sat in one chair facing the three others.

“My grandfather does speak some English,” said Larry, who sat on Kee Tso’s right side, while Michael Hosteen sat on the other. “But he’s much more comfortable speaking Navajo. So, I’ll be interpreting for him.”

Mulder nodded, and entwined his hands in his lap. He wasn’t sure why they were there, only that Valerie had called her father for help, and he didn’t know what to expect.

Michael Hosteen looked at him directly. “Last night, I received a phone call from your young friend that you were having some serious trouble and needed help.”

“I think we should hold a Nidáá for him,” Valerie spoke up.

Everyone’s eyes widened, except for Mulder and Gibson.

“He’s isn’t a Navajo,” said Michael.

“But grandfather performed the Blessing Way for him,” she said. “What’s the difference?”

At these words, Kee Tso turned his head to look at Mulder, and said something in Navajo. Mulder looked to Larry, who then interpreted, “So you’re the FBI man whom the Holy People healed.”

Mulder nodded, swallowing. “Um… what’s a Nidáá?”

“It’s the Enemy Way Ceremony,” answered Michael. “It’s performed for people to get rid of evil things in their lives, to restore balance, to heal their damaged minds.”

He slowly turned his head towards the couch, throwing Valerie a sarcastic look. She looked back at him with a defiantly arched eyebrow, but also a slightly teasing smirk. Gibson chuckled. Mulder then looked back at the Navajo men sitting in front of him, and instantly felt uneasy under Kee Tso’s calculating gaze. He then began speaking in Navajo.

“For the Navajo, all things have a cause and all things have their effect,” Larry interpreted. “We must find the offending source of your illness, whether that’s witchcraft, offending the Holy People, contact with an enemy, or anything that could upset the necessary harmony for your health.”

Kee Tso continued speaking in Navajo.

Larry looked from his grandfather, back to Mulder. “He wants to know what has happened to you.”

Heaving a deep sigh, Mulder began to relate the threat against himself and Scully, and their son. He told them of William’s miraculous conception, the dangers that had surrounded his birth, and the enemies this had brought against them. He told them of the events in Culpeper, Virginia, his infiltrated meeting with Scully, the terrible statement made by that Super Soldier. He told them he no longer wanted to live without his partner and son.

The medicine man grimaced all through this speech, closing his eyes and turning his head skyward. Out of the corner of his eye, Mulder noticed Gibson staring down at his lap and Valerie’s fixed gaze in his direction. Mulder refused to look over at them. And then Kee Tso, head still turned towards the ceiling, began speaking in Navajo, using hand gestures to emphasize whatever points he was making. Mulder wasn’t sure whether he was annoyed by the story he’d just been told or if he was trying to channel some spiritual guidance. The medicine man then stood from the chair and walked over to where Mulder sat, and placed one hand atop his head, closing his eyes and speaking in Navajo.

His grandson interpreted. “When woman loves man, he gives her strength. When man loves woman, she gives him weakness. There is a sharing of power. The two together, man and woman, are very powerful. When man and woman are separated, a gloom falls over them. They lose vitality and their love for life. They desire for each other’s company, and their only wish is to be together. Man will have no taste for food, no sound sleep, no stability, and no peace of mind. His mind is troubled at all times.” Larry paused as his grandfather continued to speak in Navajo, before resuming. “Yes, you are very troubled.”

Kee Tso returned to his bag and pulled out a sacred medicine pouch, before returning to stand in front of Mulder. Reaching into the pouch with his right thumb and forefinger, the medicine man began sprinkling something yellow over his patient’s head and shoulders.

“What is this?” asked Mulder.

“Bee pollen,” replied Larry.

He sighed. Damn bees.

The medicine man then handed the pouch to his grandson, and turned back to Mulder, holding out his shaking hands over him. Soon, the old man fell into some kind of trance, a few minutes later awakening as if from a dream. He turned and spoke Navajo to Larry and Michael Hosteen.

Michael nodded in agreement as Larry began to interpret. “In my grandfather’s dream, he went to the Sacred Mountain and asked the Holy People how to treat you and restore your hozhó: beauty, harmony, balance, and health. The Holy People instructed him to perform the Enemy Way Ceremony to heal you.”

Mulder turned to the medicine man as he walked back over to his chair. “How will you treat me?”

Kee Tso answered in Navajo, and Larry explained. “He will go to the Sacred Mountain and ask the gods how to treat you. He will gather the correct herbs and plants, and place them in a medicine bundle, which will be given to you. Then we will have the Enemy Way Ceremony. He will also build a fire and talk to the different gods, inviting them into the hogan. The ceremony will last quite a few hours. Women come. There the people will perform the correct dances and chants to counteract your state of imbalance.”

“But… does it work?” asked Mulder doubtfully. The night before he’d come close to eating his gun, and while he didn’t doubt that Albert Hosteen’s Blessing Way Ceremony had saved him in the past, he wasn’t sure whether anything would be able to cure what ailed him. Nothing could give him Scully. Nothing could reunite him with her and William. He still couldn’t see any light at the end of the dark tunnel that was his current life.

The three men sitting in front of him, Kee Tso and his grandson and Michael Hosteen, all looked at him with fixed stares and knitted eyebrows as if to say, ‘Well of course it works, you damn fool. If it didn’t, why would we bother?’

Then the medicine man resumed speaking in Navajo, with Larry interpreting. “The Enemy Way Ceremony will put you back together in one piece. All the evil will be left behind. It has helped many people.” He paused, listening to his grandfather’s Navajo, and then concluded. “You must have this ceremony. The Holy People need to help you because without you, there is no hope.”

The others in the room looked curiously at Mulder, who felt uneasy at what Kee Tso had seemingly just implied. They made arrangements to hold the ceremony the following month. The medicine man claimed he was very busy with other ceremonies that had already been reserved, as it was now very hard for people to find real medicine men these days, the practice quickly becoming a lost art. Holding an Enemy Way Ceremony also took time and a lot of preparation, as the entire local community usually gets involved. Mulder and Gibson watched their visitors leave. While one felt apprehensive and skeptical, the other felt hopeful and excited.

*****

At 2:10 am on Saturday, September 1st, Valerie pulled into the driveway of the trailer Mulder shared with Gibson, and put the truck into park, but she didn’t turn off the ignition. She glanced over at Mulder, where he sat intoxicated in the passenger seat, staring out the window.

She pursed her lips. “I’m not coming inside, you know.”

He sighed. “I know.”

“If you want me to come inside one of these nights, you’re gonna have to stop drinking so much,” said Valerie.

“Maybe I don’t wanna go inside either,” Mulder retorted dryly, giving her a hard look for her assumption. He then sighed again, and opened the passenger side door, sliding out. Just as he was about to shut the door, she called back his attention.

“We’re going to be putting ‘Squaw Dance’ signs up around town today and tomorrow,” Valerie told him. “So everyone will know that we’re putting on a Nidáá.”

Mulder gave her a puzzled look. “Isn’t squaw a derogatory term?”

She grinned, nodding. “In many Native American cultures it is, yes, but the Navajo typically take no offense to it. I honestly have no idea why we call it that. Maybe it’s because women actually attend this particular ceremony. But it’s not a Navajo word and most of us don’t use it with disrespect.” Valerie smiled at him. “Are you nervous?”

“I don’t really know what to expect,” he replied. “I don’t see how it can possibly help. But I’m willing to give it a try… if they’re gonna go through so much trouble.”

Valerie nodded, and he started to shut the passenger side door, but then she spoke again. “Oh, and Mulder…?”

He looked at her and their eyes met. Silence hung between them momentarily as her eyes sparkled back at him.

“Come by some night when you’re sober.”

Mulder sighed and shut the door, before standing and watching her pull out of the driveway. He then turned and started walking towards the trailer. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, moonlight and starlight shining brightly above. He glanced at the lawn chairs, folded and leaning against the side of the porch. As his right hand grasped the metal railing and he placed one foot on the first concrete step, a familiar voice startled him.

“What the hell are you doing, man?”

He spun around, and stared wide-eyed at three men standing in his moonlit front yard, three friends whom he thought he’d never see again: Frohike, Langly, and Byers. Mulder’s mouth fell open and he gaped. “What are you doing here?” he asked, shocked.

“Never mind us,” said Frohike, glowering at him. “What are you doing with Pocahontas in the pickup truck?”

“I…,” Mulder started to reply, blinking at them. “What? Nothing.”

His three friends looked at him sadly.

“How the hell did you find me?” he asked them, his eyes darting between them, still not understanding why or how they were there.

They glanced at each other. “That’s not important,” Langly said. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“You need to hear us out,” added Frohike.

“And stop this downward spiral of self-loathing,” Byers concluded.

He continued to stare at them. “How did you even…” But his words trailed off as a passing car sent a rock from the gravel road flying right through Frohike’s leg, and he hadn’t appeared to notice. Was Mulder drunker than he had thought? Was he having a hallucination? But his friends seemed real.

“Have you seriously resigned yourself to living out the rest of your days in a drunken haze with that Navajo chickadee with the tattoos and body piercings?” asked Frohike.

“Why are giving up on your family?” Langly snapped.

Mulder didn’t know which question to address first, and looked between his friends, still feeling utterly confused. He then sighed. “Look, nothing’s going on with her.”

Langly twitched his mouth in disapproval. “Not yet.”

“I’m not… giving up on them,” Mulder said, sighing. “But I can’t ever go back to them. It puts them in too much danger.”

“They’re in danger whether you’re there or not,” Frohike replied. “But you’re right. You can’t go back. Not yet.”

He looked at them, swallowing. “When?”

Byers gave Mulder a sympathetic look. “We’re not sure.”

“There are some things even we don’t know,” said Frohike.

“Whatever,” he muttered, and stumbled back towards the trailer.

Langly turned to his two companions, and spoke, lowering his voice. “What if he’s too far gone?”

Byers looked worried. “This is not how this was supposed to go.”

“Maybe we should just tell him,” Frohike suggested.

“We can’t,” said Langly. “It’s too risky. He’d probably run back home first thing in the morning.”

“We don’t know that,” retorted Frohike. “Anyways, I’m sure it’ll all work out like it’s supposed to. Isn’t that what fate is?”

“He still has to make choices!” Langly argued, whispering harshly. “We have to help him make the right ones!”

Mulder sighed as he once again grasped the metal railing on the concrete steps leading up to the porch and turned around. “What the hell are you stooges mumbling about?”

Stepping forward, Mulder staring at the fact his right foot was now standing right through Gibson’s abandoned softball glove, Byers spoke almost frantically. “We were sent here to tell you that the time is coming very soon. A decision needs to be made, a decision about William. Scully can’t do it on her own. You have to help her make the right choice. Only you can do it.”

“What are you…? What are you talking about?” he demanded. “Christ, I feel you guys are talking in circles.”

“Well, maybe you should lay off the booze,” Langly pointed out.

Mulder’s eyes narrowed in his friend’s direction. “You tell me I can’t go back to Scully yet. And then you tell me I need to help her. Which is it?”

Frohike gave him a knowing smile. “You can help her from here.”

Scoffing, Mulder shook his head in disbelief.

“The dream where you go to Scully and William on the beach,” spoke Byers. “When was the last time you went there?”

He couldn’t really remember, it had been months ago, and Mulder sighed, shrugging his shoulders in defeat. But then he furrowed his brows in confusion, and he looked at them suspiciously. “I never told you boys about that…”

The Lone Gunmen exchanged amused looks.

“We heard through the grapevine there’s going to be an Enemy Way Ceremony for you next weekend,” Langly said.

He rolled his eyes. “I doubt it’ll do me any good.”

Frohike gave him a look. “Since when were you a skeptic?”

“Mulder, listen to me,” Byers implored. “You _have_ to believe. Only then can you help Scully do what she needs to do; for William’s sake, for hers, and for your own. You have no idea how imperative this is!”

“I…,” he sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead. “Is this even real? Or is this just inside my head?” he muttered to himself.

The Gunmen smiled at him. “Why can’t it be both?” Langly asked.

Mulder opened his eyes and stared at them, at their bodies in the moonlight, at Byers’ foot still standing through the softball glove, and realization dawned. “You’re… you’re dead?"

Langly chuckled. "We're alive... in spirit."

"Would you please stop making that stupid joke already?" responded Frohike, clearly exasperated.

"You're ghosts?" asked Mulder, eyes widening.

“We prefer paranormal entities,” said Byers.

“But how…?” Mulder started to ask, before he was interrupted.

The front door flew open, and Gibson stepped out onto the porch. “Who are you talking to, Mulder?”

He turned back to look at his young friend. “You… don’t see them? Or hear them?”

“Who?” Gibson asked him, brows knitting, wondering just how much he had had to drink. “I heard you having a conversation with no one.”

Mulder turned back around towards the Lone Gunmen but they were gone, vanished into thin air.

*****

By Saturday afternoon, everyone in the northern Arizona area of the Navajo Indian Reservation knew that an Enemy Way Ceremony was going to be held that week, thanks to the ‘Squaw Dance’ signs and announcements on the local radio station. The whole community was coming together to help the FBI man, excitement spreading through town over an Enemy Way Ceremony being done for an outsider.

Just outside of Kayenta, a large, temporary hogan was constructed for the ceremony on Sunday morning as well as a hogan-shaped brush arbor on the southwest side that would serve as the cook shed for the serving of food and beverages to those in attendance. Generally, the patient and his family would prepare the food in one room of the shed while in the other the patient’s wife and her family would receive guests. But everyone knew that the FBI man had no wife and no family with him. Most people believed this to be the cause of his illness, and his neighbors generously came together to prepare the ceremony on his behalf, although Mulder gladly handed over several thousand dollars to ensure this didn’t become a burden on anyone.

On Monday evening, September 3rd, a meeting night kicked off the Enemy Way Ceremony, which would last six days in total. Many visitors, including friends and relatives of the Hosteens, arrived from all over the reservation. Mulder insisted that no one make donations, but found that it was useless to argue against such deeply-rooted traditions. The hogan proved to be too small for everyone, despite building a larger one than normal, and many people ended up standing outside.

Inside the hogan, Mulder’s eyes darted around at the others gathered inside, including the Hosteen family and their relatives, Gibson, and the medicine man, Kee Tso, and his family. Mulder listened to long discussions in both Navajo and some English, not quite understanding what was happening. But it turned out that Mulder’s acting family, the Hosteens and Gibson, were discussing who was to receive the ceremonial staff, a foot and a half long juniper branch decorated with colorful yarn and eagle feathers. The receiver of the staff became the official person responsible for healing the patient, Mulder, and was a huge responsibility. Unsurprisingly, everyone agreed it should be Kee Tso.

Throughout the evening, a reception was provided at the cook shed for the many visitors, where mutton stew, fry bread, and hot coffee were served. It soon turned into a social event, with many warm greetings and the sharing of stories. In the late evening, to conclude the meeting night, the visitors stood in front of the hogan facing east, and began to sing sacred songs in Navajo.

Mulder’s mind wandered. Were the Gunmen really dead? Ever since he’d woken up late on Saturday morning, he’d tried to remember the conversation they’d had, but he could only focus on bits and pieces. Everything else was a blur. Had he dreamed it? Had he hallucinated some friendly faces in his drunken haze of loneliness? And how could the Lone Gunmen be truly dead? It was impossible, unimaginable.

On Tuesday morning, the Hosteens, Mulder, and Gibson traveled to Kee Tso’s home, some 18 miles north of Kayenta, where they brought the medicine man the donations from the previous night. This was where they officially offered him the ceremonial staff, which he agreed to receive on Friday night. Mulder kept internally grumbling, wondering why in the world the process took so long, and Gibson kept fighting a grin. Valerie often gazed between them with her brows knitted in curiosity, wondering if Gibson’s statement about reading Mulder’s thoughts was actually true.

On Friday evening, September 7th, the community gathered at the ceremonial camp, where the main event would take place, the Enemy Way Ceremony, drawing an even larger crowd than Monday night. Still dressed in the blue bandana around his head, his gray hair braided, wearing the turquoise necklace, Kee Tso stood inside the hogan holding the ceremonial staff. Once Mulder was instructed to sit down on the floor, on top of a buckskin, after being completely stripped of his clothing and given a ceremonial bath, the medicine man and his helpers, including his grandson Larry Chee, began singing Enemy Way songs as they worked around the hogan.

Sitting close to Mulder was Gibson, who looked up, eyes widening, as Valerie Hosteen entered the hogan, wearing a traditional woven biil dress, sleeveless and white, with a red and black Navajo print going across the chest and thighs. Her hair was done in a traditional braid, around her neck was a squash blossom necklace, and her feet were adorned with traditional brown moccasins with attached white deerskin leggings, forming something like a boot that ended a few inches below her knee.

Mulder thought she really could pass for Pocahontas now. “I didn’t think you went in for all this traditional stuff,” he said to her as she walked over.

“I don’t,” she replied. “I tend to think chants and prayers and dances and waving a stick around to be complete bullshit. But…” She sighed. “I know it has helped people. And I’m willing to try whatever possible when it’s important to me.”

“This is important?” Mulder asked, and then immediately wished he hadn’t.

Their eyes locked, and she swallowed, unable to reply. At the sight of Gibson, Valerie smiled, and approached him.

“You look so pretty,” he said, gazing at her.

“Thank you, Gibson,” she replied, smiling. “That’s so sweet.”

She then turned, and walked over to her father. Mulder looked over at his young friend, who was now blushing profusely, and meeting his eye, Gibson quickly averted his own.

Mulder’s mouth formed a slight smirk, and he whispered, “Is that the real reason you are always inviting her over? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Gibson shot him a look which clearly said, ‘Are you fucking serious?’ and Mulder sighed. He hadn’t proven to be a very good friend to Gibson, and he also guessed that the kid was most likely aware of every single awkward conversation he’d ever had with Valerie Hosteen, not to mention whatever confused or uncomfortable thoughts were involved.

Another buckskin was then laid out on the floor a few feet in front of Mulder, where Kee Tso sat down cross-legged, still holding the ceremonial staff. Night had fallen, and a blazing campfire had been lit between them inside the hogan. The medicine man’s helpers came over, sprinkling more sacred corn pollen around Mulder and Kee Tso, before wrapping the medicine man in a blanket to match the one Mulder was wrapped in. On the hogan floor around them, detailed sand paintings had been created.

Kee Tso began to speak to Mulder in Navajo, while his grandson Larry interpreted. Larry spoke loud enough for everyone inside the hogan to hear, and his words were passed along through the crowd outside.

“It is believed that the very first Enemy Way Ceremony was performed for the son of White Shell Woman, Nayénezgání, by the Spider Woman after slaying the alien gods and restoring hozhó to the world. The ceremony rid his body and mind of the evil things he had suffered while defeating the great monsters, and restored balance to his life.

“FBI man, Mulder, you must identify with Nayénezgání through the ceremonial songs, dance, and prayers to the Holy People. Only then can you be cleansed of the depression sickness in your mind, and restore peace and balance to your life. I will now pray to the Holy People, and ask them to be present, to guide you through the ceremony, transform you to renewed health, and defeat your enemies.”

Kee Tso’s prayers to the Holy People were not interpreted into English. The men began to chant as Valerie walked stoically out of the hogan, to join the crowd outside. Gibson followed her to the doorway, wanting to watch what was happening inside and outside the hogan. The men began a rhythmic chant in Navajo while Valerie began to dance, soon joined by other women in traditional dresses.

The medicine man continued to pray, over and over again the men chanted, and over and over again the women performed the same traditional steps. The flames of the campfire flickered, and Mulder gazed at the shadows dancing on the floor and walls of the hogan. In the back of his mind, he could hear Byers telling him he had to believe.

Again and again the men chanted the same words, and suddenly Mulder thought he understood what they were saying, even though he had no idea how as the language was still Navajo.

 _“Happily may their roads back home be on the trail of pollen._  
_Happily may they all get back._  
_In beauty I walk._  
_With beauty behind me, I walk._  
_With beauty before me, I walk._  
_With beauty above me, I walk._  
_With beauty below me, I walk._  
_With beauty all around me, I walk._  
_It is finished in beauty,_  
_It is finished in beauty,_  
_It is finished in beauty,_  
_It is finished in beauty.”_

Over and over again the words pounded in Mulder’s head. His thoughts turned to Scully. He could see her clearly in his mind’s eye, smiling at him. A big smile, showing off her teeth and her dimple. A smile he rarely got to see much over the years, not until the last year of their partnership. He now wished he’d seen that smile, heard that giggle, more. He now wished he hadn’t closed himself off to her, kept her at arm’s length for so long. He remembered the night that changed everything, the night she’d taken him by the hand and led him to her bedroom. He remembered every kiss, every caress, every whisper. And just as his world was finally getting better, he was cruelly taken away from her. He wasn’t there when she found out she was pregnant, nor was he there to support her or protect her, until close to the very end, and even then he had made things difficult for her at first. He wasn’t there when she gave birth to their son, and now he’d left her to care for him all alone. What kind of a partner was he? How could he possibly help her? What kind of a father was he? What kind of a legacy did he leave behind for his son? One filled with threats and dangerous peril.

William. Had they bonded in so brief a time? If Mulder ever saw his son again, would he know his father? He could still feel how it felt to hold him, to touch his tiny feet and fingers, to feel his small hand firmly grip onto his finger. And he had Scully’s eyes. William’s eyes haunted him every day.

*****

His vision suddenly blurred, and he fell into a trance. Gibson turned from the dancing and looked at him, his eyes widening. He could no longer hear Mulder’s thoughts, as if his friend was sleeping, except his eyes were still open, staring into the fire, the sound of the men chanting and the women dancing continuing to fill the night air.

“Mulder.”

He blinked, he was still in the hogan but there was a mist over everything. Everyone seemed to have gone. He couldn’t hear the medicine man’s prayers, the chanting or dancing. The voice he had heard was very familiar, and female. “Scully?” he whispered.

Appearing in front of him, stepping out of the mist, the source of the voice became visible. She wore a long gown of white and gold. Light glimmered around her long, wavy auburn hair. His eyes widened. “Melissa?”

“I’m here to help you,” she said. “Dana is here, waiting for you.”

“She’s not here,” he answered, his eyes filling with tears.

Melissa smiled sadly, and nodded. “She is. Your anger and your guilt and your fear, they’re blocking you from seeing her. They are preventing you from thinking clearly, from moving forward. I’m here to tell you that you have to let go.”

Mulder’s brows furrowed, and he shook his head.

“You are not responsible for what is happening to Dana and to William,” she told him. “Just as you are not responsible for your father’s death, your sister’s, your mother’s, those who have helped you along the way, and neither are you responsible for my death. You have to let go. Dana needs you to let go. It’s the only way you can help her. She needs your help.”

He shook his head again, tears brimming over. “I abandoned her.”

She sighed, looking at him sympathetically. “No, you didn’t. What you’ve done is what you ought to have done. She would’ve certainly died if you hadn’t left. But I won’t speak of what might’ve happened to William. You left my sister and your child to keep them safe, at the expense of your own happiness. It was a very brave and unselfish thing, but also a necessary thing. The time is coming, maybe sooner than you think, for you to go home. But first there is something that needs to be done. A choice needs to be made, a choice that will affect the entire human race. Dana must make this choice. But she won’t be able to, unless you can help her to make it. The future hangs in the balance, and it hangs upon the choices the two of you will make. That is your true quest, your true purpose.”

“But how? How can I help her? I can’t speak to her. I can’t see her.”

“Right now, you cannot see Dana in the physical world,” replied Melissa confidently. “But you can see her, and speak to her, here, in this place. Anytime you want to. You are always connected here, in this place, no matter how far from each other you are in the physical world. Let go of the negativity surrounding you, let go of the guilt and the anger, the doubt and the fear, and you will. You have to believe that you will. Now close your eyes. She’s waiting for you.”

Taking a few deep breaths, he closed his eyes, and a sensation of lightness came over him, as if a heavy weight that had been holding him down suddenly lifted.

“Hello, Mulder.”

His eyes flew open, and Melissa was gone. But he was immediately transfixed by who stood in front of him in her place. Scully smiled, her blue eyes radiant, her glistening red hair spilling across her shoulders, wearing that yellow sundress from his dreams, and Mulder thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Was this real? Was this really happening?

He was speechless, watching her step over to him. Scully reached out a hand to him, and pulling an arm free from the blanket he was wrapped in, Mulder brought his hand up to hers. The moment they touched, a bright light filled the hogan, as if a lamp had been turned on somewhere. A feeling surged through Mulder like he’d never experienced before.

Scully smiled again, her eyes wet and shiny, her fingers playing with his. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Mulder heaved a shuddering breath, grabbing her with both hands, and pulled her down to him. Her arms wrapped around his bare shoulders as she straddled his lap, the Navajo blanket falling around their hips, and he held her in his arms. The strangest feeling came over him, a powerful feeling, that a cord had tied them tightly together, reaching out from somewhere inside him and connecting with her.

“Scully, I…”

But she brought her fingers to his mouth. “Shh. Not yet. There will be time to talk.”

Her eyes, her smile, suddenly turned suggestive, and a completely different sensation welled up like a blazing fire inside Mulder. And then Scully leaned in closer, brushing her lips with his. He kissed her tenderly, and felt as though he could burst. She deepened the kiss, hugging him closer to her, and Mulder felt that inexplicable cord connecting them tighten as her tongue parted his lips, and moved to stroke his. She was so soft, and tasted so sweet, the sensation filling his entire body and spirit.

Her hands moved through his hair, across the bare skin of his shoulders, down his back, and back up to his neck. Mulder pulled out of their kiss, and his lips went to her neck, finding all the sensitive spots he could remember. Soon soft moans were coming from Scully’s throat, and his hands moved the hem of her sundress up her legs, caressing the soft skin of her thighs.

“Scully, I need…”

“I know, Mulder. Me too.”

She reached for the hem of her sundress and lifted it over her head, tossing is aside, before once again wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Bare skin caressed bare skin, and instantly Mulder felt hot and hard and desperate for her. After slightly raising her hips off his lap, she lowered herself and they were suddenly connected. He felt as though his head was spinning from the feeling of her wet heat enveloping his hardness. She inflamed and soothed him all at once. Mulder and Scully moved together, panting and moaning and whispering words of sentiment and devotion, until their bodies and minds were simultaneously overcome with ecstasy, a sensation so powerful it was unlike anything Mulder had ever experienced. He felt it within his soul. He felt his soul connect with hers.

Breathing heavily, Mulder caressed her face, gazing into her eyes. And then he slowly watched her satisfied expression turn sad.

“We need to talk about William,” Scully said quietly.

“What’s happened?” he asked.

“He isn’t safe,” she whispered. “I can’t keep him safe.”

Mulder sighed. “But who can? If I can’t, and you can’t…”

Scully lowered her head, her chin quivering, and began to cry. He brought his hand to her chin, lifting her face to look at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. Their eyes met, communicating silently, and a painful understanding passed between them.

“Do what you need to do, Scully.”

“I love you, Mulder. Please forgive me.”

Their lips met again, kissing tenderly, and he rested his forehead against hers. “I love you, Scully.”

*****

Mulder felt his body jerk, and he blinked furiously. Sights, smells, and sounds invaded his senses. The campfire was crackling in front of him, Kee Tso was still praying in Navajo, holding the ceremonial staff. He could hear the men chanting the Enemy Way song, the women dancing, their feet making purposeful stomps on the ground outside the hogan. Gibson stood in the doorway, looking at him in puzzlement.

He looked around, wondering just how much time had passed. It had seemed liked hours. He’d dreamt of Scully, but the details weren’t clear. It was fading, like sand falling through his fingers. All that remained was a feeling of vitality and peace of mind like he’d never known before. Mulder no longer felt alone, he could feel her inside him, giving him strength. He was going to get through this. He was going to do whatever it took to get back home to Scully and to William. He was going to find the truth. It was the only thing that would save them.


	112. "For the truest truths are what hold us together, or keep us painfully, desperately apart."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully tries to adjust to life following the terrible events surrounding her infiltrated reunion with Mulder.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.
> 
> Sidenote #1: Thank you all for waiting patiently for this chapter. I know it was a much longer wait than usual, but I found it very difficult to leave Mulder behind and get back into Scully's head space. I just needed a break, I think. So as a gift, I'm offering up this piece of fan fiction I discovered recently. I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard. I was literally crying tears, my sides were splitting, and I almost pissed my pants. It is pure comedic genius: "Womb For Revenge" by neoxphile - https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8286959/1/Womb-For-Revenge
> 
> Sidenote #2: HAVE YOU WATCHED "AQUARIUS?" OMFG THAT SHOW GIVES ME LIFE RIGHT NOW.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sia - "I Go To Sleep" (The Kinks)
> 
> When I look up from my pillow  
> I dream you are there with me  
> Though you are far away  
> I know you'll always be near to me
> 
> I go to sleep  
> And imagine that you're there with me  
> I go to sleep  
> And imagine that you're there with me
> 
> I look around me  
> And feel you are ever so close to me  
> Each tear that flows from my eye  
> Brings back memories of you to me
> 
> I go to sleep  
> And imagine that you're there with me  
> I go to sleep  
> And imagine that you're there with me
> 
> I was wrong, I will cry  
> I will love you till the day I die  
> You were all, you alone and no one else  
> You were meant for me
> 
> When morning comes again  
> I have the loneliness you left me  
> Each day drags by  
> Until finally my time descends on me
> 
> I go to sleep  
> And imagine that you're there with me  
> I go to sleep  
> And imagine that you're there with me

“Mulder?” Silence. She called out again in the quarry. “Mulder?”

A tall figure emerged from the mist ahead of her, his face hidden in shadow at first, but before her hopes could be fully raised, his identity was revealed as he approached. Recognizing him, Scully ran off in the opposite direction. She ran as far as she could go until she found herself in an open area surrounded by the high, steep sides of the quarry. There was heavy plant machinery standing idle around her. Scully stopped and drew her weapon as the man appeared from behind one of the machines, walking towards her.

“Stop there!” Scully shouted. “Stop right there! Why do you want to kill us?!” She felt like she was at her wits’ end. Mulder had been gone over three months, and there were still no answers to why this was happening to them. She had no real idea why they were threatened, why Mulder’s life was in danger.

The man continued walking towards her. “Mulder must die. Mulder or your son.” Taking no notice of Scully he continued towards her menacingly.

“What are you talking about?” she demanded. “What does this have to do with my son? What's wrong with my son?! Answer me!”

He suddenly stopped in front of her, his expression becoming pained. His body went rigid and he looked at the rocks around him. He started shaking and dropped to his knees. Scully still held her gun on him, unsure of what was happening. He dropped onto his chest. Patches of black started appearing on his forehead. He tried to get up, but couldn’t resist some apparent invisible force tied to the rock. He struggled to his feet, his exposed skin now completely blackened by what looked like a chemical reaction. Suddenly without warning, his body was pulled towards the quarry wall at great speed, flying past Scully. She fell to ground as he hit the wall behind her with enormous velocity, his body exploding into dust on impact.

Scully, lying on the ground, looked over at the rock wall. Nothing remained of the man. If that’s what he was. She scrambled to her feet and ran off back the way she came, back towards her car. She looked to her right and left, all around, but there was no sign of the man she most wanted to see, the man she knew had to be there.

“Mulder!” she called out. “Mulder!”

She wanted to tell him it was safe to show himself, now that the threat had momentarily passed. There didn’t appear to be anymore dangers in the quarry. “Mulder! Please! I know you’re in here!”

Agents Doggett and Reyes then came running through the quarry towards her. “Dana, come on, let’s go.”

Scully shook her head at Doggett’s words. She wasn’t going to leave without seeing Mulder. “No, he’s here! He’s here! I have to find him!”

He looked at her sadly, remembering how Mulder had run from him and Monica. He could only think of one reason that made any sense. “Dana, I don’t think he wants to be found.”

She stared at him, at his sympathetic expression, her stomach knotting. “What are you talking about? He wouldn’t hide from me. He wouldn’t!” Scully turned from Doggett and started walking away, calling out for her partner. “Mulder! Mulder!”

“Don’t do this to yourself,” said Doggett, reaching out to grab hold of her, pulling her back. “I’m sure he has good reasons. This never should’ve happened. It’s my fault, and I’m sorry, Dana. But we need to get outta here.” He never should’ve come to her with this to begin with. He should’ve known that it had been a setup all along, just a way to smoke Mulder out.

“No, I have to see him!” Scully said, her voice becoming choked as her throat constricted with emotion, and she struggled against her fellow agent’s restraint. They were so close to each other. He was there somewhere. She had to see him. “Mulder, please!” she cried out desperately, wanting him to hear just how much she needed him, wanting him to come to her.

“Mulder?” Scully cried pitifully, tears brimming over, feeling herself start to give up all hope.

Monica reached out a calming hand, gently grasping her shoulder. “Agent Scully, let’s go. It’s not safe here. We should get you home to your son.”

She immediately thought of William, and the threat against him. That man said her son had to die, unless Mulder did. What if NSA agents or these so-called Super Soldiers showed up at her apartment? Her son was with her mother, unprotected. Scully nodded, and stopped struggling. Doggett held her by the arm and they started walking back towards her sedan. He helped her into the passenger seat, before going around the driver’s side, Monica getting into the back. Once he had dropped his partner off at the vehicle they’d driven to the quarry, Doggett drove a distraught Scully back home to Georgetown.

*****

On Saturday morning, April 21st, Scully sat at a table inside Federal Grounds Internet Café, staring at the computer monitor in front of her. She’d considered using a different café, but then decided that she’d most likely be watched no matter where she went. Nowhere was she safe from the prying eyes of their enemies, not even in her own home. The Shadow Man’s words still ran in circles in her mind.

_“I know you spend too much time alone. And I know… that on one lonely night you invited Mulder to your bed.”_

She had never felt so violated. Every moment she and Mulder had ever shared had most likely been watched and listened to. Every conversation, every argument, every whisper, every declaration, and every decision; their laughter, their tears, and their nights filled with passion, had all been witnessed. Even now, she felt her face burning with mortification, anger flooding her stomach like molten lava. Hot tears filled her eyes as she grabbed the computer mouse and logged into her email account. Scully’s eyes widened, and she blinked almost in disbelief, her tears brimming over, gasping as her heart pounded in her chest. Mulder had responded.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: trust_no1@mail.com  
To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
Date: Apr 19, 2001

Give the kid lots of hugs and kisses for me. Thank you for taking care of him every day, loving him every day. Despite everything we're up against, he's a lucky little boy to have a mother like you.

You will always be my constant, my touchstone. And I love you and William more than my own life. Never forget that, no matter what.

*******************************************

Scully quickly hit the Print button, and pushing William’s stroller over to the printer by the wall, retrieved the email before returning to the computer. She glanced down at her son, sleeping peacefully, and a keen sense of guilt grew in the pit of her stomach. What kind of a mother was she? She couldn’t give her son his father. She had no idea how to protect him. She had no answers. She felt lost and afraid, but also angry at the injustice of it all.

There were times Scully wanted to scream, and break every dish and glassware she owned. There were times she hated Mulder for leaving her all alone, knowing full well it was her who pushed him to leave, knowing that there was nothing else that could’ve been done, knowing that none of it was his fault. She hated the months of silence, not knowing if he was in any immediate danger, not knowing if he was hurt and crying out for her like in all the nightmares she’d had during his abduction. Scully was thankful there were no nightmares this time. She often went to bed hoping to dream of Mulder, but every morning she woke from a dreamless sleep, feeling empty and alone.

Now, reading this email, she felt hope kindle within her. Mulder was alive and they’d found some way their enemies could be destroyed, like that Super Soldier had been. He knew things about her, cold, hard facts that any stranger could decipher with prying eyes. But there was one thing he obviously did not know. His statement, his assumption, that she’d invited Mulder to her bed out of sheer loneliness was a heartless contortion of the truth. No doubt it was meant to humiliate her, to get her to cave to his demands to see her partner.

“ _They’re watching,”_ the NSA agent had said. She knew this was true now, that her and Mulder been under surveillance for a long time, perhaps from the moment they started working together. Yes, she spent too much time alone, both now and over the past eight years. She’d often felt lonely during those years, lying awake in bed night after night thinking about Mulder, who was also lying awake on his couch in his apartment in Alexandria, wanting them to be closer.

But the NSA and the supposed Super Soldiers could never know what was in their hearts. They could never know about the years she and Mulder spent denying and dancing around their feelings, the longing they felt for one another, the painful inability to act on it. And they could never truly know just how powerful it was, after six years of platonic intimacy, to finally do so. Scully hadn’t taken Mulder by the hand and led him to her bedroom because she was lonely. She was choosing not to be lonely anymore. She was choosing to finally be with the man she loved.

Reaching for the mouse, her eyes welling up with tears, she clicked the Reply button on Mulder’s email.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
To: trust_no1@mail.com  
Date: Apr 21, 2001

You have no idea how it feels to hear from you. I nearly wept with relief. I pray every day that there will soon be an end to all this. Please do all you can to stay safe until you return home to us. We need you, more than ever. Mulder, I’m starting to doubt whether I can protect William without you. He could be taken at any time, harmed at any time. I don’t think that there is anything I could do to prevent that from happening. Why do they want our son dead? He’s just a baby, an innocent. If anything were to happen to William, I wouldn’t survive it. What if all the sacrifices we’re making right now come to nothing? I don’t know what to do anymore. This isn’t something we should be facing alone. Nothing will ever be right again until we are together.

I miss you so much, it’s a constant ache. I pray every day that you will soon be here with me.

*******************************************

William started fussing in his stroller, and Scully leaned down to lift him out, sitting back up with him in her arms. As she made to log out of her email account, a message appeared in her inbox. She stared at it, dread sinking in her stomach like a lead weight.

*******************************************  
E-Mail from: MAILER-DAEMON@n33.bullet.mail.sp2.hotmail.com  
To: Queequeg0925@hotmail.com  
Date: Apr 21, 2001 

This is an automatically generated Delivery Status Notification.  
  
Delivery to the following address failed.

<trust_no1@mail.com>

*******************************************

“No,” Scully gasped, her eyes widening at the screen in front of her. How could Mulder do this? What did it even mean? Stifling a sob, she bent her head, unable to stop the tears from flowing. William started to cry, and she sensed people were now staring in their direction. She wanted to leave, to get away from the embarrassment and their prying eyes, but she couldn’t move from the computer. Hopelessness and despair descended on her like a tidal wave. With a shaking hand she grabbed her cell phone from where it lay on the table next to the computer monitor, and dialed the first person she could think of.

*****

Fifteen minutes later, at just past 11:00 am, John Doggett exited the taxi he’d hailed in front of FBI headquarters and came through the door of Federal Grounds Internet Café, and after quickly laying eyes on his former partner sitting hunched over a table with her baby in her arms, he sighed. Scully looked up and saw his sad expression, the pity in the friendly blue eyes staring back at her, before shaking her head and chewing on her bottom lip to fight off the emotion threatening to overwhelm her once again.

Doggett walked over to her, and seeing her face begin to crumple, he reached and took the baby from her arms. “Hey there, little man,” he said, smiling. The baby squirmed and cooed as Doggett gently bounced him a couple times. After setting William in his stroller, he crouched down beside Scully.

“What’s happened, Dana?” he asked quietly. “Is it Mulder?”

After taking a deep breath, Scully responded. “He deleted his email account.”

“I’m not surprised,” Doggett sighed.

“What do you mean?” she demanded. “He wouldn’t cut off contact with me. He knows how important it is.”

He twitched his mouth slowly to the side, remembering recent events, wanting to tell her his honest opinion, but hesitating. “Dana, they know you’re emailing him. I’m guessing he’s figured that out, too. I’m sure he’s only protecting you. Just like at the quarry.”

Immediately, Doggett wished he hadn’t mentioned it. Scully’s hand covered her eyes, trying to hide the tears now threatening to make an appearance. Grasping her arm, he stood up, taking her with him, and together they walked out of the café. After helping her into the passenger side of her car, he got William into his car seat, placed the folded stroller in the trunk, and then got into the driver’s seat. Turning the ignition, he pulled the car away from the curb and started heading towards Georgetown.

Holding the wheel with his left hand, Doggett pulled his cell phone out from his pocket and pressed Speed Dial 2. After the second ring, she answered.

“Hi, Monica. Can you meet me over at Agent Scully’s?”

“What’s going on?” she asked.

He glanced over at Scully in the passenger seat, staring out the window. “I just think it would be good to spend the day there.”

She continued to keep her face turned towards the window. She didn’t like the idea of Doggett wanting to stay with her, to keep an eye on her, like he had that awful night they’d returned from the quarry and he’d slept on the couch. Part of her wanted, needed, to be alone, wanted him to leave her alone. Another part of her was desperate for some companionship that wasn't an infant or her mother, and was thankful for his company.

“I thought you wanted to work on our case report today, John?” asked Monica.

“We can do that at Agent Scully’s place,” he replied.

She sighed into the receiver, wondering what had happened. “All right. I’ll collect our paperwork from the office and meet you there.”

Doggett pressed the End button on his phone and dropped it into the console in front of the gear shift. Scully looked over at him, for the first time really seeing him, and noticed he wasn’t wearing a suit, but a pair of blue jeans and a red t-shirt.

“I’m sorry, John.” Scully sighed, and stared down at her hands in her lap.

“For what?”

She shook her head, before looking back over at him. “For wasting your weekend. You shouldn’t have to spend your time off dealing with… this.”

He glanced over at her, furrowing his brows. “What are you talkin’ about? We’re friends. I’d do anything for ya, you know that.”

Scully gave him a half smile, but didn’t reply, and resumed looking out the window. After a minute of driving across downtown DC, she sighed and broke the silence. “You were right,” she said quietly, her voice just above a whisper. “I should’ve listened to you. I should’ve… I should’ve trusted you.”

Doggett shook his head. “No, it was my fault. By the time I told you of my concerns, it was too late to call the thing off. I should’ve considered all the worst case scenarios before talking to you about the Shadow Man.” He sighed. “I should’ve listened to Monica.”

“No, John,” she said with conviction, still with her face turned away from him. “It was my fault. I was wrong to send for him based on so little information. I was just… desperate to see him. And they… they knew that.”

He sighed. On the night they’d returned to her apartment after the events in the quarry, Doggett and Monica searched Scully’s apartment for cameras or microphones; they found several. Hidden microphones were found in the antique clock that sat high up on the armoire in the living room, the digital clock/radio on her bedside table, the wall clock in the nursery, and behind the control panel on the microwave in the kitchen. He’d promptly crushed each one under the heel of his shoe. Making a left turn onto 31st Street NW in Georgetown, Doggett decided to regularly check her apartment for bugs each week.

At 2:30 in the afternoon, Scully awoke from her nap to the sounds William was making in the wicker bassinet at her bedside. She sat up and reached over for him, taking him in her arms. She thought he was looking more and more like Mulder every day, except for the eyes and fair skin. The big, blue eyes staring back at her were evidence she’d contributed at least something to the boy’s physical makeup.

Forty-five minutes later, after breastfeeding William and changing him in the nursery, Scully carried him into the living room. There on the couch, sitting hunched over in front of the coffee table topped with paperwork and X-Files, sat John and Monica. They spoke in serious, hushed tones, clearly having an impassioned discussion. Tears pricked Scully’s eyes and a lump grew in her throat. How many times over the years had she and Mulder sat on a couch in one of their respective apartments, intensely debating how to write up a case report? She chewed her bottom lip, trying hard to push her emotions back. Why must everything remind her of him?

*****

Doggett and Monica stayed for dinner, Scully having ordered a pizza, and in the early evening they finally departed. She was glad to have them with her for the afternoon, not particularly wanting to be alone in her apartment after what had happened with the Shadow Man. Sometimes she wondered why she continued to stay in this apartment, after all the horrible things that had happened there. The number of times people had broken in, either to listen to her answering machine, plant listening devices, or for far more malevolent reasons. Even after the murder of her sister or being attacked by Donnie Pfaster, she still couldn’t bring herself to move out and find another place. She certainly couldn’t bring herself to do so now. This was home, and this was the home Mulder knew. She kept hoping that he would show up without warning, that there’d be a knock on her door and it would be him. What if he were to finally come home and find her gone? Moved out? She had to stay.

After feeding William and laying him down to sleep, Scully took a hot bath and then got ready for bed. She desperately tried not to think about government agencies watching her. As she lay down in her darkened bedroom, her mind drifted to a happier time, a happier place. Her eyes glazed over as memories came forward in her mind. Soon Scully latched onto a memory of Mulder from almost a year ago, before their lives were changed forever…

It was the end of May, and they’d just returned from Bellefleur, Oregon. The evening they spent watching television in her living room was quiet, subdued, neither of them speaking very much. Whenever she moved around the apartment, she felt Mulder’s eyes following her. If she’d ended up out of his sight for several minutes, he’d call out for her. She’d roll her eyes and simply say “I’m in here,” whether that was the bedroom, bathroom, or the kitchen. But he wouldn’t leave the living room and go to her, seemingly content just to know she’d answered him.

This had been a slight annoyance then, she’d somewhat bristled internally at Mulder apparently continuing to worry about her, even though she’d repeatedly told him during their flight home that she felt better and wasn’t feeling sick at all. But she now knew that his behavior had nothing to do with her feeling ill, and that Mulder had sat on her couch in fear of her abduction, in fear of losing her.

That night when they went to bed, lying on their sides facing each other, Mulder held her for a long time, caressing her back, running his fingers through her hair, holding her face and gazing into her eyes, love and reassurance passing between them. “I love you, Scully,” he whispered, his arms closing around her tighter.

“Scully, I…,” he whispered again, but she didn’t let him finish what he was going to say. She captured his mouth with her own, seeking his tongue with hers. The bare skin underneath her fingertips flooded her senses with pleasure. But Mulder was hesitant, most likely still concerned over her health. She urged him on with her touch. They had already undressed for bed, his jeans and black t-shirt lying in a rumpled heap on the floor. She slid her hand down the front of his boxers, and his sharp gasp when she wrapped her hand around his shaft sent chills running up her spine.

Mulder didn’t need any more urging after that. His kiss became passionate, turning hungry with lustful need, and her arousal doubled, the wet heat at her core building. He quickly removed her tank top and his hands went to her breasts, gently squeezing and fondling, giving extra attention to her hardening nipples, as his mouth went to her neck, kissing, biting, licking.

As she pushed his boxer briefs off his hips and down his legs, Mulder lifted his head from her neck and they gazed at each other, unwavering and intense. She took his engorged cock in her hand and began to stroke his thick length, pre-cum soon dampening her hand.

“Christ, Scully,” hissed Mulder, thrusting his hips.

She let go of his erection and rolled onto her back, taking him by the arm and pulling him with her. Mulder’s hands immediately went to her panties, soaked with her need, quickly removing them and settling his hips between her legs. His hand slid down to her center, his fingers moving along her wet, swollen folds, gathering her juices over her hardened bundle of nerves. She jerked, her hips arching at his touch. He then rubbed her clit carefully, applying steady pressure exactly the way he knew she needed.

“Oh, God,” she gasped, her eyes squeezing shut. “Oh, God, yes… I’m gonna come…”

Almost immediately she was moaning, panting hard and bucking her hips at his hand. She was breathing heavily and staring up at his eyes, hooded with desire, and watched him lick his fingers clean, her groin tightening in response. He then moved forward, guiding his cock to her entrance, and a moment later he was slowly filling her completely. His cock went deeper and deeper, until she moaned and whimpered, her arms going around his back as her legs locked around his hips.

Resting most of his weight on his forearm, Mulder’s other hand went to her face, caressing with his fingers, tracing her jawline and gazing into her eyes as he began to thrust, slow and sensual. Lips and tongues occasionally met in languid kisses and soft strokes, before they pulled away and gazed at one another silently, their heavy breathing filling the room. Soon the heat of their impending release began to build up, and Mulder started thrusting faster, harder. The coiling tension at her center burst, and she cried out his name. Instantly, she felt him go rigid above her, watched his face contort as explicit words of pleasure tumbled from his lips, and they were riding their shared orgasm, their hips rocking against each other, their moans filling the bedroom.

Breathing hard, Mulder moved off of her, and collapsed on the mattress to her left, but he immediately reached for her and pulled her against him. Once again, he held her tightly to him, his arms encircling her protectively, before bringing a hand up to her face, brushing her hair away from her forehead, tucking loose strands behind her ear. He caressed her until she felt herself drifting to sleep. When she awoke the next morning, they were in the same position. Mulder’s arm and leg were draped over her, locking her tightly against him, as if afraid to let go.

…As Scully lay on her bed, in her darkened room, that memory from almost a year ago seemed more like a dream. That had been the last time they’d made love before his abduction, before their world turned upside down. The memory was vivid and she could remember every detail, but it was as if she was watching it from the outside, and not experiencing it herself. The harder she tried to remember his touch, the feel of his hands, his arms, his kiss, the more it seemed to slip through her fingers. Tears filled her eyes as she realized she was forgetting. She was forgetting his touch, his scent, his presence in her life. She was forgetting how it felt to be loved by him.

“Please come home,” Scully whispered in the dark, to no one. “I need you.”

Her tears began to fall, and she wished Mulder was there to wipe them away. Eventually her grief began pulling her towards sleep, and as her eyes closed, she thought she could almost feel his hand on her face, his thumb wiping her tears away, his palm caressing her cheek, almost feel his lips brushing against hers. As she drifted to sleep, she sent up a silent prayer that Mulder would come home soon, and hoped that tonight would be the night she could finally dream of him and momentarily experience his presence, his scent, his touch.


	113. “I never meant for this; all that's been lost. I never meant to put you at risk – to risk losing you, too.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully spends the Fourth of July with her family. Then after William becomes a bargaining chip for a psychotic UFO cult, she and Monica Reyes race to save him with help from the Lone Gunmen. Scully learns some new information.
> 
> Disclaimer: Dialog from the episode "Providence" doesn't belong to me, thank goodness, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plumb – “Say Your Name”
> 
> When does a scar become a tattoo  
> When does the sky fade back to blue  
> When does this broken heart that I'm holding  
> Beat on its own
> 
> When do I stop feeling this burn  
> When do I live, when do I learn  
> When will I realize that look in your eyes  
> Won't come back
> 
> I'm right here  
> Standing in the pouring rain  
> Tick tock  
> Hours all feel the same  
> I say your name  
> I say your name  
> Well I'm right here  
> Running just as fast as I can  
> And I swear  
> I'm never gonna do this again  
> I say your name  
> I say your name
> 
> I try to be strong but I keep dreaming of you  
> Oh I really wish this was easy to do  
> But I've never felt this tied up and helpless  
> And all that I know is you're gone  
> How do I let go
> 
> I'm right here  
> Standing in the pouring rain  
> Tick tock  
> Hours all feel the same  
> I say your name  
> I say your name  
> Well I'm right here  
> Running just as fast as I can  
> And I swear  
> I'm never gonna do this again  
> I say your name  
> I say your name
> 
> Well I know  
> That someday this pain, it will fade  
> But right now  
> I can't explain how I feel, I wanna scream
> 
> I'm right here  
> Standing in the pouring rain  
> Tick tock  
> Hours all feel the same  
> I say your name  
> I say your name  
> Well I'm right here  
> Running just as fast as I can  
> And I swear  
> I'm never gonna do this again  
> I say your name  
> I say your name

On Wednesday afternoon, July 4th, Scully carried six month old William out to her car, and took the 20 minute drive to her mother’s house in Alexandria. The whole family was gathered together in Maggie’s backyard, the adults sitting on picnic tables and the kids running through sprinklers, enjoying the holiday picnic. Bill and Tara had flown in from San Diego, along with three year old Matthew and 20 month old twins, Eleanor and Delphine. Tara’s parents, Allan and Elizabeth Watson, had come up from Pensacola, Florida for the visit. Charlie, Jennifer, and their three kids had driven down from Baltimore, Maryland. Jennifer’s parents, the Delaneys, were also there for the picnic. The only people that seemed to be missing were Jennifer’s brother Jamie and his family, who were on vacation with his wife’s parents.

As Scully looked around at her happily chatting family, everyone passing a giggling William around and fawning all over him, she knew someone else was missing too. There was someone else who should have been there with them. His absence was keenly felt by her, and as absolutely no one present spoke a word of him, she knew his absence was palpable for the others as well. Scully avoided being alone with Bill Jr at all costs, sitting as far away from him as she could, and leaving rooms as soon as he’d entered them. She knew she couldn’t avoid him forever and that sooner or later he’d speak his mind, but she hoped to put off the inevitable for as long as possible.

At 8:00 pm, Scully brought William inside the house, Tara and Jennifer tagging along, and after she grabbed the diaper bag from the kitchen, they walked upstairs to her old bedroom. Scully dropped the bag on the carpeted floor, before laying the baby down to change him. Tara and Jennifer sat on the edge of the bed while Scully took the items out of the bag that she needed. Sliding the diaper changing pad underneath her son while she sat on her knees, the three sisters-in-law began to talk. Scully mostly listened to Tara and Jennifer’s tales about their kids, husbands, work, neighbors, and all the little nuances that made up their daily lives.

Scully was sitting cross-legged on the floor with William in her lap, when the conversation became directed at her.

“William is such a beautiful baby, Dana,” said Tara sweetly, before tucking a strand of her short blond hair behind an ear.

She smiled and nodded, glancing down at her son who was chewing contentedly on a green Martian finger puppet.

Jennifer swallowed, hesitating slightly. “He looks so much like Mulder.”

She sighed, and looked up to see Tara glancing nervously between her sisters-in-law. She gave her a small, reassuring smile. “He really does,” said Scully. William looked like Mulder more and more every day. His mouth, jawline, ears, chin, and nose all resembled those belonging to his father.

“When’s the last time you heard from him, Dana?” Tara asked quietly.

“In April,” she replied.

Jennifer and Tara exchanged concerned glances, and then looked back at Scully, but didn’t know what to say. Bill Jr’s voice was then heard, calling up the stairs for his wife. Tara excused herself and left the bedroom. Once her footsteps were heard descending the staircase, Jennifer turned an anxious look on Scully. “Is William still doing that… thing… with his mobile?” she asked.

Scully averted her eyes, almost wishing her mother hadn’t told Charlie and Jennifer. “Yes.”

Jennifer heaved a sigh, and pursed her lips. “Well… think of the bright side. When he’s older, he’ll be able to do that Mary Poppins thing. So, you know, silver lining.”

“What?” Scully responded with a breathy laugh of disbelief.

“You know… he’ll snap his fingers and his bedroom will clean itself,” replied Jennifer. “Just think of how useful that’ll be! God, I wished my kids had some powers.”

Scully laughed in spite of herself, throwing a hand over her eyes and shaking her head. She then sighed. “That sounds like something Mulder would say.”

Jennifer smiled, but then her face fell and she stared at her sister-in-law with concern. “Dana… how much danger are you in… really?”

Her eyes filled with tears and she lowered her head, biting her bottom lip in a fruitless attempt to stem the flow of her emotions. Scully hated herself for feeling weak, the frequent tears serving as a reminder that she’d lost herself somewhere along the way. She wanted to be her old self again, strong and solid like a rock, not prone to tears, capable of burying her feelings deep inside. Now everything was close to the surface, and almost anything caused her defenses to crumble.

“Dana…” Jennifer sighed, pausing. “Maybe you and William should go somewhere. Get out of DC. Mulder’s hiding. Why shouldn’t you and the baby?”

“I can’t leave now,” Scully replied, looking up and wiping the tears from her face. “I would have no way of getting any information to him. I’ve tried. I’ve sent messages through the only means I can now, and there is never a response. What if he were to come home? I have to stay.”

Jennifer nodded her understanding. “There might come a time when you have to make a choice, though. It might be necessary to put your life, and William’s life, first, regardless of whether or not Mulder can ever come back.”

Scully averted her eyes, chewing her bottom lip, and was saved from responding by the family’s calls from downstairs. It was time to head to Oronoco Bay Park to watch the fireworks. After piling into as few vehicles as possible, the Scully clan and their extended family took the 10 minute drive to the park, joining the large crowd of Alexandria residents who were also present for the 4th of July festivities.

Handing William over to her mother, Scully made to sit in one of the lawn chairs the family had brought when something caught her eye. A man was walking through the gathering crowd, tall, with brown hair and broad shoulders, dressed in blue jeans and a gray t-shirt. His casual stride was almost familiar. Her stomach knotted, palms sweated, and her breathing quickened. “Mulder…” she whispered, her heart pounding in her chest. But then the man turned and greeted a pretty blonde, kissing her on the cheek as she smiled, and taking her hand in his, they walked away happily and disappeared into the crowd. It wasn’t him, the man she’d desperately wanted to see. It never was.

Eventually William found his way to Bill Jr’s arms, and Scully watched her son smile and giggle as her older brother would hoist him high up in the air and bring him quickly back down. Bill Jr caught Scully’s eye, and he gave her a slight grin. She gave him a small smile in return. Soon the baby became cranky, and Bill Jr brought him over to his sister. Upon sight of Scully, William reached towards her with both hands and she took him in her arms. Nestled against her chest, he soon fell asleep.

Once the fireworks came to an end, and everyone arrived back at Maggie’s house and said their goodbyes, Scully carried William in his car seat over to her sedan and opened the rear door. She glanced up to see Bill Jr had followed her over to her car. She gave him a half smile before she settled William into the back seat.

“Dana, are you doing all right?” Bill Jr asked. “Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine, Bill,” Scully replied.

He pursed his lips, pausing. “But… do you need money, or anything? I’m sure you weren’t expecting to be caring for a child by yourself. And I’m willing to bet that _Mulder_ doesn’t send you any financial support.”

She closed her eyes, sighing, shutting the car’s rear door. “Bill…”

“No, you need to hear this, Dana,” he said adamantly. “He ran out on you, leaving you behind to care for his child all by yourself. And where is he? He’s been gone six months. When’s the last time you even heard from him?”

“Bill, I don’t want to talk about this,” answered Scully.

He sighed. “You never want to talk about anything. Tara calls you and calls you, but you never call her back. Mom says you barely tell her anything. You’ve got to talk to _someone,_ Dana.”

Scully crossed her arms in front of her chest defensively, and leaned back against the car door. “For the last time, Mulder didn’t run out on me. His life was threatened, by men in our own government, who are still actively looking to kill him. He didn’t want to leave us, Bill.” Almost against her will, she felt her emotions threaten to become evident. Her eyes welled up, and one tear broke loose, rolling down her cheek as she looked away from her brother. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she said, her voice breaking. “I don’t really know how it was supposed to be, but… not like this.”

Bill Jr reached for his younger sister and pulled her to him in a hug. He wanted to say that Mulder had no doubt foolishly brought those problems on himself, but bit his tongue. “Dana, why don’t you come out to San Diego? We’d love to have you there with us. Might be good for you, and the baby. San Diego’s not a bad place to raise kids, you know.”

She pulled away from her brother, shaking her head. “Why does everyone want me to leave Washington? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I hope you’re not just sitting around, putting your life on hold, in some vain hope that Mulder’s gonna come walking through the door,” said Bill Jr.

She averted her eyes, refolding her arms.

He pursed his lips, furrowing his brows. “Fox Mulder is the most selfish man I’ve ever met. You and your life and your well-being always came second to whatever foolhardy mission he happened to be currently obsessed with. He’s never coming back, Dana.”

Scully threw an icy gaze at him, her expression and voice turning hard. “Goodbye, Bill.” She then walked around to the driver’s side of her vehicle, and got inside the front seat, slamming the door after her. Not long after, she was backing out of her mother’s driveway and heading towards Georgetown.

*****

On Wednesday night, July 11th, Scully walked inside a small off-the-road diner in Calgary, Canada and waited for the contact to arrive, that cult leader, Josepho. She sat down at a table, and hours went by. She stared at the clock on the wall, and watched the time turn from 11:59 to 12:00. It was Thursday; a new day. She could only hope and pray that today was the day she would bring William home. How could this have happened? Her life was slowly becoming a waking nightmare. When would her family cease to be a target?

At 2:42 am, Scully was still waiting quietly alone inside. She sighed. How much longer was she going to have to wait? The only thing keeping her together was knowing that this cult didn’t want to harm her son. She had to believe that he was physically safe, that he wasn’t hurt in any way. She had been waiting a very long time. Suddenly a man sat down across from her and clasped his hands in front of him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting but I had to make sure you were alone,” said Josepho. “I only wish to protect the boy from those who'd harm him. He's a very special boy.”

“I came here to take him back,” Scully said.

He stared at her. “‘Behold, a whirlwind came out of the north and a brightness was about it. And out of the midst came the likeness of four living creatures. And they had the likeness of a man.’ That's the Bible. Did you know it?”

She groaned internally. "Ezekiel.”

“The Bible… describing giants who walk the earth,” Josepho continued. “Who'd believe it? Only the faithful and we who have seen them. These… Super Soldiers. The true Sons of God.”

“I want to see my son,” replied Scully firmly. She had no interest in discussing this man’s twisted theology. She had to get William back.

He eyed her across the table. “You struggle to believe. It's so incredible, but your son will lead this alien race. He was put here to lead.”

Scully only greeted this statement with silence, and a hard stare. William was her son, and no one was about to tell her who or what he was.

Josepho paused, as if making a decision. “I'll bring you to him, to see your son. After you do something for me. After you bring something I need. Confirmation that Mulder's dead.”

This didn’t make sense to her. In the hospital, Agent Comer had told her that Mulder was dead, implying this had happened at the hands of the cult. “You killed Mulder,” she said, tears starting to well up. She didn’t want to believe it. It was entirely unsubstantiated, no proof of it at all. She wanted to be defiant, stubborn, to maintain her confidence that Mulder was alive. But she again cursed her emotional state, wondering just how much of herself she lost every day with every tear that fell.

“No, I believed he was dead,” Josepho replied, remembering a vision he’d had of a Super Soldier in the Arizona desert. “But now I have reason to doubt that. And if he's alive he's the one thing preventing your son's true destiny.”

With these words, Scully felt herself grow stronger, and more confident than she’d felt since this whole ordeal began. “You told me I could see my son. You lied.”

He stared at her. “If you want to see the boy, you'll bring me the head of Fox Mulder.” Josepho eyed her to show that he meant what he said, and then left the table, walking outside and to his car.

Scully waited until he’d left the diner, and then pulled out her cell phone, quickly dialing the number. “Get ready, Monica.”

“Hold on,” she answered, from where she sat inside the Lone Gunmen’s Volkswagen van. She watched as Josepho's truck left the small diner's parking lot. The van door then opened, revealing Frohike, who’d just finished hooking up a tracking device inside Josepho’s vehicle.

“His car is wired.”

Monica spoke into the phone. “Here we go.”

She then got out of the van as Frohike climbed in and sat with Byers in the back. Scully ran out of the diner and jumped into the driver’s seat of the rental car, Monica getting into the car as well. Scully peeled out of the parking lot, taking off in pursuit of the cult leader, the Gunmen following behind her. After several minutes of driving over hills, and a frustrating back and forth between the two parties over losing track of Josepho on the Gunmen’s equipment, Scully ran out of road and skidded to a halt, before jumping out of the car along with Monica, who was still on the phone with the Lone Gunmen. Scully saw the large, white tent in the distance, which could only be the excavation site of the UFO.

Scully ran towards the tent, and with a sudden feeling of déjà vu, remembering when she had called out to Mulder in the Arizona desert, she cried out to her son in the darkness.

“William!”

As she ran, she got a better view of the excavation tent in the distance, and she knew her son had to be there. She started running up the hill towards it.

“William!”

A loud noise suddenly filled the air, like that of a large machine turning on, and panic rose up inside her, and she barely registered Monica running behind her. They couldn’t take him! They couldn’t take her son!

“William!”

A beam of light shot up into the sky, and the two FBI agents reached the top of the hill just in time to witness a space ship emerging from the tent. They stopped and stared at the ship, watching it move off into the distance. Monica continued to watch the ship, but Scully laid her eyes on the tent, burning and collapsing.

She gazed in horror, fear sinking its teeth into her heart. “No…” Scully whispered.

Spurred into motion, she ran as fast as she could towards the ruin that once was the excavation site, Monica following her. The burned remains of the tent flapped in the wind. Little fires of the remaining tent burned throughout the site. The stifling air filled their nostrils. Scully and Monica separated to search for any sign of William, for any sign of life at all.

“Oh, my god,” Scully gasped.

Walking around the gaping hole in the middle of the sight, her eyes were drawn to the death around her. She and Monica were walking amidst the burned bodies of what had been Josepho and his cult followers. The scene was all too familiar to Scully. They were burned, charred, just like those bodies found at Skyland Mountain, at the Ruskin Dam in Pennsylvania, and the El Rico Air Base hangar.

The bodies on the ground were clearly all adults, and there were no signs of children or infants. Scully couldn’t believe what was happening. It was all too horrible, too terrible. All she could think about was her son. It took everything she had within her to keep her moving through the rubble. What if the ship had taken him? Her baby. Her precious baby. Oh, God, what if they took him? Tears threatened, and she felt as if her knees would buckle. _Mulder, I’m so sorry,_ she thought. _I couldn’t stop them. They took him. They took our son._

Scully looked at Monica and turned to head toward the large hole in the center, but Monica laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Dana…” Monica saw the lost look on her face, and knew she didn’t want to believe that her son was gone.

Off in the distance, above the sound of the wind, they suddenly heard a baby's healthy cry. For a moment, Scully and Monica froze, the two agents pausing to discern the direction it was coming from. They stared at each other, as if in search of confirmation of what they’d both just heard. Scully moved toward crater as the cries got louder. This time, Monica didn’t stop her.

She knew those cries belonged to William. “Oh, my…” she gasped, working her way through the smoky area to the center of the crater. Her thoughts were scattered, she felt too many emotions at once to understand them, but she raced through the rubble towards the cries. A moment later, he appeared, a small bundle of blue laying on the scorched earth. Sweet, blessed relief.

“William?”

Scully reached him. He was still snugly wrapped in his blue baby blanket. He wasn’t burned. He wasn’t hurt. He was kicking healthily and crying loudly, obviously unhappy at being on the ground. She hurriedly picked up her son, tears streaming down her face. She kissed his brow and held him close as he continued to cry. Scully was vaguely aware of Monica’s presence, and her reassuring hand on her back. She walked as if blind, Monica leading her out of the crater and away from the burned remains of the tent.

As they walked back towards their vehicle, Monica got on the phone with Skinner, who said he would contact the authorities in Calgary right away. When they reached the car, Scully looked over to see the Gunmen’s van had stopped behind it. Frohike, Langly, and Byers were standing there, stunned. From out of nowhere, anger welled up inside Scully at the sight of them, flooding her insides like a tidal wave.

“Where is he?!” she shouted at the Gunmen, while she still held William tight to her.

The three friends stared at her, mouths falling slightly agape and brows furrowing in confusion, not knowing how to respond.

“Tell me where he is!” Scully demanded again, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. “Mulder! Where is he?!”

Their faces fell, and they only shook their heads sadly. “We… we don’t know,” replied Byers calmly. Langly stared at his shoes, while Frohike looked at Scully in anguish.

“You better find him!” she shouted, and then turned around as Agent Reyes grasped her arm and led her to the passenger side door of the car. “I can’t do this anymore, Monica,” said Scully tearfully, her voice choking with emotion.

“It’ll be okay, Dana,” she replied, hoping that was true.

After taking William’s car seat from the trunk, to Monica’s surprise, Scully let her take the baby from her arms and get him into the back. Monica settled him into his car seat, securing it with the buckle, and gazed down into the beautiful face of her godson, vivid memories of the delivery of his birth coming forward in her mind. Nothing made sense. Those Super Soldiers claimed either William or Mulder had to die, but apparently they weren’t very keen on killing William, or even taking him. They’d walked away from that abandoned building in Democrat Hot Springs, leaving him unharmed and untouched. The UFO burned up the cultists who apparently worshipped the aliens, and these Super Soldiers, but they also left William behind, unharmed. When Monica got into the driver’s side seat, she was still lost in thought.

Soon law enforcement was crawling all over the area, and after taking statements from Scully and Monica, the Lone Gunmen having left the scene before the cavalry could arrive, Monica drove them to the Calgary International Airport. There they boarded the 9:40 am Air Canada flight, and after a brief layover, landed in Washington, DC at 6:10 pm on Thursday, July 12th. After getting into Monica’s car in the airport parking lot, they departed, and she began driving towards Georgetown. Scully didn’t speak very much, and she vaguely remembered the authorities showing up at the UFO excavation site or breastfeeding William at the airports in Calgary and Toronto. Monica glanced over at her in the passenger seat, remembering how Scully had sobbed the entire drive from the UFO site to Calgary International.

“I hope you don’t believe a word that man said to you, Dana. You can't trust him. He was just... crazy. Everything that man said makes no sense in any kind of real way.”

Scully sighed, and looked out the window. She had no idea what to believe anymore.

*****

Just after 7:00 pm, Scully carried William into her apartment, Monica following her inside and carrying her duffel bag as well as the baby’s car seat. After she set them down next to the coat rack, she closed and locked the door behind her. Scully walked silently through the apartment, taking in her empty kitchen and living room. She stared at Mulder’s fish tank, at the plastic UFO bobbing up and down in the water. She crossed the room, and after grabbing a small container of fish food, sprinkled some flakes into the tank. Peeling her eyes away from swimming fish, Scully carried William into the nursery.

Monica walked around the apartment, checking the bathroom, master bedroom, and the hall closet, checking to make sure there was nothing untoward inside the home. She then approached the nursery and stood in the doorway, watching Scully pull some clean baby clothes from the dresser. Monica looked on as she took out a set of blue pajamas with what looked like a space design, stars and planets and rocket ships and a large UFO on the chest. Scully stared down at the pajamas in her hands, chewing on her bottom lip and tears welling up in her eyes.

“Dana?” she asked gently, still standing in the doorway.

Scully sighed, still looking down at the pajamas. “They were sent to me in the mail, several months ago, along with a blue hat and a note saying that he knew they were too big for William right now, but he could use them later. That was the last thing I got from him before what happened…”

Monica looked at her with a sorrowful expression. “You mean Mulder. You haven’t received anything from him, had any contact, since that night at the quarry?”

She sniffed, shaking her head, and Scully turned to walk over to the changing table, retrieving some items she’d need for her son’s bath. Monica stepped over to the crib and glanced down at a peacefully sleeping William. A moment later, two things happened at once: Monica’s cell phone rang and there was a knock on Scully’s door. Both women quickly left the nursery, and while Monica answered her phone in the kitchen, Scully went to answer her door, but not before pulling her weapon free from its holster. But as she gazed into the peephole, she realized there had been no need for alarm. Sighing, she holstered her weapon and opened the door, stepping aside to allow the Lone Gunmen to enter.

The Gunmen stood there quietly as she shut the door, feeling slightly awkward after what had happened in Canada. Monica walked out of the kitchen, smiling.

“Who was on the phone?” Scully asked.

“Brad Follmer,” replied Monica. “He said Agent Doggett is going to make a full recovery, and he’ll be released from the hospital in a day or two.”

Scully breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that the man who’d risked his life for her and her child, on more than one occasion now, was going to be all right. Any other outcome would have been devastating, and she would never have been able to forgive herself.

Monica stared in concern at the look of sorrow that came over Scully’s face. “Dana… are you going to be okay? Would you like me to stay here with you for a little while?”

“You should go and see John, Monica. I’ll be fine, really. The Gunmen are here.”

At this vote of confidence, the spirits of the three friends standing by Scully’s apartment door rose considerably. The Lone Gunmen had felt nothing but distress and guilt ever since William had been forcibly taken from their care by that cult woman, believing they’d let Scully and Mulder down. If anything had happened to the precious son of their friends, they’d never have been able to live with themselves. After they said goodbye to Agent Reyes as she walked out the door, they once again turned back to Scully.

“How’s the little man?” Frohike asked.

Scully gave him a half smile. “He’s okay.” She sighed, and looked over the men standing there. “You guys hungry?”

“We’re starved,” replied Langly. Frohike and Byers nodded their agreement.

She smiled. “Why don’t you order some pizza?”

An hour and a half later, after the four friends had sat around the dining table and eaten, William awoke and Scully made her way to the nursery. She gathered him in her arms and turned to see the Gunmen had followed her.

“He’s all right,” she told them reassuringly, as his cries lessened. “I’m gonna give him a bath. Do you want to grab that stuff off the changing table?”

The Gunmen retrieved the baby soap, wash cloth, and hooded towel, and then followed Scully to the bathroom. After she filled five inches of warm water in the tub and undressed William, she lowered him into the warm water, supporting his head with one arm. The Gunmen watched the baby’s blue eyes stare fixedly up at his mother, as if mesmerized. Scully smiled down at him, running the soft wash cloth over his skin, and William began smiling and cooing contentedly.

“We’re so sorry,” said Byers.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she replied, using the wash cloth to wipe her son’s face.

Langly crossed his arms. “That Josepho was a mad man. I hope you didn’t believe anything he said about William, or Mulder.”

Byers cleared his throat. “I hope you know, Agent Scully, that if we knew how to find Mulder, we would. We’d tell him everything that’s happened. We’d tell him to come home.”

“It’s too dangerous for him to come home,” she said, lifting her son out of the tub and wrapping him in the hooded towel. “There is obviously an agenda out there, for Mulder, for William. I don’t know how to stop it. There are too many forces against us. I’m starting to think it’s impossible. Maybe that’s something I just have to accept.”

The Gunmen glanced at each other, concerned over the dull, defeated tone to her voice. Scully stood up with a slight groan. “I can’t wait until he’s bigger. This really kills my back.” She then carried William out of the bathroom and to the nursery, the three friends following her. She glanced at them walking into the room, and smirked.

“Wouldn’t you three like to hang out in the living room and, I don’t know, watch The Sci-Fi Channel or something?” she said good-naturedly.

They each let out a small, breathy laugh. “Nah,” Langly said.

“We want to make ourselves useful,” answered Byers, who handed Scully the baby powder as she placed a clean diaper underneath William on the changing table.

“Um… thanks,” Scully said, giving him a half smile as she took the powder from him. As she dressed William in the blue pajamas Mulder had sent her in the mail back in the spring, the Gunmen chuckled over the space design as they hovered next to the changing table. “But really, you can go relax in the living room. I’ll bring William out after I feed him.”

The Gunmen exchanged glances, smirked, and then Langly and Byers started to cross the room, heading towards the doorway. Once they’d left the room, Frohike glanced over at Scully, before looking back down at the baby, and spoke quietly.

“I think that the reason the… aliens are so interested in William is because he is a miracle, conceived the regular, old-fashioned natural way, born to a supposedly barren mother. And born to a father… a father who’d recently died and came back to life, who’d survived his abduction, whose body had fought off the alien replicant transformation. William is something the aliens cannot replicate. He’s proof that there is a greater Power somewhere out there… a power that can perform miracles, a power the aliens cannot understand. And William is proof that love between two human beings can overcome all odds. Albeit two humans with very special DNA, of course.”

Frohike gave Scully a comforting pat on the arm as she looked over at him, tears filling her eyes, and left the nursery, joining his friends in the living room. Scully stared after him for a moment, and then sat down in the chair, unbuttoning her blouse and undoing the nursing clasp on her bra, before guiding William to her full breast. She leaned back in the chair and sighed, closing her eyes, wanting nothing more than to rest after the ordeal she’d just been through. Twenty minutes later, after moving William to her other breast and continuing to nurse, she closed her eyes once again. But a moment later they flew open as her mind settled on Frohike’s last words to her before he’d left the room.

Using her pinky finger, she broke the suction William had on her breast, and he began to fuss, not wanting his meal to be over. She re-clasped her bra, buttoned up her blouse, and lifted the baby up to her shoulder, carrying him out of the nursery and into the living room, where the Lone Gunmen were sitting on her couch.

“What did you mean by ‘very special DNA’?” Scully asked.

The Gunmen immediately turned their heads from the television and looked at her. Byers and Langly looked slightly confused, and exchanged a brief glance with Frohike.

“Well, you and Mulder…” Frohike said. “Your DNA. We’ve, uh, we’ve got some theories about that.”

“Tell me,” said Scully.

Frohike exchanged glances with his two companions as she walked over and sat down in one of the chairs by the couch. Byers then looked over at her, and explained.

“I’m not sure if Mulder ever talked to you about a government experiment, using MUFON women,” he said.

“It had to do with their infertility,” said Langly.

“Diana Fowley was involved,” Frohike added.

A memory of Mulder came forward in her mind, of him sitting across from her at her dining table two years ago.

_“Scully, you were right about her. Everything. All of it. She collected data and supervised experiments on MUFON women. And who knows what else. She’d been working for Cancer Man the whole time. You were right all along.”_

She nodded. “Diana was in Europe, collecting data on MUFON women, on experiments.” Scully paused, thinking. “The experiments had to do with their infertility?”

Byers sighed. He wished Mulder hadn’t kept her in the dark on this. “Groups of MUFON women had their chips placed back in their necks, sending their cancer into remission. Chip ID numbers were logged and after normal relations with their significant others, they were soon pregnant.”

“Barren women, becoming pregnant,” Frohike said pointedly.

Scully’s eyes widened. “What?” Mulder hadn’t told her this. “Well, what… what happened to them?”

The Gunmen just stared at her, shaking their heads sadly, brows furrowing.

“The women all miscarried, and eventually the experiment was shelved, their chips were removed,” answered Byers.

“Probably as a way for those bastards to cover their tracks,” Langly added bitterly.

Frohike sighed. “I’m sure you know what happened to the women after that.”

She shook her head, closing her eyes. Those poor women. Scully felt engulfed in sadness as she remembered Penny Northern, tears pricking her eyes. She then sighed. “What does this have to do with DNA?”

“All the MUFON women had branched DNA in their system as a result of their initial abduction, no doubt from the process which removed their ova and left them barren,” Byers replied.

Scully swallowed, nodding, knowing exactly what he spoke of.

Byers sighed, considering his words carefully. “It’s entirely plausible, now this is only a guess… but it’s possible that if these women were to ever naturally ovulate again, the ova produced would contain this branched DNA. It’s also highly likely that an egg containing this branched DNA would be incompatible with normal sperm.”

“But I have this branched DNA,” she said, rubbing William’s back as he lay against her shoulder, holding her hair in his small fist, bringing it to his mouth. “I don’t see how this explains anything.”

The Gunmen exchanged a glance, and Byers continued.

“There is something different about you and your immune system, something those other women did not have. After your abduction your branched DNA was inactive, a waste product in your system once the experiments had ended. A normal, healthy human wouldn’t have been able to fight that off, and we still have no idea how you recovered. But the branched DNA remained in your system, correct?”

“Yes,” Scully answered, nodding.

Byers sighed once more. “Again, this is only a theory, but it’s possible that when you were abducted the second time, the alien virus entering your system by way of that bee sting and then the vaccine Mulder administered to repel it, it activated your branched DNA.”

“And you became a ready-made product of genetic engineering, immune to the alien virus and with the capabilities of passing that immunity to your offspring through the now-active branched DNA,” Langly said. “Well, hypothetically speaking, of course.”

Scully didn’t really know what to think, and some things didn’t seem to add up. “But this immunity, if that’s what it is, wouldn’t be able to be passed on to a child. You implied that the MUFON experiments failed because the branched DNA was incompatible with normal sperm.”

“Mulder’s sperm isn’t normal,” said Langly matter-of-factly.

Frohike and Byers looked at him, while Scully arched her eyebrow.

“What Langly meant,” Byers explained, turning to look at her. “Was that Mulder also has this immunity to the alien virus. He was exposed to the black virus in Russia and treated with the vaccine. It’s possible he also has the capability of passing on his immunity.”

Scully heaved a deep sigh. Nothing in her scientific mind could refute this theory, but there was also likely nothing that could ever prove it. “But how did I even ovulate? I still have no answer to this. I’m still just as barren as I was before.” She sighed again, recalling her most recent visit to the OB/GYN.

Langly shrugged his shoulders. Byers shook his head, sighing. “We don’t know. It's possible the chip played a role.”

“He’s a miracle, an answer to your prayers,” Frohike said confidently. “Maybe that’s all we need to know.”

The phone rang and Scully got up from the chair, handing a happily cooing William to Byers, before walking over to the desk by the window and picking up the cordless phone. It was her mother, and Scully calmly assured her that everything was all right. After making arrangements for her mom to come to the apartment in the morning and look after William while she was at Quantico teaching at the FBI Academy, she said goodbye and pressed the ‘end’ button.

Scully looked over at the couch, at the Lone Gunmen huddled together and playing with a giggling William, and smiled. She then turned and placed the cordless phone back in its base, when something caught her eye. Someone was standing outside on the sidewalk in front of her building, tall, with broad shoulders and brown hair, illuminated by the street lamp. Her breathing quickened, her stomach knotted, and her palms became sweaty, her heart pounded in her chest. _Mulder?_

She leaned closer to the window, needing to get a closer look, needing to see who this man was in the dark jeans and blue t-shirt, an all-too familiar shape standing in front of her building. But the man turned, and his profile became visible. Scully’s face fell, and her heart sank into her stomach. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t Mulder. It never was. It probably never would be.


	114. "I think she was born to serve an agenda." ... "I have a chance to stop that."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully attends the funeral of some friends that were lost. Things become even more complicated for her when a disfigured stranger ends up posing a threat to William. Scully makes a life-altering decision.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from the episode "Jump the Shark" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Vince Gilligan, Frank Spotnitz, and John Shiban. The dialog from the episode "William" doesn't belong to me either. It was written by Chris Carter and David Duchovny. They belong to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.
> 
> Sidenote #1: The overall plot of the episode "William" is so dumb, I have no idea how to fix it. Scully is dumb, the Quantico Lab is really fucking dumb, and even Doggett, of all people, is dumb. There is no getting around this. So, I'm going to ignore it. I have enough to deal with here.
> 
> Sidenote #2: I don't have beta readers. However, several people have acted as generous sounding boards as I bounce my ideas around and ask for opinions. Shout-outs to Kelly Connolly of The TV Mouse, Kim and Sage from Head Over Feels, and Valerie Veinotte (you can find her on Twitter obsessing over David Duchovny).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plumb - "I Want You Here"
> 
> An ache so deep  
> That I can hardly breathe  
> This pain can't be imagined  
> Will it ever heal?
> 
> Your hand so small  
> Held a strand of my hair so strong  
> All I could do was keep believing  
> Was that enough?
> 
> Is anyone there?
> 
> I wanna scream  
> Is this a dream?  
> How could this happen  
> Happen to me?  
> This isn't fair  
> This nightmare  
> This kind of torture  
> I just can't bear  
> I want you here  
> I want you here
> 
> I waited so long for you to come  
> Then you were here and now you're gone  
> I was not prepared for you to leave me  
> Oh, this is misery
> 
> Are you still there?
> 
> I wanna scream  
> Is this a dream?  
> How could this happen  
> Happen to me?  
> This isn't fair  
> This nightmare  
> This kind of torture  
> I just can't bear  
> I want you here  
> I want you here
> 
> God help me  
> God help me  
> God help me  
> Breathe
> 
> I wanna scream  
> Is this a dream?  
> How could this happen  
> Happen to me?  
> This isn't fair  
> This nightmare  
> This kind of torture  
> I just can't bear  
> I want you here  
> I want you here
> 
> An ache so deep  
> That I can hardly breathe

Scully pulled the knee-length sleeveless black dress from her closet and turned to look over at the bed, where William sat smiling and playing with several stuffed toys, including the _Toy Story_ alien her nephew Jack had gotten him when he was born. She smiled. Shortly after she was dressed, her mother was at the door, arriving to watch the baby for a couple hours. Scully knew it was time to leave, knew that she needed to be at the cemetery by 10:00 am, but the idea of leaving her mother and William alone in her apartment filled her with fear. They were unprotected. What if someone came for her son? What if someone hurt her mother, and took the baby? Or something even worse, something she refused to think about. Taking a deep breath and steeling herself, Scully grabbed her wallet, FBI badge, and keys, slipped on the light black jacket she’d taken from the coat rack, and walked out the door.

She drove down Washington Boulevard until she came to Arlington National Cemetery. The August sky was cloudless, a beautiful blue. Once she’d parked the car, Scully began to walk. She remembered the first time she’d walked through this cemetery, at nine years of age, when her family had attended the funeral for a close friend of her father’s. Even now, she was somewhat surprised that her father wasn’t buried there. She’d fully expected a man like her father, a navy captain, to desire the placement at Arlington with the ceremonial funeral. But that wasn’t what he had wanted at all. Her father may have loved the navy, and loved being a captain, but he’d loved the simpler things in life much more. Scully briefly smiled as she remembered her father taking her by the hand as they walked through the cemetery.

The Arlington Cemetery was once a plantation, the home of Robert E. Lee. His wife was a relative of George Washington, and she owned the property. During the Civil War, when Virginia was under federal occupation, Lee didn’t pay his property taxes and lost the plantation. At first, it became the headquarters of the Army of the Potomac. It was then turned into a massive graveyard for those dead from the war. By the end of the Civil War, Arlington Cemetery had 16,000 residents in the ground. Where once had been Mrs. Lee’s rose garden, now housed the Tomb of the Civil War Unknowns. But the former home of Robert E. Lee wasn’t just used as a graveyard, it was also used to house freed slaves. It provided not only housing, but also education and job training, which lasted nearly to the 20th century. They had their own section of the graveyard, and Scully came upon a number of headstones marked “Citizen” and “Civilian.” Today, three more honorable citizens would be buried there in the cemetery.

She walked further through the cemetery, passing row after row of perfectly aligned headstones commemorating those laid to rest, until she reached the area with three identical caskets above ground and chairs set up for the funeral service. Skinner was there, along with Agents Doggett and Reyes, the Gunmen’s assistant, Jimmy Bond, Byers’ parents, Langly’s father, and some people whom she didn’t know. After greeting her friends and the others in attendance, many of them from MUFON and other activist communities, the service began. Thirty minutes later, the service was over and most everyone departed. An elderly man walked over and slowly started folding away the chairs that had been used for the funeral.

Doggett looked over at Skinner, who was standing next to him. “Arlington. You must have pulled some big strings to get those guys in here.”

“It's the least I could do,” he replied somberly, before turning and walking away.

Monica turned to her partner as he was staring after Skinner. “Are you ready?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Skinner paused as he walked by Scully. “Dana?”

“I'll catch up,” she replied, before Skinner walked away, following Doggett and Monica. Scully stared at the three coffins, unable to believe she was really standing there, unable to wrap her mind around the fact the Lone Gunmen were gone. “They meant so much to me. I'm not sure if they ever really knew.”

“Nobody knew... what heroes they were,” said Jimmy Bond sadly.

A young woman standing with them shook her head. “It's not right. It's not.”

Suddenly, a man approached them, a man Scully didn’t know. He was tall, with blond hair, and wearing a black suit. They locked eyes, and there was some sense of recognition, but she couldn’t place him.

“No, it's not,” the man said. “Langly said to me, ‘The ones who never give up, they never die.’” He paused briefly. “I still don't know what that means.”

“It means that, like everyone buried here, the world is a better place for them having been in it,” Scully answered. “It means that they're gone, but they live on through us all.” She took one last look at the caskets holding the departed Frohike, Langly, and Byers, sighed, and turned to walk back through the cemetery.

Scully was wholly unprepared for the effect the death of the Lone Gunmen would have on her. For many years, while she was always appreciative of the help they gave, she’d only ever thought of them as Mulder’s friends. But from the moment of Mulder’s abduction over a year ago, the Gunmen had proved to be real friends to her as well. They’d supported her through her pregnancy, they offered their support when Mulder was returned, they were there to help Mulder get away to safety, and they’d stuck by her over these recent difficult months. She knew they genuinely cared for her, as a person, separate from Mulder, and she knew they adored her son. When she’d heard the news of their deaths from Doggett, she couldn’t believe it. She’d felt like she’d been punched in the gut. There were precious few people in the world Scully could absolutely trust, and she’d just lost three of them. On the drive back to Georgetown, tears filled her eyes not only as she thought of her friends, but of the sorrow she knew this news would bring to Mulder.

When she returned home, Scully hugged and thanked her mother for looking after William, before agreeing to attend Mass with her the following day at St. John’s Church. After kicking off her black heels and changing out of her dress, she carried William to the living room. Scully picked up the cordless phone and dialed the number for _The New York Times_ , asking for the Classifieds desk. In the Sunday morning edition, the following ad would run in the Personals: “Gunmen are dead. But I have the great advantage of being alive.”

Scully had little hope this message would be answered, or even received. She’d placed countless ads in the _Times_ over the past several months, and all had gone unanswered. Despite this, every day she faithfully checked _The Washington Post_ for some message from Mulder. She set the cordless phone back down in its base on the desk and carried William over to the fish tank. Holding him upright with one arm, while he faced the tank and gazed at the colorful fish, she sprinkled some flakes into the water. The baby reached and touched the glass. Scully’s eyes widened in amazement as the fish immediately swam towards William’s hands. She stepped back, pulling her son away, and instantly the fish resumed their normal movement within the tank.

Her heart pounding in her chest and her stomach knotting, Scully crossed the living room until she was standing in front of her stereo system. After turning it on and pressing the ‘play’ button, she stepped over to the couch and sat on the floor in front of it, setting William down on the rug, as the soothing sound of her partner’s voice filled the living room. For the next 80 minutes, Scully sat and William crawled and Mulder spoke.

*****

Late on Friday afternoon, September 7th, Scully arrived at FBI headquarters after a 45 minute drive from Quantico, and made her way towards an interrogation room on the second floor. She’d finally gotten the DNA analysis of the mysterious, disfigured stranger who’d suddenly appeared in the X-Files basement office just several days prior. He’d claimed to be one Daniel Miller, but that was easily proven to be false information, and then he refused to reveal his true identity. He’d spoken cryptically, and attempted to behave in a manner that might persuade others to think he was someone else. He wanted to expose those in the government with a hidden agenda, bring their crimes against the American people to light, something not much different than the crusade Mulder had found himself on, and in turn, Scully herself.

She had let him into her apartment, believing him to be a victim, just as she and Mulder were victims, of the ongoing government conspiracy to hide an impending alien invasion. He claimed to have seen Mulder, spoken to him and been directed by him, which Scully had been skeptical of. He’d counted on his behavior, and his blood test, to raise suspicions and spread doubt. But it had all been a ruse. This man was the one with the hidden agenda, and she’d ended up rushing William to the emergency room of Georgetown Memorial Hospital because of it.

While she had suspected her son must have been injected with something, Doggett later informing her that he’d found a vial and syringe, after hours spent in the waiting room with Monica the tests had all come back negative. It appeared that absolutely nothing had been injected into her son. The emergency room doctor had assured her that William was completely normal, but Scully was used to hearing this as every single medical test she’d ever had performed, both during her pregnancy and after his birth, had all come back normal.

Scully entered the interrogation room, seething at the sight of him sitting there at the table. “I have seen my share of the hideous, of the disgusting, and the repellent, but you, sir, are the most perfect expression I will ever see of all that is vile and hateful in life.”

“That may well be, but for a moment, you believed it,” he said. “That I was him.”

“I never believed it,” she stated firmly.

He sighed. “You wanted to believe.”

She glared at him, saying, “You are as false as your face.” She then watched him stand up from the table and move to stand in front of the two-way mirror. She knew on the other side of it stood Skinner and Doggett. “I bet you wish night and day that that bullet that was meant to kill you had succeeded.”

“You're wrong about that,” he replied. “When I look in the mirror I see something much different than the world sees. He could destroy my face and my dignity when he shot me in that office, but he couldn't destroy the one thing I love most… my hatred of him.”

“Your cigarette-smoking, son of a bitch of a father,” she said icily.

He nodded, almost smirking. “And Mulder's.”

Scully stared at him, wondering if he’d suspected she wouldn’t have already known this about her partner. “You counted on the DNA, that we'd buy it without question and not look any further. DNA's what Mulder shared with Jeffrey Spender.”

He sat back down at the table. “Half-brothers, raised apart. That's about all that Mulder and I ever shared.”

“You haven't seen Mulder, have you?” she asked, knowing the answer. “You haven't even talked to him. So, getting caught at the FBI, winning our trust was all towards one thing. It was only to get to William.”

“Who would think such a beautiful plan could come from such ugliness,” Spender replied.

Scully seethed in anger, and was forced to restrain herself from physically assaulting the man, wanting nothing more than to strike him.

He saw the look come over her face. “Sitting here, you'd wish me dead. Shortly, I'll do you the favor.”

She ignored this statement and pulled out the vial that Doggett had found with the syringe. “I had this checked. It's an unknown metal that you injected into my son.”

“It's a form of magnetite,” Spender explained, and then took a deep breath. “A gift.”

“A gift?” replied Scully, lacing her tone with sardonic bitterness. “Oh, and I should thank you for it? Is that it?”

He looked up from his hands, looking her in the face. “It's the key to everything. Your son is normal now because of it. His alien qualities turned off.”

Tears began to well up in Scully's eyes, all her bravado and anger, her righteous and cool self-collection starting to disappear.

“Having failed as a conspirator to control alien colonization, my father wanted nothing more than to see the world fail, too,” Spender said.

“So, what, you've prevented it now?” she asked, her voice becoming choked with emotion. “You've… prevented alien colonization by injecting this metal into my son?”

He took another deep breath. “Your son is the one thing the aliens need. I took revenge on my father by taking William away from them.”

None of this really made sense to her. “So, he's all right now? I mean, just like that? That’s it?”

Spender nodded.

“So, it's over. They'll let him be.” Scully began to feel a sense of relief she hadn’t felt since Mulder walked out her apartment door eight months ago.

He looked down at the table, his expression filled with sadness. “It'll never be over. They'll always know what he was. They'll never accept what he is.”

Her face fell slightly, but she tried to bolster herself. “Well, I can protect him.”

“And if you can't?” asked Spender. “Look at me. What they did, is this what you want for your son?”

Scully stared at him, at his horrible disfigurement, not able to really conceive what kind of horrors had been done to him. The tears in her eyes brimmed over, rolling down her cheeks. She quickly turned and left the room. Out in the hallway, Doggett gently grasped her arm as her tears streamed down her face, and silently walked with her down to the FBI parking garage. Without a word, she handed him her keys and got in the passenger seat of her car.

*****

September 14, 1996

“So… a boy or a girl?” Mulder asked.

She turned from the window and looked over at him, one hand on the steering wheel and the other bringing a sunflower seed to his mouth. She had no idea what he was talking about. Once again, he was inviting her into a conversation he’d already been having with himself. It always threw her off, and he seemed to be doing it more often these days. Sometimes she just couldn’t understand him lately.

“What?”

He glanced over at her and grinned. “You know… the Uber-Scullys you’re gonna pump out someday. You want a son, or a daughter?”

She swallowed and turned to stare straight ahead of her, watching the highway as they made their way out of Pennsylvania and back towards Washington, leaving the town of Home far behind. That conversation on the bench outside the Sheriff’s Station had been purely speculative, but this was now veering into the personal. It made her feel uncomfortable.

“I haven’t thought about it,” Scully replied evasively. “Working for the FBI isn’t exactly ideal for raising a family.”

“You’ve never thought about it?” Mulder asked, shock in his tone. “But you’re not gonna work for the FBI forever.”

Scully turned and looked over at him in surprise. This was the first time that he had ever hinted at there being an eventual end; an end to work, an end to the X-Files, and inevitably, an end to their partnership. She didn’t exactly know what to think about that. Her stomach knotted.

He turned his head and looked at her. “So… what are you saying? You’ve never seen yourself the stay-at-home-mom, living in the big suburban house with a wealthy husband and a brood of children running around?”

She smirked at him. “There was a very brief moment in medical school where I considered the possibility of such a life, but it just wasn’t for me.” Scully then sighed. “I guess I like little boys. My nephews are really cute.”

Mulder smiled at her, and she smiled back. She didn’t have to ask him if he’d prefer a son or a daughter. She already knew the answer. Scully turned her head to look out the window, picturing him holding a small infant, wrapped in a pink blanket, gazing down at the girl in adoration. She smiled to herself, and glanced back over at her partner as he brought another sunflower seed to his lips.

“What would you do with a girl, anyways?” he said, his voice teasing. “Teach her how to buy pantsuits and clean a gun?”

Scully stared at him, affronted, and Mulder burst out laughing.

“You fucking asshole.”

He only laughed harder. She rolled her eyes, fighting a smile.

September 5, 1997

Scully was sitting at the desk across from Mulder while he sat at the computer, typing up the case report about Mothmen living in the forest of northern Florida. His shoulder was healing nicely and he wasn’t moving his arm so gingerly today. A beeping from the other side of the office announced a fax coming through, and Scully got up from her chair and crossed the room to the back. Upon retrieving the fax from the machine, she saw that it was from Capital Women’s Care and immediately knew it must be her test results.

She stared at the forms in disbelief, the words “Premature Ovarian Failure” jumping out from the page and stabbing her in the ribs. This couldn’t be. It was impossible. As a doctor, she knew that after her nearly-terminal bout with cancer, and all the weight she’d lost, it would take some time for her cycle to regulate itself again. Raising her head from the page, she stared into space, her mind settling on something she’d tried hard not to think too much about. Ever since her abduction, her cycle, which had always been like clockwork since it first entered into her life as a pre-teen, had become sporadic and unpredictable. No longer a consistent 28 days, sometimes it was 21 and sometimes it was 65, or even 90.

Was this really happening? Could it really be true? She would never be a mother? As Scully looked back down at the page, the little boy and little girl that she’d thought she might one day name after her father and sister in some unknown future, faded away. A lifetime of possibilities vanished. Her future had been stolen from her before she’d even been able to really dream of one.

“Scully?”

She quickly turned to look at Mulder, almost having forgotten where she was, and saw his expression matched the concern in his tone of voice. Scully froze, unable to move or speak, and as her eyes met his, she once again pictured him holding a baby girl wrapped in a pink blanket, and her heart broke into a million pieces, shards that began to stab her over and over.

*****

Doggett pulled Scully’s car up to the curb in front of her apartment building and put it into park. The flow of her tears had stemmed, and she sighed as he shut the engine off. After they got out of the car, he handed her the car keys and he assured her that he had no problem hailing a taxi back to headquarters, where he would finish up with Jeffrey Spender. Scully nodded, and after thanking Doggett, she walked into her building.

Once she was inside her apartment, she was greeted by Monica. William, from his perch in his godmother’s arms, looked at his mother and smiled, reaching for her. Scully smiled, her heart swelling, and reached for him, holding him in her arms as she walked into the living room. After she sat down on the couch, Monica joining her, they talked about all that Jeffrey Spender had said in the interrogation room.

“Do you think he was telling the truth?” Monica asked.

“I don’t know,” replied Scully. “I guess only time will tell.” She sighed. “I’m going to go give William his bath and feed him before I put him down.”

Monica nodded and watched her get up from the couch and head towards the nursery. She then stood and made her way into Scully’s bedroom, where she picked up the shopping bags from earlier when she’d taken William with her to the Georgetown Park shopping mall.

After he had sat in the tub for a while, splashing with his bath toys, Scully took William back to the nursery where she dressed him in a white romper and sat in the chair to breastfeed. Her thoughts dwelt on Jeffrey Spender and what had been done to him. If these men in the government, men like Cancer Man, who were working to aid and abed alien colonization, were to find out what he’d done, what would happen to him?

Would they really accept that William was cured? And was he? Really? She knew the iron compound in the quarry had destroyed that Super Soldier. Did that mean that the Super Soldiers and William came from the same source? She didn't want to believe it. And would these men, or the alien colonists, ever accept that William was not the thing they needed? Would they leave him alone? Or would they come for him, experiment on him, try to force him to turn back into what they’d thought he was? Would her child just become a lab rat?

And Scully’s thoughts then turned to Emily. Tears filled her eyes and a lump grew in her throat. How that poor girl had suffered. She’d been brought into the world for no purpose other than to be tested on, to be poked and prodded like she was some kind of science experiment. Scully could have continued Emily’s treatment, perhaps even making it possible for her to live longer. But she couldn’t let that be her life. The kind thing, the merciful thing, had been to allow her daughter to die. But that decision had not been an easy one. It was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do, up until that point. The pain and anger, and the guilt, she’d carried with her for a very long time afterwards. And how many more children had been created with her ova? How many more of her daughters or sons had there been in the world, who’d been created by heartless men, born only to die?

That was not going to be William’s fate.

After nursing her son for 30 minutes, Scully brought him over to his crib and laid him down, giving him his pacifier. Instead of gazing at the moon and stars mobile hanging above him, William looked at his mother, not taking his eyes off of her as she stood next to his crib, watching over him and thinking.

Monica then appeared in the nursery doorway. “Dana… the room's all fresh for you. I threw out all the old bedding and bought some brand new stuff, okay?”

“Thank you,” she replied quietly.

“I know it's impossible to stop thinking about what he said about William,” Monica said as she stepped into the room. “But it's all lies, Dana. And you were the one who proved it.”

She felt the tears well up as she looked at Agent Reyes. “And how should I prove it now? By insisting that I can protect him, only to learn too late that I can't?”

A powerful feeling hit Monica, Scully’s words not sitting right with her. “You say it as if you have a choice.”

“He didn't have a choice to come into this life,” replied Scully, feeling her emotions rising to the surface, threatening to overwhelm her, her voice breaking. “I don't have a choice about what he is, or was. But I do have a choice about the life my son will have.” She turned away from Monica to look down at her son, his blue eyes still gazing steadily up at her. “And shouldn't I choose that he never have to be afraid of anyone or anything? And can I ever really even promise him that?”

“But who can?” asked Monica.

Scully reached over the crib and lightly tapped a star in William's mobile, before bursting into heartbreaking sobs. She had come to an act of desperation. She had no way of contacting Mulder, no way of discussing this with him. She had to make this decision alone. Discussing this with her mother, with her family, was out of the question. They wouldn’t take it well, and they’d no doubt put up a fight to prevent her from going through with it. What if this was William’s only chance for a normal life? But what if this ended up being a terrible mistake that could never be undone? What if one day Mulder finally came home, at some unknown point in the future, and asked for his son? What would he do when she told him his son was gone? Would he understand? Or would he walk back out the door, and never come back? She couldn't do that to him. How could she make such an irrevocable decision without him? But what could she do?

Monica grabbed hold of Scully’s arm and led her out of the nursery, into the living room, where she helped her sit down on the couch. Monica then went to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water, placing it on the stove to boil. Shortly afterwards, the two women sat on the couch and drank mugs of tea, not speaking. Monica was afraid to ask questions, but she also suspected that Scully probably wouldn’t have even answered them.

At 11:00 pm, Scully went to bed, and cried herself to sleep.

_She was there again. This same place she’d been every night since what had happened in the rock quarry. She was sitting on a bench in the waiting room of a train station. Waiting. Always waiting. William was on her lap. She looked down at him and picked him up, holding him tightly against her. God, how she loved him. She’d never thought she would ever feel this way about another human being, and she couldn’t even put her feelings into words. She’d do anything, sacrifice anything, for him. There was no one on earth more precious._

_They were waiting for Mulder. Every night she waited, hoping his train would arrive. It never would. She desperately needed to see him, talk to him, touch him. Waiting. Always waiting._

_Suddenly the sound of a train could be heard, loud, and as it rolled by wind whipped through the open air waiting room. Her heart pounded in her chest as she realized the train was slowing down. This had never happened before. The train always passed, kept moving, and her heart would sink with crushing disappointment. But not this time. The train was stopping._

_She stood up, holding William in her arms, and stared at the train doors, her breathing quickening. The doors opened, and there he was. She thought her heart would beat right out of her chest. Mulder smiled and rushed towards her, and she moved quickly to meet him. In a matter of seconds, his arms were around her and she cried tears of relief, and joy. With one arm around Scully’s shoulders, and holding his son with the other, they walked together over to the bench and sat down._

_“We need to talk about William,” she said quietly._

_“What’s happened?” Mulder asked._

_“He isn’t safe,” she whispered._

_He looked down at the boy in his arms, and rubbed his back. “What’s going on?”_

_She proceeded to tell him everything that had happened with Josepho and the UFO cult, the twisted things he’d said and the threat he’d posed to William. She told Mulder of his half-brother, Jeffrey Spender, and all that he had said, and done._

_“I believe him, Mulder. I looked into his ruined face, and I believed he was telling me the truth. I can’t protect William on my own. As long as he is with me, he’ll remain a target. They’ll come for him, over and over and over again. I have to stop it, the only way I can think of. I don’t know what else to do.”_

_Scully lowered her head, her chin quivering, and began to cry. He brought his hand to her face, lifting so she would look at him. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Their eyes met, communicating silently, and a painful understanding passed between them._

_“Do what you need to do, Scully.”_

_“I love you, Mulder. Please forgive me.”_

_Their lips met, kissing tenderly, and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her tightly against him as she wrapped her arm around his waist. “I love you, Scully.” They then held onto each other, William nestled between them, for a long time._

*****

On Sunday, September 9th, Scully attended Mass at St. John’s Church with her mother. After the service, Scully declined the usual Sunday brunch. She gave her mom a hug goodbye, and after Maggie kissed William on the cheek, she watched her mom walk off through the parking lot with her Aunt Olive, along with her cousins Fiona and Colleen. Once Maggie was getting into the driver’s seat of her car, Scully then turned around and walked back inside the church.

Father McCue was waiting for her. He gave Scully a small smile, and then led her back to his office. The priest opened the office door to reveal a woman inside, sitting in one of the wooden chairs in front of the desk. She was tall and appeared to be in her late-50’s or possibly early 60’s, with graying dark brown hair. She stood up and approached them, greeting the priest first.

“Hello, Father,” she said, before turning a smile on Scully. “Hello, I’m Mary Harrell.”

“Hi, Dana Scully.” She reached out and shook the woman’s hand.

“Mrs. Harrell is from the Catholic Charities Diocese of Alexandria,” said Father McCue.

Scully nodded, trying to swallow the lump now starting to grow in her throat.

Mary smiled again, looking down at William, contentedly snuggled against his mother. “I’m the director of the Center for Adoption Services at the diocese.”

The three then took their seats, the two women facing the priest as he sat down at his desk. Scully began to tell them of the dangerous threats against her son and his father, the threats that seemed to come from within government agencies, threats it was impossible for her to stop. She told them of her fears for William’s life, and for his father’s. She spoke of her fear that her child would always be in danger for as long as he was connected to her, and to Mulder.

Mary Harrell looked uneasily between Scully and the priest. “Father McCue, you know it’s against the policy of Catholic Charities to perform closed adoptions.” She then turned to address Scully. “We believe that it is for the good of the child that he knows who he is, and where he comes from. We only do open adoptions, and it is a rather strict policy. Have you considered adoption services through a state agency?”

Scully shook her head. “I can’t do this through any official channels that are regulated by the government. It’s men within the government, powerful men, whom I need to protect my son from. Please, this is my son’s only chance for a real life.” Her voice broke, and she lowered her head in a vain attempt to hide the tears now filling her eyes.

Father McCue pursed his lips. “I think in this case, Mrs. Harrell, it is in the very best interests of the child that any knowledge of his birth parents remains undisclosed.”

The woman sighed, and then looked at William, and at the fear and distress in Scully’s face. “All right. We’ll do a closed adoption. No record of the boy’s birth parents will be sent with him, wherever he goes. Your name will be kept out of our records. We’ll do our best to find a family through Catholic Charities who would be open to going along with a closed adoption.”

“As soon as possible,” Scully said, breathing a sigh of relief. “And you’ll take him? Today?”

Mary Harrell’s eyes bulged. “Today? Take him now?”

She nodded, and her tears brimmed over, her voice breaking. “I can’t walk out of here with him. I can’t take him back home. I have to leave him here, with you, or I’ll never have the strength to go through with this.”

Father McCue sighed, and lowered his head to stare at his entwined hands sitting on the desk, closing his eyes. After a moment, he looked up. “Yes, we’ll take William today. Right now.”

“But Father McCue…” breathed Mary Harrell, feeling flustered.

“Now, now, Mrs. Harrell,” the priest admonished. “We must do this. It is God’s will that we protect the innocent, and Dana’s son needs protection.”

Shortly thereafter, Scully retrieved William’s diaper bag, containing some extra clothes, diapers, pacifiers, stuffed animals, and the finger puppets Mulder had sent all those months ago. She’d also brought a container with several bottles of breast milk. These were all handed over to Father McCue and Mary Harrell.

The next day, Monday, September 10th, Scully called George Hill at Quantico and told him that she was taking the rest of the month off. He’d been shocked, as they were getting closer to the FBI Academy graduation, but he granted her a leave of absence. Late on Tuesday morning, a small note was slid underneath her apartment door. It was from Father McCue, informing her that a good, safe home had been found for William. She spent the rest of the day in bed, her gut-wrenching sobs filling the air. Eventually no more tears would come, and she lay there, feeling numb with grief. She felt dead, but she wasn't dying. She was alive, but she wasn't living.


	115. "Has it occurred to you that maybe this, too, is part of what you were meant to understand?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When tragedy strikes, Mulder worries about his family. Scully's family learns of her decision. William arrives safely in Wyoming.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from the episode "William" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. Would I? NO. It was written by Chris Carter and David Duchovny, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sia - "I'm In Here"
> 
> I'm in here  
> Can anybody see me?  
> Can anybody help?  
> I'm in here  
> A prisoner of history  
> Can anybody help?
> 
> Can't you hear my call?  
> Are you coming to get me now?  
> I've been waiting for  
> You to come rescue me  
> I need you to hold  
> All of the sadness I cannot live with inside of me
> 
> I'm in here  
> I'm trying to tell you something  
> Can anybody help?  
> I'm in here  
> I'm calling out but you can't hear  
> Can anybody help?
> 
> Can't you hear my call?  
> Are you coming to get me now?  
> I've been waiting for  
> You to come rescue me  
> I need you to hold  
> All of the sadness I cannot live with inside of me
> 
> I'm crying out  
> I'm breaking down  
> I am fearing it all  
> Stuck inside these walls  
> Tell me there is hope for me  
> Is anybody out there listening?
> 
> Can't you hear my call?  
> Are you coming to get me now?  
> I've been waiting for  
> You to come rescue me  
> I need you to hold  
> All of the sadness I cannot live with inside of me
> 
> Can't you hear my call?  
> Are you coming to get me now?  
> I've been waiting for  
> You to come rescue me  
> I need you to hold  
> All of the sadness I cannot live with inside of me
> 
> I'm in here  
> Can anybody see me?  
> Can anybody help?

On Tuesday morning, Mulder was awoken to the sound of someone pounding on the trailer door. He glanced at the digital clock on his bedside table, which told him the time was 5:56 am, and groaned. Getting up from bed, he made his way out of the room and met Gibson in the hallway.

“It’s Valerie,” the boy said, his eyes widening. Gibson then rushed into the living room, not bothering to answer the door, and turned on the television.

Mulder sighed and walked to the front door, where the urgent knocking continued, and opened it to indeed find Valerie standing there in red plaid pajamas, her long dark hair a mass of messy waves.

“Turn on your TV! Now!” she said frantically, pushing past him and entering the trailer.

“It’s already on,” he replied, a hint of exasperation in his tone, and closed the door. “Gibson turned it on.”

He then followed Valerie into the living room, where Gibson stood frozen, staring at the screen.

“What’s happened?” Mulder asked, before turning his attention to the television.

His eyes widened and his mouth fell open upon seeing what was on the screen. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a movie, or something. This couldn’t truly be happening. But after a couple minutes, it finally sunk in. At 6:03 am, the three companions watched in horror as a second plane flew into the South Tower of the World Trade Center. This was real. It was truly happening. Right now. Their stomachs knotted, and Valerie’s eyes filled with tears. They watched the television screen in horrified, shocked silence, the news reporters’ commentary the only sound filling the living room.

At 6:37, reports came over the television that a third plane had flown into the Pentagon. Mulder’s eyes bulged, and immediately he thought of Scully and William. That was way too close to them. What if more attacks targeted Washington? Were they in immediate danger? He quickly stood up from the couch, walking past where Gibson and Valerie were sitting on the floor, side by side and cross-legged. Tears were streaming down Valerie’s face. As Mulder reached his bedroom door, Gibson called out to him.

“Don’t!” he said. “You can’t!”

“I have to,” Mulder replied firmly. “I need to know they’re okay. They need to get out of the city.”

Valerie sniffed, and turned her attention away from the screen to glance between Mulder and Gibson. “What’s going on?”

The boy pursed his lips. “He’s going to call Scully.” Gibson then looked over at the open doorway to the master bedroom and raised his voice. “It’s not safe to call her! What if her phone is tapped? What if they trace the call to the Rez?”

Mulder had just slipped his feet into his sneakers. He sighed. He didn’t know what to do. The Lone Gunmen were dead. And there was no way he could call Scully’s family members. They were probably being watched, too. He certainly couldn’t call FBI headquarters and talk to Skinner. An idea sprung to his mind and he walked determinedly walked out of the bedroom.

“Valerie, you got your keys on you?” he asked.

She looked up at him, pulled her keys from the left pocket of her pajama pants, and handed them to Mulder. With a quick thanks, he was soon out of the trailer.

“Where is he going?” asked Valerie, staring at the door.

“To your bar,” Gibson replied. “He’s gonna call Scully’s neighbor.”

She looked over at her young friend, knowing that Mulder hadn’t verbally communicated this information, and knitted her brows in suspicion. Was it really true that Gibson could read people’s minds?

“Yes,” he replied to her nonverbal question.

 _Even mine?_ she thought, her stomach knotting.

“Yep.”

Her eyes bulged, and Gibson grinned at her. Valerie’s face flushed with embarrassment, and she slowly turned her widened eyes back to the television screen, now fully aware that every thought would be shared with the teenage boy sitting next to her.

After walking over to Valerie’s trailer and getting into her black 1993 Ford F150 pickup truck, he took the short drive to the bar. Unlocking the entrance, he made his way to the back room behind the blue door. There he found the telephone and dialed information. He then received the number for Mrs. Griggs, Scully’s elderly neighbor across the hall, and placed the call. On the third ring, she answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mrs. Griggs?”

“Yes, this is she.”

“Um…,” Mulder had to think fast. “This is Scu… Dana’s brother, Bill. I need you to do me a favor, if you would.”

“Dana Scully? From across the hall?”

“Yes, her.” He cleared his throat, his guts churning with anxiety. But he then paused. “I can’t seem to get through to her at work. It might be the long distance on my phone. Anyways, I was wondering if you’d be able to call the FBI offices down at Quantico for me and see if she’s there?”

“Well, I can tell you she’s not there,” Mrs. Griggs replied. “I saw her earlier when I stepped out into the hall to get the morning’s paper. She was getting hers too, and I mentioned that I was surprised she wasn’t working. She said she’d taken the day off. I haven’t heard her door since. I’m sure she’s still at home. That’s probably why you can’t reach her at work.”

Mulder breathed a sigh of relief at the news that Scully wasn’t currently at any government offices. “Mrs. Griggs, can you do me a favor? In the case of an emergency, I might not be able to get through to her phone. So if for any reason, the authorities announce that the city of Washington, DC has to evacuate, tell Dana that she needs to head for Philadelphia and check into the place where we always stay.”

Mrs. Griggs paused. “And you said you're her brother, again?"

“Um… yeah, her older brother… Bill Jr.” He cleared his throat again. “Can you write this down? If the city evacuates, Dana needs to go to Philadelphia and check into our regular place.”

“Hold on, let me grab a pen,” replied Mrs. Griggs. After a few seconds, she spoke again. “Okay, it’s written down. Do you want me to tell Dana you called?”

Mulder briefly paused, considering whether that would be a good idea or not, but then spoke adamantly. “No, no. You don’t have to do that. I’m gonna call her right now. I had just assumed she’d be at work, that’s all. I’m sure I’ll be talking to her in just a minute.”

“Okay, then. I’ll give Dana this message in case there’s ever an emergency.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Griggs,” said Mulder. “I appreciate it. And, um, how’re you doing? You all right?”

She sighed. “It’s just awful what they’ve been showing on the news. I just can’t believe it. How could this happen?”

Mulder closed his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“They say there’s a reason for everything and that God works in mysterious ways,” said Mrs. Griggs, sighing again. “But I just don’t know.”

He nodded, thanked her again, and said goodbye, before hanging up the phone. Mulder shook his head, walking back outside and locking the bar’s front door. ‘A reason for everything.’ Didn’t that imply that something good would come of the situation? What good could those horrific attacks actually achieve? There was nothing. It seemed a senseless, pointless tragedy.

For the rest of the day, he sat glued to the television, along with Gibson and Valerie, feeling miserable and helpless. Unconfirmed and contradictory news reports were frequently commented on throughout the day, including a prevalent one about a car bomb having been set off at the headquarters of the US State Department in Washington. That was way, way too close to Georgetown, and Mulder would pace the carpeted floor of the living room. He felt stuck between a rock and hard place, weighing the current dangers occurring in Washington and the darker threat against his family. He knew that if he showed any real sign of himself he would no doubt put William in danger, but he desperately wanted to feel assured that his family was safe.

*****

On Sunday, September 9th, Mary Harrell watched as Dana Scully signed all the necessary paperwork, relinquishing her parental rights over her son. She’d merely signed everything ‘D.S.’ It was agreed upon that neither the boy’s birth certificate nor a copy of it would go with him to his new home, wherever he ended up going. The child’s birth certificate would stay with Ms. Scully, although a copy was made in case it was necessary to get on a plane. In the Catholic Charities paperwork, the child was only referred to as William, and no surname was given him. It was all very unofficial and off-the-books, and it didn’t sit right with Mary Harrell at all.

She then watched as Ms. Scully handed over her eight month old son to Father McCue. The child had gripped a strand of his mother’s hair so tight in his fist, it took quite some effort on her part to free herself. Kissing him on his face, tears rolling down her cheeks, she gave the boy to the priest. When she walked out the door, how the baby had wailed. She returned after a couple minutes with the diaper bag, and the boy reached for her. She stood as if frozen, and the baby continued to cry, wanting to be held by his mother. Tears streaming down her face, Dana Scully turned and walked back out of Father McCue’s office.

Mary sighed, watching as the priest settled the baby in his car seat. “I don’t like this, Father. I don’t like it one bit.”

“I know you don’t,” Father McCue said as he stared down into the child’s face.

“What if she should return, months or years from now, with a changed heart?” asked Mary. “What if she wants to know where her son has gone?”

The priest stood up straight and looked at her. “I wholeheartedly agree with open adoption, Mrs. Harrell. You know that. But there may be a greater purpose for this than you or I can see right now. If Dana should ever need to know where he is, should ever want to contact him, well… then that may also be God’s will.”

She sighed, and then quickly left the office. She caught up with Ms. Scully in the parking lot, calling out to her. The FBI agent stopped and turned around, looking at her, and wiped the tears from her face.

“What?”

“I just wanted to assure you that I completely understand your reasons,” said Mary. “But I also want you to understand something. If, at any time, this… danger… to your family ceases, and you come to me or Father McCue, we will tell you where your son is.”

Dana Scully’s eyes widened, and she shook her head, as if afraid. “He can’t… no one can know…”

Mary lifted her right hand, palm facing the younger woman in front of her reassuringly. “Your information will not go with the boy to his new home. Please keep in mind this completely goes against our policies and what studies have shown is best for children. Despite this, no one will ever be able to tell him who his parents are, no one will give him that information should he request it in the future. However, I am giving you the power to find him, and tell him yourself. If you should ever set foot in our offices at Catholic Charities and request information on where your son has been placed, that information will be given you. Do you understand?”

Mary watched as Ms. Scully stared, swallowed, and then turned around without a word. She crossed several feet to her car, got into the driver’s seat, and drove out of the parking lot. Mary sighed, and walked back inside St. John’s Church. Before she departed with the baby for Alexandria Christ House, Father McCue strongly suggested that she find a home for the child as far away from Washington as possible.

She spent all of Sunday afternoon and evening making phone calls to different chapters of Catholic Charities around the country. Most people she spoke with completely shut down at the words “closed adoption.” Mary felt like she was getting nowhere. Surprisingly, on Monday morning, Catholic Charities of Wyoming called her back. There was a couple who’d agreed upon a closed adoption with possible extenuating circumstances. They’d been trying for years to adopt a child, and their attempts had always fallen through. The woman on the other end of the phone assured Mary that they were “good, Christian people.”

On Monday afternoon, Father McCue purchased a plane ticket to Wyoming for Mary. At 4:40 am on Tuesday, September 11th, United Flight 696 departed Washington Dulles International Airport with Mary and William on board. At 8:30 am EST, their flight landed in Denver, Colorado. After running quickly to her connecting gate, Mary carried William aboard United Flight 2959. At 9:10 am EST, the flight departed Denver International Airport. Forty minutes later, it landed in Cheyenne, Wyoming, just 10 minutes after the FAA grounded all aircraft within the continental United States and instructed all those that were already in the air to immediately land.

*****

Early on Tuesday morning, Scully awoke to the birds singing outside her bedroom window. After a few blissful seconds of nothing, her mind then became filled with everything, and she began to cry, pressing her face into the pillow. A little while later, she got out of bed and walked into the living room, turning on the television, before heading to the kitchen to put the tea kettle on to boil. Her breasts ached terribly and it made her feel sick, but she fought the urge to pump in order to get some relief. She knew that wouldn’t help, it would only prolong the ordeal. Reaching into a cabinet, she pulled out the bottle of Sudafed she’d purchased on Sunday and took two pills. She’d already put on the tightest bra she owned, and was now preparing sage tea, all in an effort to dry up her milk as quickly as possible.

Walking over to her front door and opening it, Scully stepped out into the hallway and reached down for _The Washington Post_ that was laying on the floor, just as her neighbor across the hall opened her door.

“Good morning, Dana!” she greeted her, surprise in her voice, before looking over Scully’s appearance. “Didn’t expect to see you still here. You’re usually gone by now.”

She sighed and glanced down at her pajamas. “Morning, Mrs. Griggs. Um, I took the day off.”

The older woman smiled. “Well, it’s about time. I’ve always told you that you work too much.”

Scully could only return a slightly half smile. “Yeah, I know. Well… take care.” She then quickly stepped back inside her apartment, closing and locking the door, before heading back into the kitchen to pour the boiling water into her mug of sage tea. The stuff tasted awful, and she added a generous amount of lemon and sugar.

Scully carried her steaming mug into the living room, where she sat on the couch and took a peppermint candy from the dish on the coffee table, knowing that peppermint had been on that list she’d received from her doctor containing things that would hinder breastmilk production. She then focused her attention on the morning news being broadcast on the television. Her eyes widened in horror as what was happening on the screen finally registered, breaking through the buzz of pain and grief that already filled her mind.

At 9:59 am, the South Tower of the World Trade Center collapsed, followed by the North Tower at 10:28. Scully sat stunned, unable to really believe what she was seeing, tears welling up in her eyes and brimming over. At 11:15 am, a small piece of paper was slipped underneath Scully’s apartment door. She gazed at it, her stomach knotting. Steeling herself, she got up from the couch and walked towards her front door. She then crouched down, picking up the note, and opened the folded piece of white paper.

“Dana,

A good home with loving parents was found for your son. Rest assured that he made it safely out of the DC area early this morning. He will be safe in his new home and well taken care of. My thoughts and prayers will continue to be with you, and William. It is in God’s hands now. Put your trust in Him.

Father McCue”

A sob escaped her throat, and Scully crumpled the note in her hand. Coverage of the World Trade Center disaster was still sounding out in her living room. He was gone; she’d given away her precious baby to strangers. Her partner would never come home, and if he ever did he would hate her forever. She’d lost Mulder. She’d lost William. She felt like the world was falling apart.

Her telephone kept ringing all afternoon, but Scully refused to get out of bed and answer it. Later in the evening, she walked out to her living room and went over to the desk in front of the window. She played the messages on her answering machine. Most were from her mother and brothers, wanting to know if she was all right. Scully heaved a sigh and called Charlie, letting him know that she was fine, that she’d also taken some time off from work, and to pass this along to the rest of the family. The last message had been from George Hill, telling her that he might need to cancel her leave of absence in the wake of the day’s events as she might be needed at Quantico. She didn’t call him back.

An hour later, just before 7:30 pm, there was a knock on Scully’s door. She walked over and looked through the peephole. Her stomach instantly churned into tight knots and she hesitated, not wanting to open the door. There was another knock.

“Dana?”

She heaved a sigh, unlocked the door, and opened it to reveal her mother standing there, looking out of sorts. Maggie breathed a sigh of relief, stepping forward to hug her daughter. “Oh, honey. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Mom. Didn’t Charlie call you?” Scully stood there as her mother held her tight, but was unable to return the hug.

“Yes, he called me,” answered Maggie, letting go of her daughter. “But I just needed to see you, and my grandson. It’s been such an awful day.”

Scully was forced to step aside as Maggie walked past her and into the apartment. After closing the door, she remained frozen in front of it, helplessly watching her mother walk into the living room, heading for the nursery. Guilt flooded Scully’s stomach, spreading to sit heavily in her chest, and it made her want to vomit.

Maggie glanced inside the nursery, brows furrowing, and then walked down the hallway to look in her daughter’s bedroom. She turned and walked through the kitchen until she was right back in front of the apartment door.

“Where’s the baby?” Maggie asked.

“He’s gone,” whispered Scully, swallowing the lump now growing in her throat.

Maggie stared at her. “What do you mean, ‘he’s gone?’”

Her chin quivered, and she chewed on her bottom lip, tears welling up in her eyes. “He wasn’t safe, Mom. I couldn’t keep him safe.”

“What have you done?” demanded Maggie in an accusatory tone, her eyes widening.

“He’s safe now,” Scully whispered. “He’s in a good home.”

Maggie’s mouth fell open in utter shock, and hot tears filled her eyes. “You… you gave away my grandson?” Anger rose up inside her. “Dana, how could you?! I told you that you needed to love William! And raise him in spite of everything! That’s what being a mother is! You don’t just abandon your children when things get hard! You don’t just give up!”

Scully sank backwards against the wall, weeping. “I couldn’t risk his life anymore… no matter how much I wanted him here with me,” she choked between sobs. “I couldn’t protect him.”

“Why couldn’t you have trusted that God would protect you both?” Maggie demanded, tears rolling down her cheeks. “What happened to your faith, Dana? Your son was a miracle! And you gave him up! How could you do this?!”

Not wanting to say something she’d only regret later, and unable to even look at her daughter, Maggie then walked out the door, leaving Scully to her heart-wrenching sobs. Sometime later, as Scully lay on the couch, numb with grief, her telephone rang. She had no desire to answer it, or to even move. The answering machine clicked on, and then the voice of Bill Jr filled the living room.

“Dana, what the hell have you done?! Mom is hysterical. She’s threatening to go to the authorities, and petition the courts to have you deemed mentally unwell and incompetent, so this decision you’ve made about William can be reversed.” He heaved a sigh into the phone, pausing. “If I ever lay eyes on that Mulder again, I’m going to break his fucking neck.” Bill Jr then slammed down the phone, and the answering machine clicked off.

Scully sighed. Of course her brother would blame this entirely on Mulder. And as her thoughts turned to her partner, she couldn’t help but feel that if he’d only come back home, if he only hadn’t broken off all communication with her, she might still have William. But even though she miserably lay there, guilty and heartbroken, Scully still believed she’d made the right choice, and she wasn’t going to back down. Not for her mother, or her other family members. Not for anyone.

*****

At 8:40 am local time, Mary Harrell stood outside the Arrivals doors at the Cheyenne Regional Airport with William in her arms. The airport was in chaos. All flights had been cancelled. Planes that had recently taken off already were returning.

After several minutes of waiting, a Jeep Grand Cherokee pulled up to the curb. Mary was then approached by the driver, a middle-aged woman with cropped short dark red hair.

"Hi, I'm Annie," the woman said. "I'm a social worker with Catholic Charities. I believe we spoke on the phone."

"Hello, yes, I'm Mary Harrell," she said in greeting. "And this is William."

Annie smiled. "Well, then, let's get going."

Fifteen minutes later, the two women were walking into the Catholic Charities offices in downtown Cheyenne. Paperwork was signed and exchanged. An appointment was made with a local pediatrician to give the baby a checkup on the following day.

"The home you found for the child, is it here in the city?" asked Mary.

"Oh, no, it's way up in Fremont County," Annie replied. "About a four and a half hour drive northwest."

Mary nodded, and glanced down at the baby boy in her lap, contentedly sucking on a pacifier. The women discussed at length the need for discretion, and while Mary didn't go into detail about Dana Scully's concerns for her son's safety, she did her best to explain why the identities of the birth parents had been omitted from the Catholic Charities records.

William soon became fussy, and Annie called for one of the nursery volunteers to take him upstairs. While the social worker was instructing the younger woman to give the baby a bath and feed him some formula, Mary looked inside her purse. She noticed the copy of William's birth certificate she'd used to prove the baby's age to the airline gate attendants. 

Her gut instincts told her to hand the copy over to Annie, and that it should be kept with the boy's paperwork. But then she remembered the distress and fear in Dana Scully's face, and the promise she had made to the poor woman. Mary looked up, noticing the small paper shredder against the far left wall. As Annie was handing over William's diaper bag, which had traveled with him all the way from Virginia, Mary stood up and walked over to shredder. A moment later, the copy of the boy's birth certificate was gone.

The following day, Mary Harrell accompanied Annie and William to the pediatrician’s office. A general checkup was performed and blood work was taken. On Friday, September 14th, Mary Harrell returned to Cheyenne Regional Airport and flew back to Washington. That same morning, Annie packed William, his diaper bag, and all the appropriate paperwork into the Catholic Charities’ Jeep Grand Cherokee, and she then departed Cheyenne along with a fellow social worker. Four hours and 25 minutes later, they were driving through the small city of Riverton, with a population just shy of 10,000 people. They drove straight through to other side of the city, past the Riverton Regional Airport, and outside the city limits, driving north on Route 26 until they came to rural farmland. The roads were not marked, seemingly having no names, and the directions were filled with signs to look for along the way. But soon it was evident that they were driving around in circles.

They pulled over in front of a house, and Annie hopped out of the car, walking up to the front door. After she knocked, she was greeted by the soft baby-face of a plump housewife, her two small children clinging to her legs.

“Hi, sorry to bother you,” greeted Annie. “But we’re lost.” She nodded behind her to the Jeep parked on the road.

The woman nodded, giving her a knowing look, as if this clearly wasn't the first time she'd met lost travelers. “Where’re you tryin’ to get to?”

Annie looked down at the folder in her hands. “Do you by any chance know where the Van de Kamps live?”

“Sure I do!” she replied, smiling. “The Van de Kamp farm is on North Hidden Valley Road, near the Boysen Reservoir.”

“Um… where is that?” asked the social worker. She had their address written down on paper, but it had seemed impossible to find in reality.

The woman laughed. "Get back on Route 26, heading north, and their road is the last road before you see water. If you’ve come to the lake, you’ve gone too far. Turn right onto the road. Their farm is a mile down. It’s one of only two homesteads on the north end of Hidden Valley Road. They got some beautiful land over there. You won’t be able to miss it.”

Annie thanked the woman and got back in the Jeep to join her colleague. She glanced into the back seat and looked at the baby, his big blue eyes meeting hers, and she smiled. It was such a lovely afternoon, and so driving around the Wyoming countryside wasn’t as much of a nuisance as it might’ve been. The sun was shining brightly overhead, the sky was a perfect shade of blue, and they were surrounded by beautiful greenery. They soon turned back onto Route 26, in search of North Hidden Valley Road.

*****

Inside the farmhouse, he was in front of the coffee table, painting a wooden buffalo figure that he’d recently carved. He dipped the brush into the white paint, and swept it over the wooden surface. A hundred things were on his mind. The neighboring farm, a property adjacent to theirs, was going under. That Ferguson boy thought he could take over his daddy's farm after he passed, but that fool ran it into the ground, seeing how he knew next to nothing about farming land or raising animals. Poor Mrs. Ferguson had come over, begging him to buy the farm and take it over, not wanting her husband's decades of hard work to go down the toilet. He'd seriously considered it, knew it was probably the right thing to do, but then they'd gotten that phone call about the adoption. His mind was now occupied with other things.

He glanced up, and noticed his wife of 18 years sweeping the floor by the doorway. It was Friday afternoon, and it seemed like she’d done nothing but clean since Monday morning. “Easy there, hon. You're cleaning so hard I'm afraid you're going to stick the dog in the dishwasher.”

She stopped sweeping, and stood there with the broom in her hands, staring down at the floor. She didn’t want to get her hopes up about the child. She’d spent her 20’s trying to get pregnant, and failed. She’d spent her 30’s trying to adopt, without success. Every time they’d tried to adopt a baby in the past, the birth mother always changed her mind and backed out. Time and again, in the end, the mother didn’t want to give her child up. This all just seemed so sudden, too good to be true. Something had to go wrong. Something always went wrong. A process that normally took months was happening in just days. A mother was actually parting with her child, so it seemed, so there must be a good reason for it. Something had to be wrong. Something always went wrong.

He set the wooden buffalo carving and the paintbrush down, and got up from the desk, walking over to her. “Hey. Come on, now. Quit it. This is what we dreamed about. What we prayed for.”

“I know, I'm sorry,” she said, sighing. “I just can't stop wondering why. Why give up a child? Give it up to strangers?”

“God has his reasons and his ways,” he replied. He then grabbed her by the arms and leaned in, kissing her.

Suddenly, the sound of a car coming up their driveway interrupted them. They turned and looked through the open doorway, watching the vehicle come to a park in front of the house, their hearts starting to pound. Two women got out of the Jeep, one starting to walk towards them with a folder in her hands, and the other going to the rear door and opening it.

“Mr. and Mrs. Van de Kamp, hi,” said Annie as she walked towards the front porch. “This was so hard to find.” She stepped up to the porch. “I'm so sorry but there's a page here that didn't get signed. If I can just get you to do that now. Here we go. Okay. Right there.” Annie handed the papers over to Mr. Van de Kamp along with a pen. “Thanks.”

She watched the other woman getting the baby out of the back seat of the Jeep as her husband signed the papers. “I keep asking myself a question. I know there's been a medical exam… but are you sure he's okay?”

“Now, honey,” he said to her, as he handed the papers back to the social worker.

“Why would the mother give him up?” she asked him, still unable to believe this could really be happening.

Annie gave her a small smile. “You should understand… this was a life choice by a single mother, and a terribly difficult decision for her. But I can say it was only for the good of the child.”

The answer slightly satisfied her, at least for the moment, and she nodded her acceptance of this explanation. The second social worker appeared, with a diaper bag strapped over one shoulder, walking up to the porch holding the baby. The younger social worker then handed him to her, and she gazed down at the baby boy, dressed all in blue, including a blue bunny ears hat adorned with a moon and stars design.

“I want you to meet William,” Annie said, smiling.

They stared down into the face of their new son. His big blue eyes looked up at them. He was so beautiful.

“Now, included with the paperwork is a form you can fill out and send to legally change his name,” explained Annie. “I’m sure you’ll want to make him a Van de Kamp as soon as possible, and give him a first name that you might prefer.”

“No,” she replied, looking up from the baby’s face. “It’s bad luck to change someone’s Christian name.”

He chuckled, glancing over at his wife, before turning to the social worker and giving a shrug. “I guess we’re stuck with William. And I’d wanted so badly to name him ‘Truck.’”

She gave her husband a long-suffering look, shaking her head as he grinned at her. He’d done nothing but come up with ridiculous names all week, teasing her endlessly, trying to get her to laugh. The Van de Kamps then invited the social workers inside, where they soon were sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee.

“As you were told before, Catholic Charities normally only handles open adoptions,” said Annie as she set her coffee cup down on the table.

Mr. and Mrs. Van de Kamp nodded. They’d gone to every state adoption agency available in Wyoming, and the waiting lists were very long. In the few opportunities over the past 10 years where an adoption process had actually begun, it had always been a standard closed adoption. Of course, it always fell through. About a year ago, someone had suggested contacting Catholic Charities. They’d been surprised over the open adoption policy, but they agreed to be placed on the list. Mrs. Van de Kamp had thought nothing would ever come of this, as she believed that the organization would much rather place children with Catholic families. She’d been utterly surprised upon the phone call she’d received on Monday.

“It is the policy of Catholic Charities that it is in the best interests of children to know exactly who they are, and where they come from,” continued Annie. “It spares them a lot of pain and anxiety when they’re older.” She drummed her fingertips against the coffee cup. “But… like I said on the phone, this adoption has extenuating circumstances.”

Mr. and Mrs. Van de Kamp glanced uneasily at each other, and then down at the boy in her lap.

“We can’t give you much information about William’s birth parents,” Annie said. “Truth is, no one even knows who his biological father is. There was no record of him anywhere. I was made to understand that the mother was put in a very difficult situation, and could no longer care for the child. You won’t find her name among our records, either. So, it’ll be up to you both as to… what you decide to tell William as he gets older. There really isn’t a lot of available information to tell, in the first place.” She shrugged, sighing.

Mr. and Mrs. Van de Kamp nodded, both wondering what had occurred to bring this little boy into their lives.

Annie took another sip of her coffee before continuing. “Now, I was also made to understand, that a way was left open for the birth mother to contact you in the future, should she ever choose to. The way it was presented to me, it doesn’t seem like this is something she’d want to do, but that door _is_ open. She might not walk through it, though.”

Mrs. Van de Kamp swallowed, and looked at her husband. He gave her a nod, and a reassuring smile. She smiled in return, and then looked down at her new son, running her hand over the soft hair atop his head.

*****

At 8:35 pm on Friday, September 14th, Scully lay on her couch, staring at the television screen. She had no idea what program was on, and even though the sound filled her living room, she had no idea what was being said. Her mind was a fog of hopelessness and grief, and her loneliness had now become unbearable. She needed Mulder now more than ever, but he was nowhere to be found. The need to hear his voice, see his face, and feel his arms around her, burned like a fiery blaze within her heart, throbbing painfully beneath her ribs.

Scully bit her lip to stop herself from crying, but it was useless, and a single tear escaped, cascading down her nose. Her telephone rang, just like it had rang every day, several times a day. She never answered it. The answering machine clicked on, and then Jennifer’s own tearful voice could be heard.

“Dana, please answer the phone. Please. You need to talk about this. Don’t shut yourself off from us.” She sighed into the phone. “Charlie and I love you very much, and we’ll be here whenever you’re ready to talk.”

As the sound of the machine clicked off, Scully began to cry. Random images flooded her mind in her haze of anguish: her father, her sister, Emily’s grave in San Diego, Mulder’s headstone, spreading dirt over his casket, Mulder holding William in his arms, Mulder singing to William, Mulder watching basketball on the couch with William, Mulder feeding William a bottle, Mulder giving William a bath in the kitchen sink, Mulder packing his bags, Mulder crying and walking out the door, a passing train.

Scully lay there, longing for and dreading the same thing: Mulder’s return. _If_ he ever came back. As much as she was desperate to see him, to enjoy the safety and comfort of his presence, her stomach churned into knots of fear at the thought of him coming home. A small part of her started to hope that he never would. She wasn’t sure which outcome would be worse: stormy rage and seething disappointment over her betrayal, or, more than likely, Mulder’s silent, heartbroken acceptance of the new status quo.

She felt her grief-stricken body and mind pulling her under, but Scully fought off sleep. She was afraid to sleep, afraid to dream. On Saturday night, she’d brought William to her bed and watched him sleep. She didn’t shut her eyes the whole night, not wanting to miss a single minute of watching her son at peace. She wanted these memories to replace the horrid, fearful ones that constantly plagued her. She hadn’t slept much at all since.

A knock at the door startled her out of her miserable reverie, and she sighed. Scully refused to get up off the couch and answer it.

Another loud knock. “Dana, it’s John. If you don’t open the door, I’m gonna use my key.”

Scully sighed, and sat up, wiping the tears from her face. Crossing the room to her apartment door, she opened it to see Doggett standing there holding a bottle of brown liquor in one hand and two tumblers in the other. He hadn’t been at her apartment since after Jeffrey Spender had showed up, when he’d come back to perform his regular inspection for cameras and microphones.

“The man who murdered my son is dead,” Doggett said to her. He then looked her over, at her messy hair, bloodshot eyes with dark circles, still dressed in pajamas. “I’ve got some top quality Southern Comfort, here. We both could use it, I think.”

Her eyes widened at this news, and when she took in the sorrow etched across Doggett’s face, her own face crumpled and she began to cry again.

He sighed, stepping into the apartment, shutting the door with his foot. “This is what I mean. You need a fuckin’ drink. We both do.”

Doggett walked Scully back into the living room, where they sat on the couch. After setting the bottle of Southern Comfort and the two glasses on the coffee table, he then poured two tumblers full of liquor, handing one to over to her. Scully brought the glass to her mouth and took a drink. The alcohol seared her throat, but at least it made her feel something, instead of nothing. After she swallowed two more gulps of the liquor, she started to feel warm and relaxed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a drink, knowing it had to have been before she learned of her pregnancy.

“How did you find out about the adoption?” she asked him, leaning back against the couch.

“The word adoption was never mentioned, but they know your son is gone,” Doggett replied. “I got called into Kersh’s office this morning, where AD Torrance asked me if I knew that you’d sent your baby somewhere, and then he asked me if I knew where.” He chuckled darkly. “Apparently, I was told, this happened days ago, but with all the chaos over the World Trade Center they didn’t seem to exactly know when your son disappeared. I was told it would be in my best interests if I found out this information, for your son's protection.”

In that moment, Scully was bolstered, and a small feeling of victory welled up inside her. She believed, more than ever, that she’d made the right decision. She’d won, and the FBI could go fuck themselves.

Doggett sighed. “Are you okay?” He sighed again. “Of course you’re not okay. That was a dumb question.”

“We don’t have to talk, John,” Scully said simply. “Let’s just drink… and not talk.”

He gave her a small smile as she slid over until their arms were touching, and the two friends leaned back against the couch, drinking and not talking. Eventually, Scully fell asleep with her head on Doggett’s shoulder.

*****

On Friday evening, September 14th, Mulder attended a Squaw Dance just outside of town, Gibson and Valerie convincing him to go with them. They told him it would be good for him to get out of the trailer more, and to actually become a part of the community. After all his Navajo neighbors had done for him lately, he thought they made a good point. At 6:35 pm, Mulder arrived at the ceremonial camp, hopping out of Valerie’s truck along with Gibson.

The gathering crowd of people looked surprised and genuinely happy to see him, the sight of Mulder finally socializing convincing them that the Squaw Dance they had put on for him just a week earlier had indeed cured him of his depression sickness. After mingling with his neighbors, meeting some for the first time since he’d arrived on the reservation back in the winter, the ceremony began. Mulder stood outside the hogan, listening to the Navajo being spoken inside by the medicine man, Kee Tso. Thankfully, Valerie interpreted for Mulder, whispering the English translation while she stood next to him.

After a short while, the men standing outside the hogan started the Enemy Way chant, and women dressed in traditional garb began to dance. Gibson stared at the dancers, at the perfectly precise movements their feet made on the ground. Valerie glanced over at her young friend, and smiled. Mulder closed his eyes, and leaned back against the hogan wall. The chanting filled his mind as his thoughts turned to Scully, relaxing his body as he began to meditate. Despite the horrific events that had unfolded, he’d felt comforted while watching the news all week, knowing that no harm must’ve befallen his partner or his son. His family was still safe. Once again, Scully came to him as if in a dream, and he felt encouraged, strengthened, and loved.

Unsure whether a few minutes had passed or 30, Mulder opened his eyes and the scene in front of him filled his senses. He turned to his left and looked up into the cloudless sky, filled with stars. He quickly spotted the Big Dipper constellation, and moving his eyes upwards from Merak and Dubhe at the front, his gaze fell on the North Star, burning brighter than any other.

Some 645 miles north of Kayenta, Arizona, William gazed up at the shapes dangling above his crib. These shapes were unfamiliar. He raised his hand towards them, pointing, willing them to move just like the other shapes did. He continued to point, concentrating. After several seconds, these strange new shapes finally began to move.


	116. “I mean, these are powerful, powerful desires. I mean, they're the very essence of what make us human. The very essence of Christmas, actually.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Van de Kamp finds something in William's diaper bag. Scully tries to cope with her loss. Mulder searches for a way back home. The holidays come around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fleetwood Mac - "As Long As You Follow"
> 
> I've been searching  
> For a plot of gold  
> Like the kind you find  
> At the end of the rainbow
> 
> I've been dreaming  
> I thought it was in vain  
> Ah but now you're here  
> Can't believe that you're back again
> 
> Now I know I can't lose  
> As long as you follow  
> I'm gonna win  
> I'm gonna beg, steal or borrow  
> As long as you follow
> 
> I've been wandering  
> Gone away too far  
> But the road was rough  
> To get back where you are
> 
> And the sun went down  
> It never seemed to rise  
> Ah but now you're here  
> With the light shining in your eyes
> 
> Now I know I can't lose  
> As long as you follow  
> I'm gonna win  
> I'm gonna beg, steal or borrow  
> Yes I can live today  
> If you give me tomorrow  
> As long as you follow
> 
> Now I know I can't lose  
> As long as you follow  
> I'm gonna win  
> I'm gonna beg, steal or borrow  
> Yes I can live today  
> If you give me tomorrow  
> As long as you follow
> 
> (As long as you follow)  
> As long as you follow  
> (As long as you follow)  
> As long as you follow

He sat at his desk, trying to finish the project he’d started earlier that morning. One by one he attached the four white buffaloes he’d carved and painted to the handmade mobile. While her husband was busy at the desk, she gave William a bath and fed him a bottle. From the boy’s diaper bag, she’d found the space pajamas with stars and planets and a large red flying saucer, and dressed him for bed. She then walked him into the nursery, which was now covered in sky blue wallpaper with clouds all over the walls, rocking him gently.

She was somewhat surprised that William wasn’t a fussy baby. He hadn’t cried at all since the social workers dropped him off earlier that day. His big blue eyes watched her intensely, as he did everything around him. She smiled as she thought of the baby’s introduction to their four year old mutt of a dog, Scout. William had stared wide-eyed at the dog, and then burst into a fit of giggles as the dog sniffled and licked his face.

“Look what I got,” her husband said as he entered the nursery, dressed in a white undershirt and boxers, carrying the handmade mobile. “Big buffalo.”

He proudly showed his wife and son the work he'd done, playfully jiggling the mobile in front of the baby. She laughed as the baby smiled at the dancing shapes. The mobile was then hung above the crib, as she gently put William down underneath the white buffaloes. She leaned over the crib, staring down in adoration at her new son, thanking God for sending such a blessing into their lives.

“Sweet dreams, baby boy,” her husband said as he leaned over behind her.

They both started to make their way out of the room, lingering at the doorway, before they turned the light off and left the nursery. A little while later, after she had finished cleaning the kitchen and was heading for the stairs, she looked over to see Scout had planted himself in the nursery doorway. She smiled, shaking her head as she began to climb the stairs to get ready for bed. Once she was inside her bedroom, her eyes fell on the diaper bag that had come along with William at the foot of her bed. She lifted it and set it on the edge of the mattress, determined to go through it. She’d already taken out all the clothing, pacifiers, and stuffed animals, and wanted to make sure nothing was left behind.

In an inside pocket, she found a plain white letter-sized envelope, addressed _“William.”_ Her heart started pounding, and she was unsure whether she should open it or not. She stared at the envelope in her hands, not knowing what to do with it.

“Martha?”

She turned and looked at her husband as he entered the bedroom, showing him the envelope. “Should we open it?”

He took it from her hand and stared at it, before looking up at her. “It’s not for us. It’s for the boy.”

She sighed, and nodded, before watching her husband take the envelope to his dresser, stashing it away in the top drawer. She still felt like they should be the ones to read it first, and find out what the information contained. It could either be helpful, or harmful. And they still hadn’t talked about what they would tell William as he got older. She supposed the discussion could wait. Soon they were sitting up in bed together. His mind kept wandering and he couldn’t focus on the article he was reading in the latest issue of _GRIT._

“Hon?” he said, staring in front of him, lost in thought.

She looked up from her knitting needles. “Yeah?”

“I think we should take over the Ferguson farm.”

Sighing, she merely nodded her head. She didn’t think they should have to be the ones to repair all the damage that fool Blue Ferguson had done to his family’s farm. But she also knew they owed a great deal to Old Ferguson, remembering how much he’d helped them when they were starting out. She knew her husband felt the same way, and that it would go completely against his character to withhold something good if it was in his power to do it.

“We’re gonna have to hire help around here,” she finally said after some moments of silence. “Two farms, and one that needs a lot of work. A new baby. We’ll need some help.”

He nodded. “I’ll go over and talk to Mrs. Ferguson tomorrow morning. Once it’s settled, we’ll advertise in the paper that we’re hiring.”

She glanced over at him, and then went back to knitting. After some minutes of comfortable silence, she looked up at him again. “Do you think everyone will think we’re ridiculous for getting a baby now?”

“Honey,” he said, chuckling. “I’m fairly certain that the whole county knows we’ve been trying for a baby for years.”

“They also think we stopped trying years ago,” she replied, sighing. “Isn’t a 40 year old woman with a baby ridiculous?” She remembered a phrase she’d heard many a time throughout the years: There’s nothing worse than being an old mother.

He smirked at her. “It’s kind of too late to start worrying about that now. Unless you wanna pack William up and send him back to the Catholic ladies? Come on, let’s go.” He put the magazine down. “You get him out of the crib and I’ll start the truck.”

She started laughing, shaking her head. “All right, I’m being silly.”

He smiled and leaned over, kissing her on the cheek. “Can you just enjoy being happy? You are happy, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” she replied, smiling.

“Good,” he said, and picked up the magazine again. “Me too.”

*****

On Sunday night, September 30th, she lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Scully was supposed to start back to work at Quantico the following day. She had a class in the morning and office duties in the afternoon. The FBI Academy’s graduation ceremony for special agents would be on the 31st, and a lot needed to be done in the following weeks. She didn’t know how she was going to get through it. She still hadn’t returned any of the many phone calls her brothers and sisters-in-law had made. She hadn’t set foot outside since she’d returned home from leaving William at St. John’s Church. Her mother hadn’t spoken to her since she’d angrily walked out of her apartment nearly three weeks ago.

Scully missed her son so much it physically hurt. The ache in her breasts was now gone, but she felt like she ached literally everywhere else. It was worse at night, laying down in an empty bedroom, knowing every room of her apartment was now empty, devoid of life and love. Some Catholic Charities volunteers had come and stripped the nursery of all its furniture and baby items. She felt thankful she hadn’t painted or wallpapered the walls with anything that screamed “BABY.” It was her guest room once again, neutral and blank. She bitterly wondered if a place deep inside her had known this day might come, and so chose the paint color accordingly.

She found herself daydreaming of abandoning her empty life, and leaving Washington behind. Maybe she’d relocate somewhere up in Maine, dye her hair, and change her name. Maybe use one of those fake passports the Lone Gunmen had made up for her. She’d find a small Podunk town with a population of only a couple hundred people, and move into a small one bedroom house. The town would have one doctor. She’d walk into his office on Main Street, amaze him with her medical knowledge, and he’d hire her on the spot. The townsfolk would come to her with their sprained ankles from the baseball game and arthritis from the damp weather. She’d probably deliver a baby or two on occasion. She might even have a brief affair with the carpenter who kept dropping by to tell her that her front door was squeaky and he could help her fix it. It’d be like living in fucking Mayberry.

Scully sighed, and rolled her eyes, irritated with herself.  Going back to work was probably a good thing, if just to keep those ridiculous thoughts at bay. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, knowing that her life would never be Mayberry. There would never be a simple existence. There would never be a meaningless fling with a handyman. She would never leave Washington. She would never get William back. She would go to work, becoming increasingly dissatisfied and uninterested. She would go home to her apartment in Georgetown every night. She would barely eat dinner. She would sit on her couch and watch television without knowing what was on the screen. She would go to bed, where she would barely sleep. She would faithfully wait for Mulder to come home, knowing he never would. And if Mulder ever did come home, he wouldn’t forgive her. Her life would simply be a never-ending line, going nowhere.

Closing her eyes, Scully tucked the comforter more closely to her, wishing it was Mulder’s arms instead, wrapping her in a tight embrace. As she finally drifted to sleep, she thought she could almost hear his voice, telling her that everything would be okay, that they would be together soon, and that they would make things right again. She wanted so badly to believe those comforting words, and as she finally succumbed to sleep, the sound of Mulder’s soothing voice resonated inside her head.

Late on Wednesday afternoon, October 31st, she returned home from Quantico, closing her apartment door behind her and locking it. Scully had had a typically long, but not particularly memorable day, and sighed as she made her way into the kitchen. The FBI Academy graduation for special agents had been that morning, and she’d spent the afternoon performing an autopsy for Agents Cole and Brewer, who were bogged down with a grueling murder case. She had no real interest in her job anymore, but the idea of changing anything else about her life made her feel panicked. So each morning she settled into what had now become the unfulfilling monotony of Quantico. And now Scully was home, and had hours of quiet ahead of her, just sitting alone with her suffocating thoughts.

She opened the refrigerator, sighed, and then closed it. After walking into her bedroom and changing into a pair of light blue satin pajamas, pulling on her robe, Scully walked back out to her living room. She noticed the red flashing light on the answering machine, and crossed the room to the desk by the window, pressing the ‘play’ button on the machine.

“Hello, Dana. It’s your mother. Just wanted to let you know that I’ll be in San Diego for a few weeks to visit Bill and Tara and the kids, so there won’t be a Thanksgiving at the house again this year.” There was then a slight pause in the recording. “I, um…” She sighed. “I hope you’re taking care of yourself. I’ll call you when I get back.”

Scully pursed her lips and walked over to the fish tank, sprinkling some flakes into the water as the voice of Agent Sam Cole filled the room.

“Hi, uh, Agent Scully. It was good to see you again today. It’s, uh, not the same around headquarters without seeing you in the halls.” He cleared his throat. “But, um, I’m not sure if you remember this, but I had asked you out for dinner about a year ago. Or longer, maybe. It hadn’t been a good time then, but I was hoping that maybe you might take me up on my offer now. It, uh, it still stands. I’d love to take you out. Just, uh, give me a call.”

She heaved a sigh and sat down on the couch, reaching for the television remote and rolling her eyes. The third and final message then played, and Charlie’s voice could then be heard.

“Hey, sis. So I’m hoping that Mom told you she was leaving for San Diego in the morning. She won’t be back till after Christmas, I guess. I know it’s everyone-goes-to-Bill’s-house-for-Christmas this year, but Jennifer said that you probably wouldn’t go. Anyways, the reason I’m calling is that we’re gonna do Thanksgiving dinner at our house. Please come. We miss you. The boys miss you and ask about you all the time. Or, you know, we’ll bring Thanksgiving to your place. Whichever. Just call me back, please? Okay, love ya.”

Scully looked over at the machine, and considered calling him back. But the thought of speaking to her brother caused a lump to grow in her throat. She’d love to see him, and Jennifer, and their boys, but she just couldn’t be around anyone right now. She was living life one day at a time, refusing to think about the future, trying so hard not to think about the past. Charlie and Jennifer would only want to talk about William and her reasons and her feelings. She just couldn’t. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She didn’t want to see anyone.

Except, that wasn’t true. She desperately wanted to talk to Mulder, and needed to see him. She now avoided crowds, and even looking out her apartment windows, afraid of that desperate, crazed feeling she’d get whenever a tall man with brown hair and broad shoulders appeared in her line of sight. But the guilt still remained, and the dread, and the idea of seeing Mulder, of speaking to him, of explaining why William was no longer there, knotted her stomach so fiercely she’d have to fight the urge to vomit. Despite this, she wanted him with her. Mulder had been gone for nearly 10 months, and there seemed no end to the dull, lonely span of time that hopelessly laid in front of her.

*****

On Friday morning, November 23rd, he sat behind the steering wheel of the navy blue 1994 Chevy 1500 he’d bought last month from Samuel Etsicitty down at Repair Boys auto shop in downtown Kayenta. Tired of always asking Valerie for rides or to borrow her truck, Mulder forked over $5,000 for the used Chevy with the ‘For Sale’ sign that he’d seen sitting in the lot next to the shop. He was now driving west on Route 160 with Gibson and Valerie sitting in the cab beside him. They’d traveled to Michael Hosteen’s home in Shiprock, New Mexico for the Thanksgiving holiday the day before, and were now heading back to Arizona.

An hour and 40 minutes after departing Shiprock, Mulder was driving through Kayenta and soon came to a park outside the post office. He now subscribed to 30 different magazines and newspapers, and had gotten a P.O. box just to collect them all. Mulder slid out of the truck and walked around to the curb, before making his way inside the building. Upon opening his box, he pulled out the new December issues of _Fortean Times, Journal of Scientific Exploration, Paranormal Review, UFO Magazine, Fate, PARANOIA: The Conspiracy Reader,_ and the _Skeptical Inquirer_. Along with the magazines, there were also Friday editions of daily newspapers from around the country. Grabbing the lot and shoving it into his arms, closing the box with his elbow, he then quickly walked back out to the truck.

Once he’d dropped Valerie off at her trailer, he and Gibson returned home to the one they shared. Unlocking the front door and stepping inside, Mulder went right over to the make-shift office he’d created for himself against the right-side wall. The couch had been moved forward, closer to the television, and a desk had been purchased and set against the wall as well as a computer. The wall, which had once been a blank white, was now covered with an array of clippings from newspapers and magazines as well as articles and pictures printed off the Internet. Every clipping and every photograph was tied to UFO sightings, abductions, and government conspiracies. Sitting down at the desk, Mulder began to read through his pile of mail.

An article in the _Fortean Times,_ entitled “Flying Saucery,” recounted strange events occurring back in September. Alien abductees had been taken from all over the country earlier in the summer, from usual UFO hot spots, including Oregon, Montana, North Dakota, and Wisconsin, but strangely they had not been returned. Instead, many of those abductees had been found months later on Skyland Mountain in Virginia, their mutilated bodies hidden among the trees and far from any of the tourist attractions. The abductees had been found alive and were then transported to Blue Ridge Community Hospital in Roanoke, where they hadn’t been expected to survive.

Their families were notified, and they soon traveled from their home states to Virginia. Almost as if overnight, every victim miraculously recovered, all signs of their abuse vanishing. The article quoted various loved ones of the victims, all claiming absolute shock over the recovery. They were also shocked when their loved ones completely disappeared from the hospital, and hadn’t been seen since or heard from since. Those same exact events occurred when abductees turned up in Pennsylvania, in the woods near Ruskin Dam, and in North Carolina, at the Linn Cove Viaduct, these too also happening back in September. The writers of the article had no real theory as to why these events were unfolding in this way, and could only state an educated guess: invasion.

Mulder stared at the page, his stomach knotting. Abductions and alien replicant transformations had started up again, having heard nothing about this continuing in the months after he himself was restored to perfect health after his own abduction. It also seemed that the abductions were happening in much larger groups, many people taken at the same time from various areas around the country. He didn’t like the idea of there being more of those Billy Miles bastards out there in the world.

His thoughts then fell on Scully, the article momentarily forgotten, and her ordeal when giving birth, these human replacements converging on that small deserted town in northern Georgia to watch his son being born. The words ‘Skyland Mountain’ reached out from the page like a sucker punch to the gut. Mulder keenly remembered his despair when he reached the top of that mountain, finding Scully gone, taken. Horrid memories of losing his sister came to mind, a sense of déjà vu overwhelming him as he’d stood at the top of Skyland Mountain, until Mulder realized that losing Scully came with a completely different kind of pain, an ache that throbbed beneath his ribs.

Reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, Mulder then pulled out the folded pictures of William and Scully. He gazed down at his son and the boy’s mother, his family. She rarely ever asked him directly for help, and he knew it took a lot of effort on her part to ask for something she’d so badly wanted. Of course he’d agreed, released his life into a plastic cup, and told her to hope, despite his own doubts and fears. He told her to believe in miracles. She then took him by the hand, and he experienced the wonderful relief that came with finally holding her, kissing her, touching her, their hips arching with desperate need.

In a hospital waiting room, Mulder had seen the genetic test report Scully had had done on William. Even now, the words “Mulder, Fox W.    Probability of Paternity = 99.99%” were burned across his brain, as though he’d been permanently marked with a cattle brand. In her dimly lit hospital room, he’d reached out and caressed her swollen belly for the first time, and he felt the life of his son make contact with his warm hand.

In a Georgia town in the middle of nowhere, he’d lifted Scully and their son from an old bed, and carried them in his arms to the waiting helicopter. He’d held her hand as he sat at her hospital bedside, staring at the door, needing to protect her and his hours-old son asleep in the bassinet. He’d sat on Scully’s couch and held William in his arms, speaking to him about the Knicks while the boy gripped his finger tight, his big blue eyes staring fixedly up at him.

No matter how many nights he spent alone, mornings he woke up all alone, nothing could take those memories away from Mulder. Their physical connection was severed, and the pain this caused was a constant physical ache. Oftentimes, he found it hard to remember exactly what it felt like to touch her, to press his lips against hers. But the more he dreamt of her, the more he felt their emotional connection become stable and secure. And the more determined he became to find a way home, to search for the answer, the key, that would release him from this exile and reunite him with the ones he loved. The more determined he became to do whatever it took to be with them again.

*****

In the late afternoon of Monday, December 24th, Christmas Eve, Scully packed up her wrapped gifts, placed them in the back seat of her Ford sedan, and took the hour’s drive northeast to Baltimore, Maryland. Upon arriving at Charlie and Jennifer’s two-story brick row house on Ellerslie Avenue, she hugged her nephews and placed her gifts under the tree. She hadn’t seen them for Thanksgiving, having been still unable to bring herself to leave her apartment for anything other than work or the occasional necessary trip to the grocery story. But 12 year old Jack had called her up two weeks earlier, asking to see her for Christmas, and she couldn’t refuse him.

Her mother was still in San Diego with Bill and Tara and their kids, and wasn’t expected back until Wednesday evening. Maggie had left an occasional message on Scully’s answering machine since she’d been gone, always calling while Scully was at work. Thankfully, each message became decreasingly clipped. The last one she’d received from her mother, just the day before, was actually rather pleasant. Scully wondered if time spent with Tara and the kids was helping her become more sympathetic to the difficult situation she’d had with raising a child alone, particularly a child like William. She wondered if her mother would call her later tonight, or tomorrow, wondered if she’d actually call when Scully would be there to pick up the phone.

She sat with her brother and sister-in-law, nephews and niece, around the dinner table. Jack and Ben sat on either side of Scully, and squeezed her hands extra hard when Charlie finished saying Grace over their Christmas dinner. Charlie then sliced the baked ham while Jennifer dished up the sides. Scully didn’t contribute much to the conversation around the table, but she did her best to smile and laugh at the stories the kids told, and to show a genuine interest in her brother and sister-in-law.

Scully really had missed them. But soon being with them, surrounded by this happy couple with their happy and healthy children, proved to be too much. She dwelled on the fact that she would never have a Christmas with William, as this would’ve been their first together. She would never have a family of her own. She had no idea why she’d ever entertained the idea that it was even achievable. At 9:30 pm, when Charlie and Jennifer started getting their kids ready to attend Midnight Mass at SS. Philip & James Church, Scully excused herself, saying she really wanted to get home.

At midnight, she found herself sitting in her living room, trying to find something on the television that wouldn't cause her eyes to well up with tears. It was proving to be a difficult task. Eventually she drifted off to sleep on the couch, wondering where Mulder was and what he was doing, wondering if he was thinking of her, and if he would ever come home.

*****

Gibson was spending Christmas Eve over at the Clouds’ trailer, no doubt feasting and merrymaking with his friend Cody, while Mulder sat at his desk, scanning the MUFON message boards. He glanced up at the wall in front of him, covered in newspaper clippings and magazine articles. His gaze fell on the pictures he’d printed out from Scully’s emails that he’d also tacked to the wall. He smiled, and imagined them sitting around the Christmas tree at Mrs. Scully’s house. Mulder wished he could be there with them.

Glancing at his watch, seeing it was almost 8:00 pm, he sighed and stood up from the desk, walking into his bedroom, where he grabbed his black leather jacket and car keys. Shutting and locking the trailer door behind him, Mulder was soon in the truck and heading for the bar. Once he parked his car on the curb in front of the video rental store, he made his way inside the basement establishment. The place was packed already. Music from the jukebox filled the room. Men and women stood around the two pool tables. More had crammed themselves around the bar. Instead of the regular white Christmas lights that were normally strung up around the bar area and along the ceiling, they’d been replaced with red and green ones, giving the room a strange glow.

Mulder made his way to the bar, walking around the side, where he pressed his fingers on the latch and opened the Dutch door, stepping behind the counter. There Valerie Hosteen stood, dressed in her usual work attire.

“Hey!” she said, greeting him with a big smile. “It’s about time you showed up. I told you it gets crazy busy here on Christmas Eve. I almost thought you’d backed out.”

“I’m here, I’m here,” Mulder replied, raising his hands as if in surrender. “I told you I’d help you. So here I am. Ready to help.”

Valerie smirked at his dry, disinterested tone as he removed the leather jacket and folded it, placing it on a shelf under the counter. His charcoal gray t-shirt clung to his torso. He’d been running a lot lately and shooting hoops at the community center. It had obviously been paying off. Mulder felt eyes on him and looked over at her. She blushed, chewing her bottom lip, and turned away to take someone’s drink order. He then stepped up to the counter, and started working.

At 9:00 pm, after an hour of serving drinks and watching customers wander in and out of the blue door room, making phone calls to loved ones, Mulder sighed. He wanted nothing more than speak to his loved ones, and fervently wished he was in Washington with Scully instead of this hole in the wall. Valerie then asked him to go around the room and see if anyone needed their beer pitchers refilled.

Mulder did as told, and maneuvered around the room, going from table to table. He passed the blue door and then he stood in front of the jukebox, pausing, and started pressing the buttons to flip through the album titles. Something caught his eye, and he pressed the button to bring it back. It was Fleetwood Mac’s _Greatest Hits._ He recalled something Scully had told him about years ago, of obsessively listening to them as a teenager in the late 1970’s. He knew she still loved them. He put some coins in the jukebox and selected a song. Smiling, he returned to the bar.


	117. “Nothing else matters to me, and this is as close as I've ever gotten to it.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder receives a suspicious message. Scully and her mother discuss her decision about William. She then gets involved with an X-Files case promising to deliver concrete proof of the paranormal. Eventually the mysterious messages compel Mulder to relocate, but one might lead to the answers he desperately needs.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialog from the episode "Sunshine Days" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Vince Gilligan, and belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Journey - "Wheel in the Sky"
> 
> Winter is here again, oh Lord  
> Haven't been home in a year or more  
> I hope she holds on a little longer  
> Sent a letter on a long summer day  
> Made of silver, not of clay  
> I've been runnin' down this dusty road
> 
> Wheel in the sky keeps on turnin'  
> I don't know where I'll be tomorrow  
> Wheel in the sky keeps on turnin'
> 
> I've been trying to make it home  
> Got to make it before too long  
> I can't take this very much longer  
> I'm stranded in the sleet and rain  
> Don't think I'm ever gonna make it home again  
> The mornin' sun is risin'  
> It's kissing the day
> 
> Wheel in the sky keeps on turnin'  
> I don't know where I'll be tomorrow  
> Wheel in the sky keeps on turnin'
> 
> Wheel in the sky keeps on turnin'  
> I don't know where I'll be tomorrow  
> Wheel in the sky keeps on turnin'

At 12:45 am, Valerie announced “last call” while Mulder started removing dirty glasses from the counter and placing them in a plastic bin on a shelf below. He looked up and stared at the round clock on the wall. It was officially Christmas Day. He sighed and remembered what he’d been doing at this time, just a year earlier, remembered sitting on the couch with a very pregnant Scully. He'd been so happy then. He reached into his front jeans pocket and pulled out the sterling silver Zippo lighter, engraved with his dad’s initials.

“Could you spare a light?”

Mulder looked up to see a tall, slender blonde standing in front of him, in a tight red sweater, holding a cigarette between her fingers. He recognized her, being one of the few non Navajos who lived in town, but he didn’t know her name. He guessed she was about 35 years of age, give or take a few.

“Sure,” he said, and flipped open the lighter, clicking the flame.

She leaned over, lighting her cigarette, before taking a puff. “You know…,” she said, her voice turning into a purr, her red painted lips curving into a suggestive smirk. “I’ve been standing back there in the corner, watching you all night.”

“So why don’t you go back there and keep watching,” Mulder deadpanned, before turning away from her and grabbing a clean rag off the shelf against the wall.

The woman’s eyes widened, and then quickly narrowed with a steely glint. She walked away as he started wiping down the bar counter.

Valerie walked over, watching the muscles in his arm contract as he swept the rag over the shiny surface. “You’re such a charmer. I bet you got a lot of dates back home.”

Mulder paused what he was doing, and looked over at her. She was teasing him, a mischievous look in her chestnut brown eyes. He took in her white short shorts and the tight white tank top, leaving very little to the imagination, briefly gazed around at the drunks heading for the exit, and shook his head, sighing.

“What?” she asked, her brows knitting. “I sense your disapproval.”

“What the hell are you doing here, anyway?” he demanded as he once again started wiping down the bar counter. “Shouldn’t you be doing something with your life? Don’t you want to achieve something? Goals you might have? A career, maybe?”

She threw him a sarcastic look. “Yeah, ‘cause I can see a career worked out so well for you. Maybe I should join the FBI.”

He gave her a blank, unamused stare, and then resumed wiping down the bar.

Valerie sighed. “Mulder, come on. It was a joke.”

“You deserve better than working in this dump,” he said.

“Hey! This place _was_ a dump before I took it over. It’s pretty decent now.”

Mulder stared at her. “So you’re just going to work here for the rest of your life?”

She heaved a sigh, turning to walk away from him. “Jesus Christ, you sound like my father.”

“Is that why you don’t live in New Mexico?” he asked. He’d learned something about the Navajo in his time there: families stayed together. It was typical for several generations to either live in the same home or on adjacent properties. It was normally unheard of for parents to live in different towns, and not to mention states, than their children.

“I stayed until my mother died, and then I had to get out,” she replied, her back to him. “My father… um, we don’t see eye to eye.” That was all she said on the subject, and then walked down to the other end of the bar.

At 1:30 am, all patrons had departed, chairs were turned upside down on the tables, pool cues were up on the wall, the liquor was locked away in the room behind the blue door, and if not for the pervading odor of cigarette smoke, the place would’ve smelled clean. Mulder grabbed his black leather jacket from the shelf under the bar counter, and walked outside with Valerie and Tim Yazzie. After saying goodbye to Tim, Mulder walked Valerie over to her truck.

She went to unlock the driver’s side door, but turned around and crossed her arms, hugging her purple wool jacket. “Thanks for helping me tonight,” she said in a quiet voice.

Mulder gave her a small smile, and nodded, giving her a casual shrug. “It was nothing, really. It gave me something to do.”

She licked her lips, nodding, and hugged her jacket tighter. “Do you, uh… I mean, would you, um, want to… come home with me tonight?”

“Valerie,” he said, sighing and lowering his head, closing his eyes.

“Right, right,” she replied, rolling her eyes and then turning them away from him. “You’re… uh, saving yourself, or something.”

He sighed and raised his head to look at her, before taking a couple steps closer. Valerie immediately stepped backwards, until she was up against the truck door, and Mulder stopped moving. Silence hung between them. She felt her defenses rising, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

Mulder quietly looked at her until she finally returned her gaze to his face. “There was a time in my life when I would’ve gladly taken you up on every offer you’ve ever made me. That’s just not possible now. But I would like to be your friend.” He sighed. “Someone once said to me, ‘To be a man is to have the heart of a man. Integrity, decency… these are the things that make a man a man.’”

Valerie averted her eyes, and stared down at her hands, now fingering the keys to her truck. “Sometimes I wish you’d just stayed home, and never come here,” she whispered. She then turned abruptly and opened the truck door, getting into the driver’s seat and slamming the door shut.

Mulder stood and watched her drive off. “Me too.”

As he turned and started walking towards his Chevy, a Native American man suddenly appeared out of nowhere, approaching him in the darkness. Spinning around, Mulder stared at him. The Native American man stared back at him, saying nothing. He had never seen him before, and Mulder had no idea who he was. His heart started pounding, and he wondered if this person standing in front of him was human.

“What do you want?” demanded Mulder, growing increasingly more nervous.

The man studied him for a moment, and then silently reached out his hand, revealing a small piece of paper. “I bring message for you. A wise man has come to the ruins. He has sent me to deliver this message.”

“Who is this man?” Mulder asked. “And where is he?”

“Just a wise man, with many answers to many questions,” replied the Native American. “That is all I can tell you.”

Mulder watched the man turn and walk away, disappearing into the darkness. Quickly getting into his truck and locking the doors, he clicked on the overhead light and gazed down at the folded note he’d been given, opening it.

“You have lost something of incredible value. It is now time for you to know the truth. I am the Keeper of It.”

He stared at the words, confused. Who could possibly have known he was there, in this tiny town of Kayenta? Had word spread outside the reservation? Had he been tracked down by the government? Had they finally learned where he was? This could be a trap. They could be trying to smoke him out again.

That night Mulder laid awake, often getting out of bed and pacing the trailer, fearful that they would come for him, fearful that harm might come to the people of the town, his neighbors who had been so good to him, and fearful that harm would also come to Gibson. Mulder felt depression taking hold, as bitter warnings that he was a danger to everyone around him filled his head, cruelly reminding him that he could never go home again.

*****

On Wednesday evening, December 26th, Scully was at Washington Dulles International Airport to greet her mother as she arrived back home from San Diego. Maggie collected her luggage from the baggage claim, and walked towards the Arrivals doors to find her daughter there waiting for her. At the sight of her mom, Scully’s face crumpled and her eyes filled with tears. Maggie walked over to her, and sighing as she set her suitcase down, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her daughter. Scully cried, saying “I’m sorry” over and over.

“It’ll be okay,” said Maggie, her voice becoming thick with emotion.

Scully nodded and wiped her tears, before picking up her mother’s suitcase and turning for the automatic doors. After they got into Scully’s car, the drive to Maggie’s house in Alexandria was a quiet one. Once they’d arrived and Maggie had taken her suitcase upstairs to her bedroom, she joined Scully in the kitchen. She then put the tea kettle on the stove to boil, and soon after mother and daughter were sitting at the circular kitchen table with steaming mugs of herbal tea.

“How are Bill and Tara doing?” Scully asked. “And the kids?”

“They’re all doing well,” replied Maggie.

She took another sip of her tea, and looked at her mother for a moment. “So… what do they have to say about... what happened?”

Maggie sighed. “Well, you’d know if you’d just return any of their phone calls.” She sighed again. “Bill Jr blames Fox. For a while, I thought he’d never stop raging. He eventually stopped talking about it altogether. And Tara…” Another sigh. “Tara is a mother. She can’t understand the choice you’ve made. But she’s hurting for you, honey. I think she cried every day the first week I was there.”

“I don’t expect her to understand, Mom,” said Scully, tears pricking her eyes.

“Frankly, Dana, none of us can understand,” Maggie retorted. “If caring for William was too much for you, why didn’t you ask for help? Why not send him to Bill and Tara? Or Charles and Jennifer? Family is who should be caring for him. Not strangers.”

Sighing, she closed her eyes and shook her head, before looking intently at her mother. “That’s the first place they would go looking for him, Mom. Maybe you don’t fully understand the real danger this would put them in. Do you think I want to risk the lives of my brothers and their families? It is better for William to be somewhere safe, somewhere he won’t be found. What kind of a mother could I have been? He’d be in danger every day of his life.”

Maggie eyed her daughter. “You’re the best mother possible for him, _especially_ him. There are no two people better prepared to teach William how to face life than you and Fox. No other parents would be able to equip him with the knowledge and strength needed to fight the monsters of this world, in… whatever form they take. You and Fox never run away. You never give up. You’re relentless and tenacious. You’re fighters. William is a special little boy. And he will need those qualities to get through this life, qualities that you and Fox particularly have. What better parents could William have?”

“Yeah, well… Mulder isn’t here, Mom.” She felt the lump growing in her throat, the tears welling up. “We’re only as strong as we are together. When we’re separated… nothing good ever comes of it, that much has been made clear.”

 _“Why_ did you give up, Dana?” Maggie demanded quietly. "Why didn't you just wait for Fox?"

The tears were now threatening to brim over. “Mom…,” she said quietly, her voice breaking. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe Mulder and I, together, could have been what was best for William. We look into the darkness, and we don’t run from it. We fight, and we keep fighting. But we chose to take those risks. We chose to fight because we had each other, and we were fighting together. Those were choices we made, knowing the risks we were taking. Our son didn’t choose this life. If there’s something we’ve learned, it’s that everything has a cost. And sometimes the cost is just too high. We’ve already lost too much, and I refuse to allow William to pay the cost for the choices we’ve made. I have to protect him, Mom, and I’m protecting him the only way I can.”

The two sat in silence for some seconds. Maggie’s chin quivered and tears filled her eyes. She reached across the table and squeezed her daughter’s hand. After she swallowed the last of her tea, she sighed and stood up, grabbing their mugs from the table. “If only Fox had been here. This never would’ve happened. If only he'd come home. We'd still have William.”

Scully watched her mother walk over to the kitchen sink, wondering just how much of Bill Jr’s raging her mother had listened to.

*****

On Thursday morning, January 10th, Scully sat in her office at the Quantico Lab inside the FBI Academy building. Her classes had ended back in October. Most autopsies were performed by the other pathologists, and she was normally only called in for consultations on findings, to supervise complicated forensic investigations, or to perform the autopsy if the victim had met a rather unusual end. Those victims typically came by via Agents Doggett and Reyes. Scully often just wanted to tell them “No,” and to call one of the other pathologists.

Normally, she screened her calls. And normally Scully tried not to answer if Doggett or Monica were calling her during work hours. She wanted to distance herself from the X-Files. It only gave her painful reminders of everything she’d lost because of them. Looking into the darkness had cost Scully her son, and she’d lost Mulder, many times it seemed now. Often while sitting at her desk, her cell phone would ring, she’d see Doggett’s name appear, her self-preservation would rise up, and she’d just let the call go to voicemail.

Today, however, was different. A year ago today Mulder had walked out her door. William’s first birthday had been nine days ago. He was probably starting to walk now; a sight neither her or Mulder would ever see. Scully sat at her desk, with nothing currently to work on, memories and disappointments and crushed hopes running around and around in her mind. She chewed her bottom lip, desperately trying to keep it together, wanting to forget, just for a minute, the state her life was in.

Her cell phone started ringing and she answered it immediately. “Scully.”

“Hi, Agent Scully, it’s John Doggett.”

“Hi, John.”

“Listen, uh, me and Monica, we’re out in California right now, and we got a dead body on our hands. Would you be able to perform the autopsy?”

“Yeah,” said Scully without hesitation. “I’ve got nothing else on my schedule right now.”

Doggett breathed a sigh of relief into the phone. “Good. Because we already put the body on a plane early this morning. Should be there this afternoon.”

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, she suppressed a smirk. His presumptuousness only reminded her of Mulder. “All right. I’ll get the results back to you as soon as I’m finished.”

Doggett thanked her and then hung up. At 2:00 pm, Scully was examining the victim in one of Quantico’s autopsy bays, using a voice recorder to document her findings.

“Case number 1-4- dash-3-0-8, Blake McCormick,” she spoke into the microphone. “A well-nourished Caucasian male, 24 years old. I will begin with my external examination.” She walked around the body, noticing a large amount of gray material stuck in the victim’s head. “And here is a likely place to start.”

Suddenly, she heard a rattling noise and walked over to her instrument tray. One of her sterile scalpels was rattling around in the tray, apparently all on its own. She reached out and touched it, getting a small electrical shock.

“Ahh!” Scully jumped, quickly breaking contact with the scalpel. The rattling then stopped. She stared at the scalpel, dumbfounded.

Two hours later, she video conferenced her strange findings with Doggett and Monica, who were still out in California. They couldn’t come to any logical conclusion. The following morning, Scully boarded a plane for Los Angeles. Escaping the dreary, gray winter for the California sunshine had seemed very appealing. But getting out of Washington for the first time since she could remember provided both a tremendous relief, but also a nervous anxiety. What if, while she was gone, Mulder finally showed up? What if she missed her chance to see him, speak to him, touch him? She chided herself, remembering Bill Jr’s words about foolishly putting her life on hold, thinking Mulder could just walk back through the door any minute. She had to put some semblance of her life back together, but most of the time she felt she was barely keeping her head above the water.

Her stay in California was very brief, despite making an amazing discovery, and the very next afternoon she was back in DC. After arriving, she found herself in Skinner’s office along with Agents Doggett and Reyes, parapsychologist Dr. John Reits, scientist Dr. Henry Jacocks, and a "psychokinetic Mozart” named Anthony Fogelman. Anthony had displayed tremendous abilities, and talk of the Nobel Prize and changing physics textbooks soon abounded. Even Skinner could barely contain his excitement, claiming Fogelman was the proof of the paranormal they needed to ensure the X-Files could never be shut down.

But it was all for naught. Anthony’s incredible abilities, which only seemed to manifest themselves because he was deeply unhappy, were physically killing him. In Doggett’s mind, there was only one right thing to do: choose happiness. Scully agreed.

“So close, Dana,” said Doggett, while they stood in a hallway inside Washington National Hospital. He’d wanted her to win. He’d wanted her to achieve something she’d worked so hard for. “I'm sorry you don't get your proof.”

“Me too,” Scully replied. “Well, maybe I've had it these past nine years. If not proof of the paranormal, then… of more important things.”

She gazed at Anthony and Dr. Reits sitting happily together inside the hospital room, before walking away down the corridor. Scully had thought she wanted incontrovertible proof, some kind of validation and vindication for Mulder, something that showed his life’s work hadn’t been in vain, and in turn her own work with him as well as the work being done by Agents Doggett and Reyes. But at the end of the day, that wasn’t what was most important in life. That wasn't what truly mattered.

The truth that Mulder had fought so hard to find, and thereby Scully as well, was elusive, and most likely could never really be attained. Maybe it just wasn’t meant for them to find, or anyone for that matter. It was an impossible feat. Scully and Mulder would never be able to rein in the unseen mysteries of the universe, either through science or extreme possibilities. But there was a much larger truth out there, a greater truth, and this was the truth they had found: each other. They’d each found their perfect other, that one human being who would become a mirror, a reflection revealing everything that had been holding them back, making them aware of their doubts and fears and weaknesses, breaking their hearts open and setting them free, completely changing their lives.

The greatest truth could never be found through supernatural means, or through science. Scully knew that all along she and Mulder always had the power to discover this truth. Love was the greatest truth anyone could ever hope to find. And in the end, they had. Their son had been their greatest validation, their greatest vindication. William was the physical manifestation, the proof, of the love Scully and Mulder had for each other. That's all that truly mattered. Perhaps that was all they had been meant to achieve. He was their greatest achievement. Nothing would ever change that.

*****

Late on Wednesday afternoon, January 2nd, Gibson was walking down the gravel road from his friend Cody’s place, heading for home, when he saw Valerie walking towards him from the other direction. She carried a round white laundry basket on her hip and her two dogs were walking obediently at her heels. She caught sight of him and smiled. Gibson felt butterflies fill his stomach, and he grinned back at her.

“Hi,” Valerie said warmly as she got closer.

“Hey,” Gibson greeted her.

She smirked, a teasing glint flashing in her eyes. “How are ya? Still enjoying vacation? I haven’t seen you since Christmas. Too busy to come hang out, huh?”

“I’m good. Yeah, Cody’s dad has been teaching us how to drive.”

Valerie smiled. “You’ve got a birthday coming up, right? Sixteen. That’s exciting.”

He nodded, grinning. “I wanna get my driver’s permit.”

“I bet,” she replied, chuckling. “So… uh, how’s Mulder? I haven’t seen him the past few days. Has he been around?”

Gibson sighed. “I haven’t seen much of him either. He’s been wanting to be alone.”

Valerie slowly nodded her head. “Um… why?”

“His son’s birthday was yesterday,” he answered. “I don’t think Mulder wanted to be around me very much. He didn’t, you know..”

“Want you listening to his every thought?” she offered, giving him a small smile.

He snorted. “Something like that, yeah.”

She considered him a moment. “Have you always been able to do that? Or is it because something happened to you?”

“Something happened?” asked Gibson, chuckling.

“Yeah, like… you were hit by lightning or you got a brain tumor or something,” she said, smirking.

He laughed. “I’ve had this as long as I can remember. And no, nothing like that has ever _happened_ to me.”

Valerie smiled. “Do you know why… you can do… what you do?”

Gibson shrugged his shoulders. “Agent Scully believes it’s my DNA. Everyone has it, except for most people it’s turned off and serves no purpose. She also thinks it’s alien. She’s never said any of that to me, but I know that’s what she thinks.”

She gave him a blank stare, and then rolled her eyes. “She sounds just as crazy as Mulder.”

“She’s really not,” he said, and then sighed. “You’d like her.”

“Hmm,” she replied, before swallowing and averting her eyes. “Well, I should go put my clean laundry away. It was nice running into you. Come by sometime and I’ll cook you some food. We'll watch a movie or something. Bring Cody, too, if you want.”

He chuckled. “All right, I will.”

Gibson stared after Valerie, whose thoughts dwelt on Mulder, and then he sighed, turning to resume his walk back to the trailer. Once he stepped onto the porch, he knew his friend was inside, and upon opening the front door, he was greeted with the sight of Mulder sitting at the desk in front of the computer.

Mulder turned and looked at Gibson, saying a quick hello, and then returned to the computer screen. More abductees had disappeared, this time from all over the New England states. They hadn’t been seen or heard from in several weeks. The MUFON groups in those areas were currently busy alerting MUFON chapters in other states to look out for any strange occurrences similar to the happenings around Skyland Mountain back in September.

“Are you hungry?” asked Gibson as he crossed the living room, heading for the kitchen.

“I’ll eat later,” Mulder quickly replied, not looking away from the screen.

The teenage boy shook his head, and made his way over to the refrigerator. As he stared at the contents of the fridge, trying to decide what to eat, he suddenly heard another voice, different from the obsessive one in the living room. There was then a sharp knock on the front door.

Mulder turned from the computer and stared at it, before looking back at Gibson who slowly made his way out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know,” Gibson replied. “The thoughts aren’t in English.” He concentrated. “They… they’re not Navajo either. Definitely not Spanish. I don’t know what it is.”

He stared at the door, his stomach knotting. “It is human?”

Gibson nodded. “Yeah. It’s… kind of like Navajo. But it’s also completely different. I can’t understand it.”

Mulder breathed a small sigh of relief, and then headed towards the door just as another knock sounded out. He opened the front door to see the same Native American man who’d approached him outside the bar on Christmas Eve. Mulder’s stomach knotted.

“I bring another message,” the man said, handing over a folded piece of paper. He then turned and walked across the porch, down the concrete steps, and into the yard, quickly disappearing from sight.

Looking down at the note in his hand, Mulder swallowed. He shut the front door and locked it, and stared down at the piece of paper again.

Gibson stood silent, concentrating on Mulder’s thoughts. “How would that man know where we live? He isn’t Navajo. You can tell just by looking at him. The clothes he was wearing, the way his hair was braided. It was different. He’s not from around here. How would he know you’re here? And in this trailer?”

Mulder sighed. “I don’t know. He must’ve found out somehow. He could’ve asked literally anyone in town.” But he still worried, wondering if remaining in the same exact place for such a long period of time had been a stupid idea.

“Yeah, probably,” Gibson replied to his friend’s silent misgivings.

Throwing his young friend a sarcastic look, Mulder returned his attention to the note and opened it.

“The time is coming. Forces are mobilizing. And I know the truth. A truth that you do not. But I have the answers and the key you need. You just have to come for them. For I am the Truth Keeper.”

Gibson’s brows knitted, hearing the words of the note through his friend’s thoughts. “They must know you’re here. This is dangerous.”

Mulder sighed, and wondered if they were trying to get him away from Navajo land, if those so-called Super Soldiers or alien replicants now feared the place. It could very well be a trap. But how long would they hold out? How long until the government sent lethal forces into the town? He was putting everyone at risk.

“We should move,” Gibson concluded, starting to seriously worry. “We should go somewhere else.”

“What do you mean, ‘we?’” asked Mulder, staring at him. “You have school. And… driving lessons. And friends. And… a life. You have a life here.”

Gibson gave him a determined look. “I’m going wherever you’re going. You need my protection. Who else is gonna tell you if someone is human or not?”

He sighed and shook his head, watching Gibson walk to the front door, opening it and stepping onto the porch.

“Where are you going?” Mulder asked.

“To see Valerie,” the boy replied, and then disappeared behind the door.

*****

On Thursday morning, January 10th, a year to the day Mulder had walked out Scully’s apartment door, he found himself sitting in a secluded mobile home in Weed Hope, New Mexico with Gibson Praise. This had been the place Valerie and her younger brother Eric would come with their parents for camping weekends when they were kids. The closest town was Shiprock, where Michael and Eric Hosteen resided, but that was 10 miles away. When Mulder stood in front of the trailer, there was only desert as far as the eye could see. He had no neighbors, no other human being lived in the surrounding area by several miles.

He’d made up another makeshift office with all his newspaper and magazine clippings, but there was no internet service out in the middle of nowhere. They didn’t even have electricity, just a power generator and some extra batteries. Mulder could see himself going stir crazy. He thought he might’ve been making some progress with the information he was learning, but now he felt cut off from everything and everyone. How could he find any answers? How could he get back home? These questions consumed him day in and day out.

On Tuesday afternoon, January 22nd, Eric Hosteen arrived at the secluded trailer along with some friends, pulling up alongside Mulder’s navy blue Chevy truck.

“They have something for you,” Gibson said to Mulder as the young Native American men got out of the white Toyota pickup.

Mulder nodded, and moved to approach Eric Hosteen, warmly shaking his hand in greeting.

Eric sighed, glancing between Mulder and Gibson. “A message came for you. A man showed up at my father’s house, one of the Ancestral Puebloans, a descendant of the Anasazi.”

“There’s a wise man living in the ancient ruins in Chaco Canyon,” one of Eric’s friends said. "Calls himself the Keeper of the Truth."

“We didn’t think anyone lived there,” Eric continued. “But the man who came to my father’s house insisted on it and claimed to bring a message from this wise man. He said the message must be given to the FBI man, Mulder.”

Nodding his head, Mulder reached for the small white envelope Eric Hosteen was now holding out to him. “Thank you.”

“Mr. Hosteen didn’t believe there was anything to distrust about the Puebloan,” said another of Eric’s friends. “He seemed to be telling the truth. We have heard of this wise man. People have claimed to see smoke coming from one of the rooms at the ruin. There must be someone living there."

Mulder nodded, and looked down at the envelope in his hand. After thanking Eric Hosteen and his friends, they got back in the white truck and soon departed. Mulder then opened the sealed envelope, finding a key card inside and another handwritten note.

“At 9:00 am on Monday, January 28th, a helicopter will transport surveyors from the Military Institute of Science and Technology in Arlington for its annual assessment at the Mount Weather Complex in Bluemont. There you will find the answers you seek.”

Looking up from the note, he locked eyes with Gibson. The teenage boy fervently shook his head, his brows knitted in worry.

Mulder looked at his young friend sympathetically. “I have to. This could be the key to everything. This could be my one and only chance to be with Scully and William again. The only thing that matters to me is getting home.”

Gibson anxiously watched Mulder walk determinedly back inside the trailer, his stomach knotting in fear.


	118. “While the rest of the world have been fighting gooks and commies, these men have been secretly negotiating a planned Armageddon.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder's return to Virginia leads to the discovery of the awful truth the government had been hiding, but also his arrest and imprisonment.
> 
> Disclaimer: Scenes from the episode "The Truth" don't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulsavers - "Gone Too Far"
> 
> I watched you rising  
> I watched you sleep  
> I knew you were just like me  
> Intoxicated  
> Oh struggling to breathe
> 
> I heard you whimpering  
> In the back room  
> Gone too far  
> Too far, too soon
> 
> I guess it’s your time here  
> That time for you  
> When it all comes crashing down on you  
> Yes, I’ve been praying  
> Oh, so what else am I supposed to do?
> 
> I heard you whispering  
> In the back room  
> You’ve gone too far  
> Too far, too soon
> 
> You made that mistake now  
> They were gunning for you  
> You’ve gone too far  
> Too far, too soon  
> Now you feel nothing  
> Life can be cruel
> 
> That night I saw you  
> You passed by my room  
> I hope you made peace with the man in the moon

On Tuesday evening, January 22nd, Mulder pulled his nay blue Chevy truck into Valerie Hosteen’s driveway. After knocking on her door, he momentarily heard the sound of barking dogs, but then they were almost immediately quieted. A few seconds later, the door opened and she stood there, in black jeans and a white University of Arizona t-shirt, staring at him, disapproval etched across her features.

“What are you doing here?” Valerie asked. “You’re supposed to be making yourself scarce. You shouldn’t be here in town.”

“I’m heading back east,” replied Mulder. “I was just stopping by to ask you to look in on Gibson while I’m gone.”

Her eyes widened. “Where… where are you going?”

He sighed. “Virginia. There’s something I have to check out. I might be able to find the answers I need. This could be my chance… my chance to stop this threat against my family, my chance to go home.”

“How long will you be gone?” asked Valerie. “And you are… coming back, right?”

“I thought you wanted me to leave. I thought you’d be thrilled.”

She averted her eyes, sighing.

Mulder considered her a moment, pausing. “Anyways, I don’t know.”

Valerie looked at him. “You don’t know how long you’ll be gone? Or you don’t know if you’re coming back?”

He thought of Gibson out there in the mobile trailer all by himself now. Mulder could never really leave him there. He sighed. “Yes, I’ll be back.”

She nodded, chewing her bottom lip as he started to walk off her porch. “Please be careful,” Valerie said.

Mulder turned back around and looked at her.

“Maybe… maybe you should go see Kee Tso or one of the elders and get a blessing before you leave. Just, you know, in case.”

“I thought you didn’t buy into that stuff?” asked Mulder, his mouth curving into a smirk.

Valerie only sighed, and didn’t reply.

He pursed his lips. “I’ll be fine. Try not to worry.”

“Don’t you think Gibson should move back to town?” she asked. “Instead of living out there all alone?”

“Somewhere secluded, where the entire reservation doesn’t know where he is, is the best place for him," Mulder replied. "He’s a smart boy. He’s 16. He can take care of himself. He’ll be fine. Just… check up on him when you can. Make sure he’s got enough food out there.”

She nodded. “I will.”

Nodding a silent goodbye, Mulder turned and walked down the concrete steps, heading for the truck, Valerie staring after him, doubting whether he really would come back.

Five hours later, at just past midnight, he was driving through Albuquerque, New Mexico, but instead of stopping for the night, he just kept driving. At 5:00 am on Wednesday, January 23rd, he’d entered Amarillo, Texas, and after renting a room at the Interstate Motel, Mulder crashed on the lumpy bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

At noon on Wednesday, he checked out of the motel and got back on the road. Mulder drove for the next 12 hours, only stopping for gas or a quick bite to eat, and upon reaching Memphis, Tennessee he checked into another motel and stayed the night. On Thursday morning, Mulder was back on the road. He checked his mirrors often, looking for signs he was being followed or anything else that seemed amiss since his departure from the Navajo reservation, finding none.

Eight hours after departing Memphis, Mulder crossed state lines into Virginia. He drove past the Blue Ridge Parkway, fervently aware he was passing Skyland Mountain, and a nervous feeling flooded his gut. He checked his mirrors more frequently, wondering if those in power, human or supernatural, were still just as actively seeking to kill him as they were a year ago, and how determined they still were to find him.

At 10:00 pm on Thursday, January 24th, Mulder arrived in Front Royal, Virginia, a town with a population of around 14,000 residents and only an hour’s drive from Arlington. After finding a Motel 6, he rented a room where he’d station himself until it was time to move into action on Monday morning. Once he’d taken a hot shower and collapsed on the bed, Mulder spent a long time staring up at the ceiling, thinking about Scully and William.

In just an hour and 15 minutes he could be in Georgetown. He was just an hour and 15 minutes away from holding his son in his arms, was just an hour and 15 minutes away from holding Scully, kissing her, making love to her. He ached with just the thought of seeing her, touching her. It’d be the middle of the night. It’d be dark. He’d be unexpected, not having communicated a thing to her since April. The chances he could enter her apartment building unseen were high. Unless it was being watched. He had little doubt that it wasn’t. Mulder was closer to them than he had been in almost a year, but not being able to go to them only made him feel even farther away.

*****

Mulder spent the weekend thinking over his plan, what little he had of one. He created a laminate ID badge with the Military Institute of Science and Technology insignia he’d printed off the Internet. He memorized the two numbered codes that had been written on the back of the message he’d received from the “wise man” living in the Anasazi ruins, along with directions to a room inside Mount Weather that held a computer he would access with those codes.

At 7:30 am on Monday, January 28th, after dressing in his dry-cleaned charcoal suit, Mulder departed Front Royal for Arlington. At 8:42 am, he parked the truck in the lot of the Institute, after flashing the ID badge to gain admittance, and joined the small group of professional-looking men and women waiting near a landing pad. The others merely nodded a greeting in Mulder’s direction, not taking much interest in him. At 8:55 am, a white helicopter, with the number 45 as its only marking, arrived and the group proceeded to board. Several minutes later, the helicopter was once again in the air, heading towards Bluemont, Virginia.

The Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center was a US government facility in the mountains of Shenandoah National Park. Although the government had released very little information about Mount Weather, it’s existence and basic purpose had been acknowledged. As far as Mulder knew, it housed operations and training facilities above ground for the Federal Emergency Management Agency, while its underground facility had been designed to house key figures of the American government in case of disaster such as nuclear warfare. What exactly those FEMA operations and training programs were, the public was not aware, and what currently went on in the underground facility in lieu of calamity was also unknown. Ever since the Dallas bombing nearly four years earlier and the events that transpired afterwards, Mulder was always suspicious of anything associated with FEMA.

An hour after departing Arlington, the helicopter approached a mountain top near the town of Bluemont. Looking out the window, Mulder noticed a facility in the mountain side guarded by a lot of armed military personnel. His stomach knotted. Just how widely known was the government’s pursuit of him? And which branches of the government were even involved in this plot against him, and his son? Was it only the FBI? Or was it military, something stemming from the so-called Super Soldier program? If caught, would he be recognized? Would he be killed on sight? Or merely apprehended? These thoughts ran in circles in Mulder’s mind as the helicopter began its descent towards the ground.

Once the chopper had landed, a military man opened the helicopter door, and the passengers began to disembark. Mulder stepped out and looked around, surveying the entrance, the visitors from the Military Institute in Arlington, and the armed guards. After he showed his fake ID badge, he joined the others he’d traveled with on a square green transport bus. One of the guards closed the door, and the bus drove through the mountain-side entrance, and into a long, dark tunnel.

Just a couple minutes later, the bus stopped and three men approached. It was evident they were Mount Weather government workers. The bus then began to unload, the men and women greeting the workers. Mulder exited the bus and turned right, away from the gathering group. He glanced behind him to see whether anyone saw him move in the other direction, and he saw no one was paying him any attention. He then took off running down another tunnel.

A blue door opened automatically as Mulder approached it, stepping through the passageway and onto the top of a metal staircase that led into an open tunnel. There he observed dozens of government workers and military personnel on the floor below, busy at work. Mulder made his way down the stairs, trying to look casual, walking quickly through the catwalk. Coming to another door, he slid his key card into an electronic lock. The card then popped back out and the door opened.

He then made his way through another tunnel, a large blue door opening at the end. Mulder shut it quietly and crossed the room to the main computer terminal. Taking a seat, he looked up at the large screen in front of him. An encryption filled the screen from top to bottom, and for a split second he thought of the Lone Gunmen. Typing in the numbered access code, the screen then instantly cleared, and Mulder looked at it, pausing.

<END GAME  
ACCESS CODE>

He typed in the correct code, and the screen cleared again, before filling with another encryption that quickly decoded in front of his eyes and Mulder began to read. His stomach immediately knotted.

<CONFIDENTIAL  
DECEMBER 22, 2012  
THE DATE SET FOR MOBILIZATION OF ALIEN FORCES CULMINATES IN THE COMPLETE ABDICATION OF CIVILIAN AND MILITARY CONTROL. THIS DATE WAS FIRST RECORDED BY AREA 51 COMMANDER DANIEL M. MILLER UPON LEARNING INTELLIGENCE IN ROSWELL, N.M., INITIATING FIRST CONTACT WITH ALIEN FORCES IN 1947.

GOVERNMENT AND MILITARY OFFICIALS ARE INSTRUCTED TO FOLLOW EMERGENCY PROTOCOL AND INSTRUCTIONS. IT IS ANTICIPATED THAT THE CONSTITUTIONAL GOVERNMENT WILL BE DESTROYED, RESULTING IN THE TRANSFER OF POWER TO THE FEDERAL EMERGENCY MANAGEMENT AGENCY...>

Mulder stared at the screen, almost as if frozen. He’d been told as much by Alvin Kurtzweil several years earlier. Even Cancer Man had hinted several times about a date being set. And the date leaped out from the computer screen, punching him in the gut. An innocent face with a pair of big blue eyes flashed in front of him, and Mulder’s heart broke, a gut-wrenching pain stabbing him sharply. He fought hard to suppress it as quickly as possible. There had to be another answer here. There had to be something else, a way to fight or postpone until they could.

His reading was soon interrupted by the sound of the lock in the door to the room. Mulder quickly got up from the chair, and without bothering to clear the computer screen, he crossed the room to the other side, hiding behind a panel. He listened as the door to the room opened, heard the sound of heavy footsteps as someone entered. There was a metal cylindrical tube against the wall, and Mulder grabbed hold of it. Stepping out from behind the panel, he saw a uniformed military man standing in front of the computer.

Mulder slowly approached him, before hitting him squarely in the head with the metal tube. The man simply turned around, unfazed by the hit and grabbed Mulder by the neck, picking him up as if he weighed nothing at all, and threw him through the glass of the computer screen. Mulder fell onto the floor below, pain shooting across his back, down through his hip, and up across the back of his head. Realizing his attacker was Knowle Rohrer, he quickly got up and headed out the partially open door. Running for his life, Mulder tried to put as much distance as he could between himself and the Super Soldier in fast pursuit.

He ran toward the blue door that would take him back into the main tunnel and back to the entrance. Mulder suddenly stopped running at the sight of a familiar man blocking the doorway. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. He looked back at Knowle Rohrer closing in on him, and made for the exit and the man standing in the doorway. Mulder ran past him and then heard the door behind him shut; the Super Soldier on the other side then immediately began to beat against it.

Mulder stopped and looked at Alex Krycek as the thumping sounds of Knowle Rohrer trying to get through the secure, locked door continued. “No! You're dead.”

Krycek merely looked at him. “Go.”

But he didn’t move, and stared. How was this possible? He’d watched Skinner shoot the man in the head with his own eyes. Krycek turned to look at the door as Knowle Rohrer kept pounding. He then looked back at Mulder.

“There's others,” said Krycek, his familiar voice almost like a silken whisper.

A loud Klaxon alarm started sounding out, and Mulder turned around to see armed military guards running on the catwalks heading toward him. He turned back around and Krycek was gone. Mulder stood there for a moment, confused. Had he just imagined it? Had he taken a harder hit to the head than he’d supposed?

Mulder's confusion quickly dissipated as the military started to slowly close in on him, and he started running, only to be stopped by Knowle Rohrer running toward him. Behind Mulder, another armed military man blocked that way out. He climbed up the stairs as the Super Solder continued his fast pursuit, closing the distance between them. He felt trapped, but was determined to make it out safely, and ran for his life. There was no way in hell he was going to die there. There was no way he was going to meet his end this way, without ever holding Scully or his son again.

As Mulder crossed the catwalk headed toward the stairs that went up to the next level, Knowle Rohrer reached him and pulled him down from behind, pinning him to the catwalk railing. Rohrer then had Mulder's neck in a vice-like grip as he pushed him downward over the metal railing. Mulder could hear the government and military personnel gather on the ground below, their voices carrying upwards as they were suddenly made aware of the commotion happening above.

Struggling to maintain his balance and to find some way to fight the Super Soldier, Mulder’s foot braced against a canister bolted to the catwalk floor. Using the leverage, he flipped both himself and a shocked Knowle Rohrer over the catwalk railing. Unprepared for this, Rohrer fell into the electrical wires running across the tunnel, and was electrocuted, sparks flying. The people gathered below shouted, and started scrambling.

Still hanging from the railing, Mulder pulled himself up, bracing his feet against the ledge and pushing himself up. He was soon over the railing and standing on the catwalk, only to be confronted with armed military soldiers advancing on him, weapons raised. There was no escape. Mulder sighed, bracing himself, and raised his arms up in the air in surrender.

The soldiers surrounded Mulder, the aim of their automatic weapons unchanging, and one began to question him.

“Who are you? What are you doing here? What’s your name?”

Mulder stood silent, refusing to answer.

The soldier at the front of the group stared at him hard. “Are you armed? Gun? Explosive device?”

His heart pounding in his chest, Mulder shook his head in response. “No.”

The armed military guard considered him a moment, and then glanced at the others with him. “Take this man into custody.”

Two soldiers stepped forward, and approached Mulder. He silently complied, very much aware of just how many weapons were pointed at him, as they cuffed him, checked for weapons, and then shackled his restrained wrists to the front of a leather belt that they cinched around his waist. Then each grabbing an arm at the armpit, the soldiers marched him across the catwalk towards the door. They pulled Mulder along through the tunnel, until they reached the outdoors. The cold air chilled him to the bone, and the bright sunshine caused him to squint before his eyes could adjust. The soldiers then shoved Mulder into the back of a waiting military vehicle, and then joined him, each taking a seat on either side, their automatic weapons pointed directly at him. A third soldier got into the driver’s seat and started the engine without a word from the others, and then began to move the vehicle away from Mount Weather.

The trip took an hour and a half. It was silent, the soldiers neither speaking to Mulder or to each other. As the vehicle made its way south through Virginia, Mulder had a strong feeling that he knew exactly where they were heading. His suspicions proved to be correct when the driver took exit 150A off the I-95. They were going to Quantico.

*****

As the military vehicle made its way to the entrance of the Marine Corps Base, the driver announcing to the guard about the detention of a prisoner from Mount Weather. Apparently the base had already been informed of their arrival, and the guard merely nodded. When the guard asked for the prisoner’s name, the driver hesitated and glanced into the back seat. One of the soldiers in the back caught the driver’s eye, and then turned to address Mulder.

“Care to tell us your name now, motherfucker?”

Mulder stared straight ahead, not saying a word.

The driver then handed over the items that had been taken from Mulder. “There’s no ID. No credit cards. Just a fake MIST badge, that key card, and a motel room key.”

The gate attendant took the wallet and the key card, and then looked down at the badge. “His name George Hale?”

“He’s not saying a word,” said the soldier to Mulder’s right.

The guard then waved them inside after handing back Mulder's wallet to the driver, and the vehicle drove onto the Marine Corps Base, before heading south of base headquarters on road MCB1. After several minutes, the driver turned left onto MCB4 and Mulder’s heart started pounding, his stomach knotting, as they drove past Bureau Parkway. A short distance down that road was the FBI Academy. Scully was no doubt there, right now. He was closer to her than he’d ever been since that night in the quarry, but he’d never been further away than he was at that moment.

The driver continued down MCB4 until they reached the Marine Corps Brig. The Brig was a military prison surrounded by a 20 foot high chain link fence, complete with razor wire, security cameras, and posted guards made up of Navy and Marine Corps personnel. Technically, the prison could hold up to 150 inmates, but it rarely ever housed even close to that number. As the vehicle gained admittance through the Brig gate, Mulder anxiously wondered what lay in store for him beyond the prison walls. But his anxieties weren’t evident on the surface, and there was truly only one person who could have noticed the look of panic now finally showing on his face.

Finally, the military vehicle came to a stop and the soldiers pulled Mulder out, before gripping each arm and escorting him inside the prison. They led him down a hallway, through a large door, and an adjoining office, and held him in stiff attention in front of a mahogany desk with the nameplate of one General Mark A. Suveg and a serious-looking military commander sitting behind it. The general sat in his chair, hands clasping the armrests. His silver hair was cropped short, not a strand out of place. He said nothing for a long moment, staring fixedly at the prisoner. Mulder stared right back, holding up under the general’s hardened gaze.

“So,” the general finally said. “Fox Mulder. A lot of people have been looking for you for a long time.”

He swallowed and his heart pounded, but he said nothing, and didn’t take his eyes from the general’s face. A moment later, a uniformed military officer entered the room and handed over Mulder’s wallet to the commander.

Suveg looked back to the prisoner. “This key card to Mount Weather… how did you get it?”

Mulder said nothing.

“Do you know who it belongs to?” asked Suveg. There’d been no sign of Spender in almost two years. The government had no idea where he was, or if he was even alive, which had been highly doubtful. But when his key card entered the system that morning, suspicions were raised.

Swallowing again, Mulder licked his bottom lip and his direct gaze at the general slightly faltered. He had no real idea who had sent him the key card, or who might have been its rightful owner.

Suveg smirked. “You don’t know, do you?” His face once again hardened. “Mr. Mulder, you murdered a marine. On government property, which you had no authority to be there. I hope you understand just how serious this is. You are going to be charged with the second degree murder of Knowle Rohrer, among other charges, I'm sure.”

“Is there a body?” asked Mulder, the first words he’d spoken in hours.

The general’s eyes widened slightly, quickly darting to the soldiers still standing in attention on either side of the prisoner, before returning his gaze to Mulder. Clearing his throat, he then spoke to him sternly.

“Mr. Mulder, you will remain here until you are either transferred to another authority or are transported to a courtroom, whenever a court date is arranged.” Suveg stood up from the desk and addressed his men. “He is to be taken to solitary confinement in Special Quarters 2. Mulder here has quite the knack for getting out of things as well as being stubbornly noncompliant, or so I’ve heard. Take him away.”

The soldiers silently obeyed, escorting Mulder out of the general’s office and marching him to the Special Quarters section of the prison. Once they were admitted through a locked gate, Mulder was taken to a medical room. A middle aged man in a white lab coat approached him as the soldiers unlocked his cuffs and shackle, removing the leather belt from his waist.

“I’ll be conducting a medical exam before you are placed in your cell,” the man spoke. “You’ll need to take off all your clothes.”

Mulder glanced at the soldiers, the steely looks on their faces, and then back to the military doctor, sighing. He then stripped off his suit, and soon was standing naked in front of them. His clothes were taken and the doctor placed them in a box on a desk against the far right wall, before walking back over.

“Okay, follow me,” he told Mulder.

The two armed soldiers stepped up and shoved Mulder forward, who then started following the doctor over to an exam table. His vitals were recorded, as well as his height and weight, and blood work was taken. He was then given a standard orange prison uniform, and got dressed. The guards then cuffed and shackled him once again, and walked him out of the exam room, heading for the cells used for solitary confinement.

Mulder’s eyes were everywhere, taking in everything around him, in an effort to familiarize himself with his surroundings, to memorize the path taken by his armed guards. He knew the prison had been in use since the early 1970’s, but it seemed to Mulder that it dated back to the days when authorities relied more on the strength of iron and stone than carefully designed techniques to keep prisoners from escaping.

The armed guards reached the area designated by General Suveg, which had been empty of prisoners until this moment, and handed Mulder over to a truculent-looking soldier, the acting warden of Special Quarters 2. He was then led to a group of cells, and after the warden unlocked a heavy door, Mulder’s restraints were unlocked and removed. He was then shoved inside. There was a stainless steel toilet in one corner. Everything else was concrete. There was no bed. He felt grateful for being held in solitary, thinking of the open cages with dangerous inmates that came standard in prisons, and welcomed the comfort of complete privacy.

But as Mulder watched the door close, listening to the warden double-locking him inside, and then glanced at the wrist-thick iron bars in the small upper window, he knew that it would be virtually impossible to escape his present circumstances, not without friends on the outside to help him. His thoughts drifted to the Lone Gunmen as Mulder sat down on the hard concrete floor, putting his back against the wall, wondering just how many friends he still had in the world, and if they would ever know he was there.

He thought of General Suveg’s comments. What complete bullshit. There would be no transfer. There would be no trial. He knew they wanted him dead. Would he die in there? Without ever seeing Scully again? Without ever holding William again? Would she find out he was there? Or only learn of him after he’d met his fate, when there was nothing to be done? He had to see her. But at the same time, the thought of seeing Scully and of telling her what he’d learned at Mount Weather turned his stomach. He thought of that date. Mulder then thought of his son, his blue eyes and fixed, almost penetrating gaze, his tiny feet, his small hand gripping his finger tight, and he hung his head as a wave of misery came over him.


	119. “You don't care what these people have sacrificed over the last nine years – what’s been lost to their cause.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully and Mulder learn shocking news. A military tribunal is held to try Mulder's charges, leading to a decision that seals both their fates.
> 
> Disclaimer: Dialog from "The Truth" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter, and belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daughter - "Tomorrow"
> 
> By tomorrow we'll be swimming with the fishes  
> Leave our troubles in the sand  
> And when the sun comes up  
> We'll be nothing but dust  
> Just the outlines of our hands
> 
> By tomorrow we'll be lost amongst the leaves  
> In a wind that chills the skeletons of trees  
> And when the moon, it shines, I will leave two lines  
> Find my love, then find me
> 
> But don't bring tomorrow  
> 'Cause I already know  
> I'll lose you  
> Don't bring tomorrow  
> 'Cause I already know  
> I'll lose you
> 
> By tomorrow I'll be left in the darkness  
> Amongst your cold sheets  
> And your shoes will be gone  
> And your body warmth no longer beside me
> 
> So don't bring tomorrow  
> 'Cause I already know  
> I'll lose you  
> Don't bring tomorrow  
> 'Cause I already know  
> I'll lose  
> I'll lose  
> You

On Monday, February 11th, Scully performed her usual morning routine, showering and dressing for work. Standing in front of her mirror, she brushed her hands over the front of her black suit jacket and straightened the gray button down blouse underneath. She glanced at her watch and walked out of the bedroom, heading through the kitchen to the front door. As she reached for her knee-length wool trench coat on the rack, her telephone rang. Scully sighed, momentarily considering just leaving and letting the call go to her answering machine, but then walked over to grab her cordless phone from its base on the desk in the living room.

“Hello?”

“Agent Scully, it’s Skinner.”

She hadn’t heard from him since the Fogelman case last month. “Yes, sir?”

He hesitated a moment. “Mulder’s been found.”

“What?” she breathed, feeling as though her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. “What do you mean? Where is he?”

“He’s at Quantico, locked up in the Marine Corps Brig,” answered Skinner.

Too many thoughts and feelings were hitting Scully at once: relief, excitement, anxiety, fear, confusion. “What’s happened? Why is he there?”

He sighed. “I’m trying to find out. I’m on my way down there now. Meet me there, and hopefully I’ll know more by the time I see you.”

Scully listened as the phone went dead, the dial tone buzzing in her ear. She pressed the ‘end’ button and hurriedly made for her front door, grabbing the trench coat from the rack, and left. Forty-five minutes later, she was on the Marine Corps Base in Quantico, and after flashing her FBI badge and stating her name, she was allowed admittance onto the Brig.

Scully parked her car and made her way to the prison entrance. There she met Skinner. After signing their names and handing over their firearms, they were buzzed through, the automatic door opening to allow them inside. They then showed their FBI badges to a guard on the inside who opened a locked metal gate for them.

“How long has he been here?” Scully asked as they rapidly made their way down the hall.

“I'm trying to get someone to say,” replied Skinner. After making several phone calls on his drive down to Quantico, including one to General Suveg’s office, he hadn’t been successful with getting a straight answer from anyone.

She felt adrenaline rushing through her veins. “Who called you?”

“Kersh’s office,” Skinner answered, remembering the phone call he’d gotten just after he’d arrived at his desk that morning. One of Kersh’s assistants had relayed the news of Mulder’s arrest and imprisonment, but seemed to have very little information concerning details. When Skinner had tried to speak directly with Kersh, he was told the Deputy Director wasn’t available.

“Who called them?” she asked. Mulder was there, inside the same building. She would hopefully be permitted to see him. She almost couldn’t believe it was happening, but she also wanted to know just what the hell was going on.

“I don't know,” Skinner said. “I just know that Mulder's being held here indefinitely.”

Scully glanced up at him as they neared the end of the hallway. “What for?”

He looked over at her. “For the murder of a military man.”

“Who? And when? Where?” She wanted answers.

“I don’t know when this was supposed to have happened, and I don’t know the details,” replied Skinner. “But the man Mulder’s accused of killing was a marine and worked with the Defense Department’s Intelligence Agency.” He stopped as they reached a large door at the end of the hallway, and then turned to look at her. “Knowle Rohrer.”

She stared at him in disbelief. She’d watched Doggett shoot at least 12 rounds into the man’s chest with no effect. And Doggett, not one to exaggerate, claimed to have seen Knowle Rohrer’s headless body. “That’s impossible.”

Skinner heaved a sigh. “I know, but that’s what they’re saying.”

They showed their FBI badges to the guard sitting at the desk in small room behind a window, and they were buzzed through the door. Beyond the door was another hallway, with iron-barred holding cells on each side. Upon reaching the third holding cell on the right, a guard opened it to let Skinner and Scully enter. The guard remained in the cell, watching silently.

Mulder was standing by the window, his heart pounding, preparing himself to lay his eyes on her for the first time in over a year. He’d heard her purposeful footsteps coming down the hall, knowing they could only belong to one person. He’d listened as the holding cell door opened, and a distinct scent entered the cell, sweet, like clover or vanilla. He was trying not to panic, trying to keep it together so not to arouse suspicion from the guards. The beatings and mistreatment had stopped as soon as he’d started playing along. But Mulder was no fool, and knew what they were doing. He fervently kept his right brain active, not allowing his left brain to take over completely in his confinement, determined to fight off the brainwashing the guards had employed.

Upon entering the cell, Scully’s knees went weak. There was a man, tall, with brown hair and broad shoulders. He was dressed in prison orange, and was quiet. As she gazed at the back of his head, she knew there was no mistaking who this was. He hadn’t even turned around, and had done nothing to acknowledge their presence in the holding cell.

“Mulder.”

His heart in his throat, working hard to remain stoic, he turned around. “Dana.”

Her eyes widened, and Scully walked quickly over to him, eager to finally see him and touch him. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, holding him, never wanting to let him go. “Oh, my God,” she breathed, before pressing a tender kiss to Mulder's cheek, still tightly holding on to him.

But Mulder made no move to embrace her, didn’t move his face towards hers to kiss her. He merely stared straight ahead, attempting to numb himself to the feel of her body pressed against his. It was a difficult task, but was made easier by the threatening gaze of the guard standing in the corner. Scully’s stomach knotted as she wondered why she felt so little of their connection coming from Mulder. Something was off. When she finally pulled away, she saw he had a strange aloof expression on his face. She couldn’t read him, and had no idea what he was thinking or feeling.

He looked down into her face, seeing the confusion. “You okay?”

“Am I okay?” she asked incredulously. “Mulder, I haven't seen you in such a long time.” She smiled, tears pricking her eyes, and reached up to caress his face. “I was so worried.”

“Well, it's okay, I'm all right,” he replied, trying to ignore her soft hand on his cheek. “They're treating me really well in here.”

Scully's hand traveled slowly from his face to his chest. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t the Mulder she knew. Something was wrong. “What's happened to you?” she asked.

Mulder remained aloof, pretending not to notice her sad concern. “Nothing. I'm squared away.” He then looked up at Skinner. “Oh, hey, Walter. It's good to see you, man.”

“Have they told you what the charges are, Mulder?” he asked, wondering why he seemed so calm, so unlike himself. “What you're doing here?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” replied Mulder. “We're clear on that.”

Scully’s brows knitted in confusion. “You're clear on what?”

“My crimes,” Mulder answered simply.

For a moment, silence hung between them. Scully’s eyes searched his face. Something was going on. “Mulder…”

“I murdered a man, Dana,” he said, interrupting her, avoiding a personal conversation in front of the guard, whose gaze was still on Mulder like a hawk. “I went looking for something that didn't exist, and I… I made a terrible mistake. I should be punished severely.”

“Whatever you were doing you have the right to a lawyer,” said Skinner, brows furrowed. “To an inquiry and process of law.”

Mulder looked away from Scully. “I don't think you heard me.”

“All right, time's up,” the guard barked.

Her eyes continued to search Mulder's face, looking for any sign or clue that he really was all right under this confusing exterior. “We're going to get you out of here,” Scully said to him quietly.

“And why is that? I'm a guilty man.”

“Time's up, let's go,” ordered the guard, impatience in his hard tone.

Mulder looked from the soldier and back down to Scully. “Uh… excuse me.” He then turned his back on her, and walked over to once again stand in front of the window. He didn’t turn around, and kept himself facing away from her.

Scully stood there for a prolonged moment, staring at Mulder's back, unable to wrap her mind around his behavior, not only regarding the present circumstances he was in, but especially towards her. Skinner saw the hurt and worried look on her face before he turned to leave the holding cell. Scully followed him, and as she approached the doorway, she turned around once more to see Mulder standing there with his back to her. He didn’t move, and he didn’t look at her. Without another word, Scully turned and followed Skinner out to the hallway.

*****

At 11:00 am, Scully was sitting in Skinner's office at FBI headquarters as Agents Doggett and Reyes walked in. They glanced over at Skinner, who was at his desk on the phone, trying to get more information about Mulder’s situation.

“What’s happened, Dana?” asked Monica.

“It’s Mulder,” Scully replied. “The military found him… somewhere. And then arrested him for murder.”

Doggett was shocked. “You saw him? Mulder?”

Monica was also dumbfounded. “They've accused him of murder?”

“And they have him believing that he did it,” Scully said, even though she didn’t truly want to think it possible. They’d done something to him. Or they were forcing him to say those things. Even so, Mulder wouldn’t have greeted her, after being apart for so long, in such an unfeeling way.

“Murdered who?” Doggett asked.

She almost rolled her eyes. “Knowle Rohrer.”

Doggett wondered if he’d heard right. “Knowle Rohrer? It can't be. I watched Knowle Rohrer die.”

“He can't die,” Monica corrected him. “Knowle Rohrer's a Super Soldier.”

Skinner sighed and hung up the phone. “Mulder side-stepped security at a facility known as Mount Weather, a place where they say our so-called ‘shadow government’ is installed.”

Monica looked from Scully to her boss. “What about this murder charge?”

“Thirty government workers are ready to testify they witnessed Mulder push a military officer to his death,” Skinner said.

“Killing a man who can't be killed?” replied Doggett sarcastically.

His words sounded out ominously in the room, which then fell silent. Scully remained quiet for a moment. Something had to be done. She thought of the man who’d warned them a year ago, and even though he’d apparently done nothing to remove the dangers posed against them, he had at least tried to help in some way. She looked at Agent Doggett and made her decision. Without a word, she walked past him, heading towards the double doors that led out to the hallway.

“Where are you going?” Doggett asked.

Scully turned around. “To beg mercy with the man upstairs.”

She then walked out the door, closing it shut behind her. Walking to the end of the hallway, she soon was on the elevator and riding up to the fifth floor. She then walked with determined purpose to Kersh’s office, where she was greeted by his secretary, Stacey Palmer.

“I need to speak with the Deputy Director,” Scully said to her. “It’s urgent.”

“Do you have an appointment?” asked Stacey with a look of disapproval.

Scully arched her eyebrow, and gave the blonde a withering look. “It’s an emergency. Please tell him that I need to see him right away.”

The secretary clenched her jaw, and then picked up her desk phone, hitting the button for the Deputy Director’s extension.

Kersh’s voice then sounded out in the outer office. “Yes, Miss Palmer?”

“Sir, Agent Scully is here to see you, she says it’s an emergency.”

The room fell silent as Kersh paused, the two women looking at each other. He then answered. “All right. Send her in.”

Scully immediately walked away from the desk and over to the door, opening it and letting herself inside, shutting it behind her.

"Sit down, Agent Scully,” said Kersh by way of greeting.

She walked over to the desk, sitting in one of the chairs facing it. “Thank you for seeing me, sir.”

“You’ve been made aware of the situation Fox Mulder has found himself in,” the Deputy Director said.

“Yes, sir,” replied Scully.

He considered her a moment. “And you went to the Brig at Quantico to see him?”

She nodded, her stomach knotting as she wrenched her fingers in her lap. “Something’s happened to him. They’ve done something to him. Sir, he’s innocent. We both know Mulder is incapable of murder.”

“He’s killed before,” Kersh remarked.

“In self-defense, sir,” replied Scully. “Is there anything you can do? Speak to the military? Ask them to show mercy, to give Mulder every consideration possible? Please. You know Mulder’s character. You know the danger he’s in. And you know that he couldn’t have possibly killed Knowle Rohrer.”

The Deputy Director sighed while she fought back the lump growing in her throat, the tears now pricking her eyes. He then nodded his head. “All right, Agent Scully. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll get on the phone and do what I can.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, sir.”

Scully then walked out of Kersh’s office and made her way back down to Skinner’s on the fourth floor. For the next two hours, the Assistant Director made phone calls from his desk phone while Agent Doggett sat in one of the chairs on his cell phone, calling his contacts in the Marine Corps. Scully and Agent Reyes sat silently on the leather couch against the wall. Monica sensed Scully’s fear and confusion, the anxiety that plagued her, and the deep sadness lying underneath it all.

At 2:30 in the afternoon, Skinner got a phone call from Kersh. The military was going to give Mulder a trial in their court system. Doggett’s eyes had bulged, and he ranted about how military courts were designed to try members of enemy forces during times of war, that Mulder was neither an officer in the US military nor a foreign army, and so a military tribunal was unconstitutional. When Skinner informed the room that Kersh and Assistant Director Torrance would be part of the panel of military judges, Doggett hit the roof.

“Who’s going to defend him? Brad Follmer?” Doggett snarked as he and Monica walked out of the office.

Skinner and Scully looked at each other as the door shut behind Agents Doggett and Reyes. Who was going to defend Mulder? Several minutes later, they were departing FBI headquarters to return to Quantico, having been given permission to see Mulder again, to inform him of the trial proceedings and to discuss acquiring some counsel for his defense. Just before 3:45, Scully and Skinner were once again walking through security at the Marine Corps Brig at Quantico, and they followed an armed guard to a different section of the prison than the one they’d been to earlier that morning.

The military guard opened the heavy cell door that he’d led Scully and Skinner to. They stepped into the cell. It was dark, with only a small barred window in the upper part of the opposite wall. Mulder was standing in front of it, facing the light coming through, his back to them. He listened as the guard closed the door. He knew the guard hadn’t entered, and had remained outside. He could smell Scully in the cell. He heard another pair of feet walk in with her, and knew it must be Skinner. He grinned to himself, before making his face as blank as possible.

“Mulder.” Scully spoke almost hesitantly, again wondering what was wrong with him, her stomach knotting with fear and anxiety.

He turned around slowly, contorting his face to his best Anthony Hopkins impression. He moved away from the light of the window, and a little closer to Scully and Skinner.

“Mulder…” she said again, unsure what to make of his demeanor. She didn’t move towards him, but remained frozen in her spot, still quite a length away from him. Was there something seriously wrong with him? Worse than she might’ve thought?

He sniffed the air around him and fixed his stare only at Scully, lowering his voice to an almost-threatening tone. “I smelled you coming, Clarice.”

Her eyes widened and she threw an an uncertain glance to Skinner, who looked stunned and speechless.

Mulder couldn’t fight it anymore, and he chuckled, smiling. “I had you. I had you both.”

Scully took a shocked breath at being once again exposed to Mulder's unique sense of humor. “Oh, my…” She could kill him. Right there. She could smack the shit out of him. But Scully still didn’t move towards him, her stomach still in knots. “Damn it, Mulder. It's not funny to see you putting on that act.”

“No, that _is_ funny,” he replied, fixing her with an intense look. He began to walk towards her, butterflies filling his stomach and his heart pounding in his chest. “What's _not_ funny is what they do to you in here if you don't put on that act.”

By the time Scully registered the fact that Mulder now actually sounded like his normal self, he’d pushed past Skinner and reached for her, holding her face with both hands, and then drew her to him as he leaned down towards her. Mulder kissed her tenderly, leisurely taking his time, his thumbs gently caressing her cheeks. Scully returned his kiss passionately, reaching up, her hand going to his hair. This was the reunion they both needed, and their hearts swelled, full to bursting. Mulder wrapped his arms around Scully as her arm went around his neck and his hand sunk into her soft hair, drawing her closer to him. They languidly kissed again, their noses brushing intimately, and Scully smiled into Mulder’s mouth. Their faces then pulled apart, and she kissed his cheek and then his neck, before they passionately embraced one another. Scully’s arms went around Mulder’s neck as his arms wrapped around her, and they simply held each other tight for one long moment, relief and comfort and affection flooding their senses.

Mulder and Scully pulled away from each other, and he humorously turned to Skinner, who’d been averting his eyes and staring at the floor. “Come here, you big, bald, beautiful man.”

“The only thing you're going to be kissing, Mulder, is your sweet ass goodbye, with the trouble you’re in.”

“Uh-huh, I kind of gathered that right around the 50th brainwashing session,” Mulder said, taking Scully’s hand in his own. He inched closer to her, lifting her hand with both of his, bringing it to his lips and kissing it softly, gazing moonily at her. Just to be in the same room as her greatly alleviated his present hardships, and he thanked his lucky stars he'd been able to see her again, after spending a great deal of time doubting this day would ever come.

“Mulder, why are they doing this to you?” she asked, not removing her gaze from his face.

“They think that they're preparing me for my trial,” he replied. “For my testimony.”

Skinner furrowed his brows. “Your testimony's not going to matter. Not with the case they're building.”

Mulder turned a serious look on his former boss. “Not building. Rigging.”

“Yeah, I don't think you understand the seriousness of the charges,” said Skinner. “This isn't some routine wrist slapping. You're on trial for your _life._ ”

“My trial's a forgone conclusion. What they really want is for me to admit my guilt and help them out.”

Scully knew he wasn’t guilty of the charges. “Mulder, they're saying you killed a man.”

“Have they produced a body?” he asked her.

Neither she nor Skinner could answer this. Any queries the Assistant Director had made into the alleged victim, Knowle Rohrer, had only been given the run around.

“You can't produce a body because you can't kill a man who won't die,” Mulder said matter-of-factly.

“Well, body or not, they've got 30 witnesses from that government facility ready to testify against you,” Skinner retorted.

Scully looked at her partner, wanting to be hopeful. “Mulder, we'll get you the best lawyer.”

He let out a breathy laugh, and smiled at her. “Would you defend a man who believes in aliens against the FBI and the military? It's never going to happen. Skinner can defend me.”

“I can't represent you,” Skinner said incredulously. Mulder would need a real lawyer, preferably one who understood the ins and outs of the military justice system.

“You know all the facts, the details, the whole government conspiracy.” Mulder tore his gaze from Scully’s face and looked at Skinner. “More than that, I trust you.”

Skinner stared at him silently, feeling stunned by the weight of Mulder's absolute faith in him, and of his willingness to put his very life in the hands of someone who would no doubt lose this trial. Skinner had nowhere near the confidence in himself that Mulder seemed to have in him.

Scully didn’t think that was a good idea, and knew he would need a real trial lawyer. “Mulder…”

“They can't try me without exposing themselves,” he said to her. “I know what I'm doing.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, and the three of them were silent for a moment. The cell door then abruptly opened, Agents Doggett and Reyes entering.

“Woo, now it's a party,” Mulder deadpanned.

Doggett stopped short in the cell, and looked at the current prisoner and former pain in his ass, greeting him. “Mulder.” The two men stared at each other for a moment, not knowing what exactly to say to one another.

Scully saw the look on Agent Reyes’ face. “What's the matter?”

“We've been working off what little we have but the military just got back to us,” said Monica.

“You ready for this? I know this is impossible, but they're saying they got Knowle Rohrer's body.” Doggett shook his head in disbelief, knowing it was a blatant lie.

This statement hung in the air around them. Mulder looked at Scully, her anxious and confused gaze meeting his. Doggett and Monica glanced at the reunited pair, and exchanged looks before making eye contact with Skinner. He tilted his head towards the door, and the three made to step out. As the door opened and he saw their backs turn to leave, Mulder’s hands once again went to Scully’s face and he stared at her, taking in her appearance. Her hair was longer than when he’d last seen her, and it fell about her shoulders just like in his dreams. Her face was slightly fuller, and she looked softer somehow, rounder. No doubt because of days spent in classrooms and laboratories instead of running around in the dark, chasing after freaks and monsters. She was so beautiful. How had he lasted this long without her?

“Scully…,” he breathed.

Her heart swelled at the familiar sound of reverence and awe in his voice as he said her name. Scully’s hands went to Mulder’s waist while his thumbs gently caressed her face as he held her, and they silently gazed at one another.

Just as Skinner made to walk out the door after Doggett and Monica walked through, the soldier standing guard stood in the doorway. “All right, everybody out,” he barked.

“Just a few more minutes, please,” Scully petitioned the guard, her hands gripping Mulder’s waist tighter.

“I said out. Now.” The steely look in the guard’s face matched the hardness of his tone.

Skinner turned and looked at Scully, silently asking her to cooperate, and she nodded, letting go of Mulder as his hands dropped from her face. They gazed at each other for a second, and he nodded reassuringly. Scully turned and walked towards the doorway, passing the soldier when she stepped outside the cell.

As the guard started to shut the cell door, Mulder quickly moved towards it, calling out hurriedly. “Scully!”

She turned back to look at him, the guard continuing to close the door.

“Scully, I wanna see William!” Mulder called out to her, working to maintain eye contact with her as the door was closing. “I wanna see William!” The door then slammed shut less than a second later, causing him to flinch, locking him inside his solitary confinement.

Scully stared at the door as the guard locked it, her mouth falling open slightly, her eyes widening. She felt like her heart had sunk to her stomach like a lead weight. Her breathing quickened, and she was overcome with a panicked sense of anxiety. How was she going to tell him? She thought she might vomit. Doggett, Monica, and Skinner exchanged nervous looks, before each turned concerned glances in Scully’s direction. She stared silently at the door, standing still as if frozen in terror.

*****

At 10:00 am on Tuesday, February 12th, Skinner walked out of General Suveg’s office, where he'd officially been granted permission to represent Mulder at the trial. Ater going through several security checkpoints inside the prison, he was shown to a room with a wooden table and four chairs around it. He set the briefcase he’d taken from the trunk of his car down on the table before removing a lined notebook and pen. Ten minutes later, two armed guards led Mulder inside the room. After unlocking his wrists, the cuffs and shackle were removed, and the soldiers departed the room, shutting the door behind them.

Mulder approached the table and sat down. For the next two hours, they discussed the government conspiracy to hide the existence of aliens, including the black virus, the Syndicate’s plans for colonization, the Super Soldiers. But Mulder refused to tell Skinner anything about Mount Weather, refused to speak of the information he’d learned on that computer screen. He knew this whole discussion was only for Skinner’s benefit. Mulder knew he was going to lose. He knew he was going to die.

As Skinner stood up from the table, placing his notebook and pen back inside his briefcase, Mulder sighed and leaned back in the wooden chair, restlessly running his hands down his orange-covered legs.

“So, do you think they’ll let Scully bring William in to see me?” he asked, the one thing that had really been on his mind since he’d laid eyes on Scully earlier. “That won’t be a problem, right? He can visit?”

Skinner froze, staring down at his briefcase, and then he slowly closed it, snapping it shut. He didn’t answer, or even look at Mulder.

“Skinner?” Mulder asked again, raising his eyebrows expectantly. “Can I see my son, or not?”

Swallowing, Skinner picked up his briefcase from the table and looked at his friend. “That’s really something you should talk to Scully about.”

With widening eyes and a stomach knotting, Mulder watched as Skinner started to walk away from the table. “What is that supposed to mean? Did… did something happen?”

He sighed. “Like I said, you need to talk to Scully.”

Mulder stood up abruptly. “Skinner, you’re not walking out of here before you tell me what’s going on.”

Sighing again, Skinner turned around and looked at Mulder sadly, before shaking his head and looking down at his shoes.

“Tell me what’s happened,” said Mulder forcefully, his guts starting to churn fiercely, fear gripping his heart.

Skinner walked back over to the table and sat down, Mulder doing the same. The Assistant Director proceeded to recount all that had occurred with Shadow Man as well as the UFO cult that kidnapped William, taking him all the way to Calgary, and its crazed leader, Josepho. He told Mulder about the spaceship and Scully finding William among the charred corpses of the cult members. Skinner told him of Jeffrey Spender showing up, trying to pass himself off as Mulder just to get to William, to inject him with a liquefied metal. He told Mulder all that Jeffrey had said to Scully in the FBI interrogation room.

The more Skinner talked, the more Mulder couldn’t look at him, the more his head bowed, until he was leaning over in front of the table, his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor, his heart in his throat.

“Is my boy okay?” he whispered.

Skinner hesitated. “I think so, yes.”

Mulder now looked up, his eyes searching Skinner’s face. “What do you mean? Don’t you know for sure?”

“You really should talk to Scully about this.” Skinner knew that he shouldn’t be the one to tell him, that this was a conversation best saved for when the two parents were alone, and that this was really none of his business, and therefore it wasn’t his place to relay this information. This whole conversation felt wrong. Scully was the one Mulder should be hearing this from.

“Skinner, tell me,” Mulder replied, and his hands started to tremble as he felt tears suddenly prick his eyes.

He sighed, lowering his head, and then looked back up at Mulder a moment later. “Scully feared for his safety, and she no longer believed she could protect him by herself.” Skinner hesitated, his stomach knotting. He didn’t want to say it. “Back in September, after what happened with Jeffrey, Scully… gave William up for adoption.”

Mulder’s eyes widened in horror, his mouth falling open. He stared at Skinner, speechless.

“She was told William was placed in a safe home, with a good family,” Skinner said, trying to reassure him as best as he could. “Scully believed that your son was no longer safe with her, that he never would be. She… didn’t want that life for him. It couldn’t have been an easy decision. But she was alone, and you were…” Skinner trailed off, not finishing the sentence.

With a wave of sick despair, Mulder bent over, his elbows returning to his knees, burying his face in his hands, and began to weep bitterly. His hope to see his son and to hold him in his arms, to tell William that he loved him, to enjoy being a father one last time, now lay in ruins. He would die without ever seeing his boy again; Scully had lost yet another child. And he knew it was his entire fault.

Skinner watched him sob, feeling helpless. Nothing would comfort Mulder. Not right now. A couple minutes later, the door opened and two soldiers entered the room. They gave a slight pause at the sight of Mulder hunched over, his head in his hands, crying; a sight they clearly weren’t expecting.

“It’s 12:30. Time’s up.”

Standing up from the table, Skinner looked from the guards to Mulder, who hadn’t moved. The soldiers walked over to the table, grabbing their prisoner by the arms, and forced him up. Mulder’s wrists were cuffed, a leather belt went around his waist, and the handcuffs were then shackled to it with a metal chain. Each grabbing an arm, the guards marched Mulder out of the room, tears still streaming down his face.

*****

On Wednesday, February 13th, Scully was lying awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her stomach was in tight knots and her mind wouldn’t shut off. She’d lost the battle and given up on sleep hours ago. She hadn’t seen Mulder at all since Monday afternoon, having been told the day before that he would only be allowed to meet with his counsel before the trial. Scully had thought that was bullshit, but didn’t fight it. She actually hadn’t minded postponing seeing him again.

Scully glanced at the digital clock on her bedside table; it was 4:13 am. The trial would be commencing at 9:00, a fact she’d been shocked about. The military had granted Mulder one day to prepare his defense. Her partner had been right, it was being rigged. Skinner had told her that Mulder hadn’t discussed Mount Weather or why he’d gone there or what had happened there, although he’d admitted to defending himself against Knowle Rohrer. Other than that, he’d refused to speak about Mount Weather and Skinner had told her that he suspected Mulder was hiding something.

She now couldn’t avoid it, couldn’t put off seeing him. Mulder had asked for his son. Telling him about William terrified her. He could cry and rage, and curse her for her betrayal. He could order her out of his cell and tell her to never come back. Or he could greet this news with silence, a spirit crushed and a heart broken, calmly accepting the fact of what she’d done. And then things would never be the same again between them. He would never forgive her.

Scully quickly sat up and bounded out of bed. She couldn’t deal with this alone anymore. It was eating her up inside. She had to tell Mulder. After showering and getting dressed, Scully walked out the door at 6:15 am and headed towards Quantico. At just past 7:00, she was allowed admittance onto the Marine Corps Brig and then made her way inside the prison. A guard escorted her to the Special Quarters section, and at 7:12 am she was walking inside Mulder’s cell.

Mulder was lying on his cell floor, still dressed in orange with plain white sneakers on his feet, with his back against the wall. Scully approached him, careful not to be too loud, and gently placed her hand on his shoulder, waking him. He opened his eyes, blinking up at her.

“Mulder, it's me.”

“Is it time to go?” he asked quietly.

She starting to lower herself to the concrete floor. “No. That's why I'm here.”

He sat up, yawning. Mulder felt exhausted. Whenever his cell door had opened and a guard brought food inside, he’d demanded to see Scully. His pleas were summarily ignored. He’d cried off and on all day, and through the night. He had no idea when sleep came, but remembered the sky lightening to a dull gray. That had probably been about three hours ago.

“Mulder, I need you to talk to me, confide in me… or we'll lose.”

“We can't win, Scully. We can only hope to go down fighting.”

Her eyes widened. Since when was he a quitter? Since when did he ever give up? On anything? “You're scaring me. Mulder, I'm so scared that I've just got you back and now I'm going to lose you again.” Her voice broke, becoming thick with emotion.

He looked at her sadly. “I know what I'm doing.”

“Well... whatever you're doing… you have no idea how much has already been lost,” Scully whispered, her stomach knotting into a tight ball, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. “What I've had to do…”

“I do know,” Mulder said quietly. “Skinner told me.”

Scully began to cry, her tears falling. “Our son, Mulder… I gave him up.”

He reached for her, gathering her into his arms, trying to comfort her, and drawing comfort from her as she wrapped her arms around him. This was what he’d needed the day before. Dealing with this alone in his cell, without her, had been unbearable. His own heart condemned him, his thoughts were cruel and punishing, as his old friends guilt and self-loathing began to suffocate him once again.

“Our son,” she cried. “I was so afraid you could never forgive me.”

“I know you had no choice,” he said, fighting back the lump growing in his throat as tears filled his eyes. “I just missed both of you so much.” He had no idea what else to say. He still felt shocked, unable to fully comprehend that William was really gone and he’d never see him again.

Scully sighed. “God, where have you been? Where have you been hiding?”

Mulder’s thoughts immediately went to Gibson, hiding all alone in that trailer in the middle of nowhere. Another child he’d abandoned, whom he’d never see again. “In New Mexico.” He then buried his face in Scully’s shoulder, and held her tighter.

“Doing what?” she asked.

“Looking for the truth.” He then chuckled darkly at how ridiculous that sounded. What a failure he was. Leaving Scully and William behind had served no purpose. They’d lost their son anyway, and now Mulder was going to be put to death by the military. He really was a failure, just like his father.

She chuckled, and then pressed her lips to his neck. “You found something, didn't you? Huh?” Scully pulled away from him to look into his face. “What did you find?”

He sighed. “I can't tell you.”

“You found something in that facility?” she guessed. “That's what you were doing, right? Mulder, what did you find out there?” She was pleading with him.

“Scully, I can't tell you.”

Her face crumpled again. He wouldn’t keep something from her that was obviously this serious. “That doesn't make sense,” she said in tearful frustration.

Mulder looked at her sadly. “You've got to trust me, Scully. I know things. It's better you don't.” Knowing the date only caused him heartache and anguish, only made him think of a precious little boy who might never grow up. He couldn’t accept that. There had to be some way to stop it, to prevent it. But he felt powerless, and couldn’t see a way out. He didn’t want the pain of that burden for her.

She shook her head, biting her bottom lip. “I can’t lose you again. I can’t. I’ve already lost too much.”

Scully began to cry and Mulder pulled her to him, leaning back against the wall, holding her in his arms, his heart breaking. He held her tighter, pressing her against him as close as he could, breathing in her familiar and comforting scent, his hand sinking into her soft hair. They stayed like that, holding each other silently as tears rolled down their cheeks, for some time, neither finding the right words to say. Promptly at 8:00 am, the cell door opened and a guard entered, announcing that it was “shower and shave time” for Mulder, ordering Scully out. The trial was going to start in an hour.

At 4:00 that afternoon, the tribunal adjourned for the day, after having heard testimony from Scully and Jeffrey Spender. The moment Jeffrey had stepped into the room where she sat with Skinner during the lunch break, Scully’s stomach had bottomed out. She couldn’t believe she had to see this man again, after everything that had happened. She glared at Skinner, and then walked out without a word to either of them.

Jeffrey’s testimony in the afternoon’s session had gone just about as well has her own that morning. She’d recounted everything that had been done to her over the years, her abduction and the government experiments, the things she’d witnessed. But her knowledgeable, expert testimony was thrown out the moment it was established that her and Mulder had a sexual relationship. Nothing she had said would help him. She’d looked over at him, and Mulder had nodded reassuringly, mouthing “it’s okay.” And then that afternoon, Jeffrey’s testimony had done little to help Mulder either.

And now Scully was truly afraid. The trial was not going well, and it would likely not end well. As she walked down the prison hallway, heading for the Special Quarters section, she grew angrier that Mulder didn’t seem to care that the trial wasn’t going well, that he’d seemingly lost his will to fight. Scully walked up to Mulder’s cell in solitary confinement, the guard posted in front of the door opened it for her without a word, and she walked right through without pausing.

Mulder was sitting on the concrete floor against the wall. He’d heard her determined footsteps out in the hall, and he already knew what mood she was in just by the sound they’d made. Scully walked up to him as the door closed behind her. She stood there, looking down at Mulder as he just quietly sat there watching her.

“I know what you want and I can't give it to you.”

“Make them a deal, Mulder. Guilty on a lesser charge. Maybe they'll go for it and they'll let you walk out of here.”

He didn’t want to testify. He didn’t want to sit in that goddamned courtroom and announce the end of the world. “I'd rather die, Scully.”

Her stomach knotted. That didn’t sound like him. “How can you say that? How can you say that, Mulder, to _me?_ ”

“Because this is greater than you or me,” he said. “This is about everything we worked for nine years. The truth that we both sacrificed so much to uncover and to expose.” He couldn’t sit in that courtroom and admit defeat, admit his failure, no matter how much those judges wanted him to. He couldn’t sit there and admit that that cigarette smoking son of a bitch had been right all along, that he’d won, in the end. An invasion was coming, and there was nothing Mulder or anyone could do about it.

Scully got down on her knees in front of him so that she could look into his face. “Well, then, expose it, Mulder! Take the stand. Whatever it is that you're withholding take the stand and hit them full force.”

He shook his head. “I can't.”

She couldn’t believe he’d given up, and of all the things to give up on, he was giving up on his own life. “Why?”

“I just can't.”

“You say this is greater than us, and maybe it is, but this is _us_ fighting this fight, Mulder, not _you_ ,” Scully said, her voice starting to break, becoming thick with emotion. “It's you and me. That's what I'm fighting for, Mulder. _You_ and _me_.”

Mulder shook his head, and averted his eyes from her gaze. He couldn’t say anything to that. He wanted to, but he couldn’t, not without confessing what he'd been trying to keep her from finding out.

Scully stared at him in tearful disbelief, before getting up and leaving without another word to him. She was tired of Mulder feeling like he had to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, and especially when he thought he had to carry that weight alone, when it was a burden he refused to share with her. Maybe he just wanted to protect her, or maybe it was just his unhealthy pattern of believing he could never do enough or suffer enough for his cause. Whatever it was, just because Mulder had seemingly lost the will to fight for himself, that didn’t mean she was going to stop fighting for him. As Scully stepped out of the prison on Wednesday afternoon, she got on her cell phone and called Doggett. They were going to do everything in their power to demand proof from the government that Knowle Rohrer was dead. Just as Mulder had said to her once, the truth would save him. It would save both of them.

*****

On Thursday morning, Scully sat in a large holding cell inside the prison, waiting for the day’s trial proceedings to start. Skinner stood at a desk, looking over some notes and speaking with a woman Scully certainly hadn’t expected to see. Marita Covarrubias was also standing at the desk, quietly discussing her testimony with Skinner. Scully had been suspicious of her presence there, but it appeared that the Marine Corps Brig was the last place on earth Marita actually wanted to be. At 8:45 am, Skinner and Marita departed for the courtroom, leaving Scully alone in the holding cell.

At just past 9:30 am, Scully looked up to see Agents Doggett and Reyes approaching the cell, and a guard opened the door, revealing that they weren’t alone. Gibson Praise was with them. Scully gasped and stood up quickly at the sight of the boy. She hadn’t seen him in almost two years. A wave of tremendous relief washed over her, realizing for the first time that leaving him alone out there in Arizona as a ward of the state had been a burden she’d been carrying, realizing just how often she’d thought of him in the time since, and wondered if he was safe.

Gibson smiled when he saw Agent Scully, and he walked right up to her, also smiling. She ran her hand through his hair affectionately.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“We found out Mulder was in trouble,” Gibson replied. “I had to come help.”

Scully looked at him curiously. “We?”

He nodded. “The Navajos.”

“How did you get here from Arizona?”

“Well, we were in Arizona for a while, but I came from New Mexico,” he answered. “My friend Cody drove us to the airport and we got on a plane. We thought about driving, but neither of us have our license yet.”

She stared at him, almost in disbelief over two teenage boys traveling across the country to help Mulder. Gibson grinned at her, reading the thoughts running through her head. Scully looked down at Gibson expectantly.

“Can you hear what’s going on inside the courtroom?” she asked.

“A woman’s testimony didn’t go so well,” Gibson related to her. “Mulder’s lawyer…”

“Skinner,” she said.

He nodded. “Yeah. He wants her to tell the judges about the Super Soldiers. But she can’t. She’s afraid. Mulder’s making him stop asking about them, to protect her.”

Doggett walked up. “You ready?” he asked Gibson gently.

Gibson nodded and then walked away from Scully. She began to feel nervous about the boy being there, putting himself in danger. Soon she watched as Marita Covarrubias walked by the room. She paused briefly, sharing a look with Scully, before she turned away and walked down the hall. Half an hour later, Gibson returned to the cell along with Doggett and Monica. He related to Scully all that had happened in the courtroom, including the reveal that one of the judges wasn’t human.

Scully turned a shocked face up at Agents Doggett and Reyes. “What?”

“One of those Super Soldiers, no doubt,” said Monica. “Just like Knowle Rohrer.”

“We’ve got to get you out of here,” Scully said, turning to Gibson. Taking the boy by the shoulder, she started walking them towards the holding cell door. She then turned to look at Agents Doggett and Reyes. “Let me know if you get anywhere with the military. We need the proof that there is no victim.”

Doggett nodded. “We’re on it.”

Scully gave them small smile of gratitude, and then walked out the door with Gibson. Soon after they were in her car, heading towards Washington. During their 45 minute drive to her apartment in Georgetown, Gibson related all that had occurred in the past year, from Mulder retrieving him from the Home, to moving into their trailer in Kayenta. He told her of the Anasazi ruins and the alien replacement that had come for Mulder, before exploding into black dust. He told her of that night Mulder was going to shoot himself, and then of the Enemy Way Ceremony that had been put together to help him. He then told her of the messages Mulder had received, and then relocating to Weed Hope, New Mexico.

At 7:50 pm, there was a knock on Scully’s door. A moment later, Agents Doggett and Reyes entered.

“Are you ready for this?” Doggett said. “We may have found Knowle Rohrer.”

“You found him?” Scully replied incredulously as she shut the door.

Monica nodded. “His body.”

That didn’t make sense to Scully. “What are you talking about? There can't be a body; he can't die.”

Monica smirked. “Exactly. But they're saying it's him, the man Mulder killed.”

“Who's saying it's him?” Scully asked.

“I got some guy on the phone at Fort Marlene who didn't know that he was supposed to give me the run around,” Doggett explained. “I got him to send the victim's corpse to Quantico.”

Scully’s heart started pounding in her chest. That was it. That would be their proof. “It's there now?”

“We got a car out front,” said Monica.

Gibson walked out from the guest room, having heard the din of thoughts in the apartment. He didn’t want to be left alone there. “Agent Scully?”

She turned and looked worriedly at Gibson, not wanting to leave him alone and unprotected for a single moment, fully knowing how often she’d let the boy down in the past. But she knew how important it was that she examined the body herself. This was her chance to save Mulder.

Monica sensed Scully’s fear and anxiety, and spoke gently, hoping to calm her fears. “Agent Doggett can stay with him.”

Scully nodded and gave Gibson a look, asking him to forgive her for leaving him there, and then a minute later she was out the door with Monica, heading back to Quantico. Upon arriving, they were led to an autopsy bay with the supposed corpse of Knowle Rohrer. There was only one way Scully would ever be able to prove the military was lying about the victim, and as Monica made her way out of the Quantico Lab, she got on the phone with Assistant Director Brad Follmer, begging for a favor.

For two hours, Scully performed the autopsy. She took tissue samples for the lab technicians to perform a DNA analysis and toxicology screen. All she had to do was hope and pray, and wait on those medical records. At midnight, she was back at her apartment. She opened the guest room to find Gibson fast asleep, before returning to the couch in the living room and laying a blanket over a sleeping Doggett. At dawn on Friday, February 15th, Scully showered and dressed, checked on a sleeping Gibson once again, and then made her way back to Quantico.

After going over the Lab’s DNA analysis and the tox screen for the victim she’d autopsied until she thought she could recite the information by memory, at 8:30 am Agent Reyes walked in with a manila file. “Brad Follmer came through,” Monica said. “At least I hope so.”

Scully quickly moved towards her and took the file, before walking over to the desk and setting Knowle Rohrer’s medical records next to the paperwork on the victim provided by the military. She scanned the information, and then looked up at Monica excitedly.

“We’ve got to get these to Skinner,” she said, almost frantically.

After pulling off her white lab coat, Scully and Monica left the FBI Academy building and drove towards the Marine Corps Brig. Several minutes later, Scully was approaching the courtroom, and she walked in holding the file containing the medical information comparing Knowle Rohrer with the victim. Skinner was standing at the table, with Mulder sitting next to him.

“Assistant Director…” she called out from just inside the doorway.

He nodded, allowing her to approach him. Scully walked over and gave the report to Skinner, who immediately began to read through it. She then leaned in toward Mulder, a look of assurance on her face.

“I found it,” she said quietly.

“What?” he asked, searching her face.

Scully looked at him confidently. “What's going to get you off.”

Skinner almost couldn’t believe their good luck and thanked his lucky stars for Agent Scully. “I want to move to dismiss again based on new evidence I just received that there is no victim. That the body of Knowle Rohrer is not Knowle Rohrer, but that of a man who died of a broken neck and whose body was burned post-mortem.”

“Motion denied,” Kersh barked.

“You can't deny it,” Scully spat back, her insides starting to burn hot like molten lava.

The Deputy Director’s eyes widened. “You're out of order and in contempt of court, Agent Scully.”

She glared at him. “You're in contempt. I have evidence proving that Mulder is innocent.”

“You have no authorization to examine the body, Agent Scully,” Kersh bellowed. “Have her removed from the courtroom.”

Mulder stood up abruptly as soldiers began approaching Scully. “If she's got evidence, you got to listen.”

The guards grabbed Scully roughly by the arms, and Mulder’s stomach flooded with rage as he watched those bastards manhandle his partner. “Don’t you touch her! Get your hands off her!”

Mulder made to go after them, but Skinner intervened, grabbing him by the arms. “Don’t! You’ll only make it worse for yourself!” But he still struggled against Skinner’s hold. “You’ll make it worse for her!”

He heaved a sigh and stopped struggling, watching helplessly as the guards pulled Scully from the courtroom. She fought to look back, to make eye contact with Mulder, worried over what had just happened, fear sinking its teeth into her heart. For a brief second, they locked eyes, before the door slammed shut in her face.

At 5:00 pm, Scully was sitting on her couch, hoping and praying that the evidence she’d given to Skinner would ultimately be evaluated by the judges, that they’d be forced to acknowledge Mulder’s innocence. Everyone else was in the kitchen. Doggett stood against the counter, drinking from a mug of hot coffee; Monica and Gibson were sitting at the dining table. All was quiet.

The telephone starting ringing. Scully sat frozen, staring in front of her, and didn't move to answer it. Doggett sighed and put down his coffee cup, walking into the living room to answer the phone. He walked right past where Scully sat on the couch, over to the desk in front of the bay window, and picked up the cordless phone.

“Yeah,” he answered quietly.

“John, it’s me. The judges rendered their verdict.”

Doggett closed his eyes and listened as Skinner related Mulder’s fate. “I'll tell her.” He then hung up the phone, and stared at it. In the kitchen, Gibson looked at Monica with wide-eyed horror at the same time she felt a sickening sensation growing in the pit of her stomach.

Scully stared at Doggett’s back, noticing his subdued, quiet demeanor. “Who was it?”

“Skinner.” He paused, not wanting to say more. His stomach turned. This was the last thing he ever wanted to tell her.

“Agent Doggett?” He hadn’t moved since he hung up the phone. She could feel the panic rising, her fear seizing hold of her.

He still hadn’t turned around, not wanting to look at Scully. Doggett slowly turned to look at her, and she saw that his face betrayed the bad news and his sorrow before he could even speak.

“Death by lethal injection.”

The last small thread of hope that had been holding Scully together since she was ushered out of the courtroom snapped. She began to crumble, and she fell apart, her heart breaking sobs filling the living room as she buried her face in her hands. Her world was completely torn to pieces. She had nothing, she was nothing. And as Doggett crouched down on the floor in front of her, placing his hands on her back as she hunched over, shaking with sobs, she wondered why this wouldn’t just kill her, wondered why her heart couldn’t just rupture from the pain of it, and bleed internally.


	120. “Regret is an inevitable consequence of life.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With help from friends and others, Mulder makes his escape from prison. He and Scully begin their journey west, where they begin to confront the consequences of their separation.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.
> 
> Disclaimer: Dialog from "The Truth" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sia - "Fire Meet Gasoline"
> 
> It's dangerous to fall in love  
> But I want to burn with you tonight  
> Hurt me  
> There's two of us  
> Bristling with desire  
> The pleasure's pain and fire  
> Burn me
> 
> So come on  
> I'll take you on, take you on  
> I ache for love, ache for us  
> Why don't you come  
> Don't you come a little closer  
> So come on now  
> Strike the match, strike the match now  
> We're a perfect match, perfect somehow  
> We will never want another  
> Come a little closer
> 
> Flame you came for me  
> Fire meet gasoline  
> Fire meet gasoline  
> I'm burning alive  
> I can barely breathe  
> When you're here loving me  
> Fire meet gasoline  
> Fire meet gasoline  
> I got all I need  
> When you came after me  
> Fire meet gasoline  
> I'm burning alive  
> And I can barely breathe  
> When you're here loving me  
> Fire meet gasoline  
> Burn with me tonight
> 
> And we will fly  
> Like smoke darkening the skies  
> I'm Eve, I want to try  
> Take a bite  
> So come on now  
> Strike the match, strike the match now  
> We're a perfect match, perfect somehow  
> We will never want another  
> Come a little closer
> 
> Flame you came for me  
> Fire meet gasoline  
> Fire meet gasoline  
> I'm burning alive  
> I can barely breathe  
> When you're here loving me  
> Fire meet gasoline  
> Fire meet gasoline  
> I got all I need  
> When you came after me  
> Fire meet gasoline  
> I'm burning alive  
> And I can barely breathe  
> When you're here loving me  
> Fire meet gasoline  
> Burn with me tonight
> 
> But it's a bad bet, certain death  
> But I want what I want and I gotta get it  
> When the fire dies, darkened skies  
> Hot ash, dead match  
> Only smoke is left  
> It's a bad bet, certain death  
> But I want what I want and I gotta get it  
> When the fire dies, dark in the skies  
> Hot as a match, only smoke is left
> 
> Flame you came for me  
> Fire meet gasoline  
> Fire meet gasoline  
> I'm burning alive  
> I can barely breathe  
> When you're here loving me  
> Fire meet gasoline  
> Fire meet gasoline  
> I got all I need  
> When you came after me  
> Fire meet gasoline  
> I'm burning alive  
> And I can barely breathe  
> When you're here loving me  
> Fire meet gasoline  
> Burn with me tonight

At 7:05 pm on Friday, February 15th, Skinner knocked on Scully’s apartment door. A moment later, it was opened by Doggett.

“Hey,” said Skinner somberly.

Doggett only sighed and nodded, stepping aside to allow the Assistant Director through the open doorway. He was carrying a black duffel bag. Skinner looked into the living room and saw no one in there, before glancing into the kitchen to see Gibson Praise sitting hunched over the dining table, his head lying in his arms. The boy didn’t move or seem to make any acknowledgment that someone else had entered the apartment.

He turned to the agent. “Where is she, John?”

“She’s in her bedroom with Monica,” Doggett replied. “So… how’s Mulder holding up?”

Skinner sighed and placed one hand on his hip. “He didn’t say a word when we were informed of the verdict. He… he wasn’t surprised.”

Doggett glanced at Gibson, and then turned to walk into the living room, Skinner following him, and spoke quietly. “When’s the execution?”

Closing his eyes, Skinner shook his head, still unable to truly believe the reality of the situation. “Haven’t been given a date on that. Mulder will be held at the Brig indefinitely until a date is set, and the execution carried out.” He sighed. “But I can’t imagine them dragging this out. I’m sure the military will want to get it over with as soon as possible.” Skinner sighed again and sat down on the couch. “I failed him. I failed him in Oregon, and I failed him again. I’ve failed Scully.”

“You didn’t fail anyone,” Doggett said, sitting down on the couch next to him. “The government failed everyone. The injustice of it makes me sick.” His mind filled with thoughts of Knowle Rohrer, anger flooding his stomach. Skinner sighed, leaning back against the couch, unable to find the words to say.

“So what’s in the bag?” asked Doggett.

Skinner looked down at the duffel he’d set on the floor by the couch. “Mulder’s bag from the motel he was staying in. The military handed it over today. They didn’t find anything incriminating. Just clothes and some personal items, I guess.”

Doggett leaned back against the couch, folding his arms, wondering about Scully, not having heard a sound from her room in some time.

In the master bedroom, Scully had finally gone quiet. Monica sat on the bed next to her as she lay down on her side, staring at the closet doors. Her left hand held onto her gold cross, and she fought for the strength to pray, to regain some hope. But she only felt numb, and empty.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call your mom, Dana?” Monica asked. “Or your brothers?”

She only shook her head in response. Scully couldn't bear the thought of her mother seeing just how much her life was in shambles right now. She couldn’t deal with the inevitable look of pain and sorrow on her mother’s face. There was nothing her brothers could do for her, and the knowledge of her suffering would only burden them further. They worried about her enough as it was.

“Can I get you anything?” asked Monica quietly, feeling helpless, wishing there was something she could do for her. “Something to drink? Are you hungry?”

Scully sniffed and shook her head, still staring forward, not turning to look at Agent Reyes.

Monica sighed and gazed sadly at her friend. “Dana, is there anything at all I can do?”

Her chin quivered as tears once again welled up in her eyes. “Just stay here with me,” Scully said, her voice breaking as she fought back the lump growing in her throat.

Monica felt tears prick her own eyes as she reached out to rub Scully’s arm gently. This kind action sent a rush of emotions to the surface, and Scully was crying again. She tried to remember who she had been before Mulder, what her life had been like, how she’d felt, but it was all a blur. Everything after Mulder walked into her life was clear as glass. A world without Mulder was a world she couldn’t imagine, and was unable to believe such a thing truly possible. The injustice, the cruel unfairness that had been done to Mulder filled her with bitterness. What would her life be like after him? Her worst nightmare was coming true, and all she could see in front of her was a dark, lonely emptiness.

At 7:30, there was an urgent knock on the door. Skinner and Doggett got up from the couch and walked over to answer it. As Skinner looked through the peephole, his eyes widened in shock and he quickly opened it. Doggett then stared in surprise as one of the witnesses from Mulder’s trial stood there with an anxious look on her face.

“I need to speak to Agent Scully,” Marita Covarrubias told them, briefly glancing to the side, scanning the hallway. “It’s a matter of life and death.”

“She’s in her bedroom,” said Gibson, who had stood up from the dining table and moved towards the door.

Skinner and Doggett stepped aside and allowed Marita to enter. She then walked through the kitchen with purpose, before she slightly hesitated in front of Scully’s closed bedroom door. After tapping her knuckles against it, Marita opened the door without waiting for a response and stepped inside.

Monica and Scully turned to look at Marita Covarrubias walking towards the bed, and Scully sat up immediately, reaching for her gun from the bedside table. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to give you a warning,” said Marita. “About Mulder. They’re not going to wait to administer the lethal injection. They’re going to kill him in his cell, and make it look like a suicide.”

“What?” Scully gasped, her eyes going wide, and she got off the bed along with Monica.

Marita glanced between the women. “It’ll happen at approximately 11:30. The Special Quarters section of the prison is not going to have its standard number of guards on tonight. No one is to see or hear what will happen in Mulder's cell. At 11:00, the prison guards will commence their shift change. This is your best chance to get him out of there before it’s too late.” She then handed over a set of keys, placing them in Scully’s hand. “These will unlock every gate, and Mulder’s cell.”

Scully stared down at the set of keys in her hand, almost in disbelief, and her heart started pounding. She then looked up at the blonde standing in front of her. “Why are you doing his? Why save Mulder’s life?”

“Because Mulder did the same for me,” Marita replied simply. She then turned and left the bedroom, walked through the kitchen, heading for the front door. As she passed Skinner and Doggett, she turned a brief glance at Gibson Praise. “He’s in danger. They’ll be coming for him, too.” Marita then walked out the door, disappearing as quickly as she’d arrived.

Just as Scully hurriedly made her way to the kitchen along with Agent Reyes, Gibson was informing Doggett and Skinner all that Marita had said in the bedroom. As she approached them, Scully laid the set of keys in Doggett’s hand.

He gave her an intense look. “You’re gonna go back there and pack your stuff. Anything you don’t want to leave behind. You’re gonna pack like you’re never gonna come back here for the rest of your life. You understand? We don’t have a lot of time.”

Scully gave him a look of surprise.

Doggett nodded. “If we can actually pull this off, this is the first place they’re gonna come lookin’ for him. We’re gonna get Mulder out of there, and you’re going with him. Now go pack.” He then turned to his partner. “Help her, Monica.”

With a rush of gratitude for the man standing in front of her, tears pricking her eyes, Scully turned and walked quickly back to her bedroom, Monica following her. After grabbing two suitcases from her closet, she began packing her clothing as well as some clothes Mulder had left behind a year ago. Monica took a small bag to the bathroom and filled it with toiletries, before carrying it back into the bedroom and setting it down on the bed next to the suitcase.

Monica watched Scully pull a metal safety deposit box from the shelf in the closet and place it on the bed. As Scully began to peruse its contents, courtesy of the Lone Gunmen, including passports, driver’s licenses, a 9mm handgun and holster, credit cards, and Mulder’s cash, Monica stepped out to the hallway. She then made her way down to the guestroom, and opening the door, she slipped inside. On the shelf in the closet, in what had once been a nursery, was a small cardboard box containing everything of William that Scully had in the world. Monica grabbed it from the shelf and left the room.

When Scully watched her friend reenter the bedroom, she stared wide-eyed at the box, her stomach going into knots.

“You’re not leaving this behind,” Monica said matter-of-factly. She then moved over to the bed and placed the box inside one of the suitcases.

Tears filled Scully’s eyes and she nodded, but she didn’t reply. There was then a knock on the open bedroom door, and the two women turned to see Doggett standing there.

“We need to leave soon,” he said. “We shouldn’t stay here much longer. Gibson’s not safe here.”

The women nodded, and after Scully gave the room a once-over, she and Monica walked out to the living room, Doggett carrying the suitcases behind them. Scully walked over to the desk in front of the bay window, opened one of the drawers, and pulled out all the medical files on herself and Mulder as well as legal papers. She carried them over to one of the suitcases and added them to the stack of X-Files cases she’d taken from the box on the floor in her closet. As Scully turned and stared at Mulder’s fish tank, a wave of deep sadness crashed over her. This life was over, and there would be no coming back to it.

*****

Mulder lay on the hard concrete floor of his cell, staring out into the dark. He wondered how much longer he had to live, how many more days were left before he was strapped to a table and given an injection filled with a fatal dose of drugs. He wondered if he’d ever see Scully again, and started to hope that he wouldn’t. Facing his demise might be easier if she stayed away. He didn’t want to see her tears, see the look of anguish on her face. He’d done nothing but cause her pain, he’d brought nothing but misery and loss to her life. Things would’ve been so much better for her if she’d never met him. She would’ve been a mother to children who never suffered, whom she never lost. She would’ve had a much happier life, and lived out her days free from the singular pain and suffering that came with being attached to him. At least until that date loomed, the date when everyone would suffer, everyone would die. There was nothing he, or anyone could do.

The door suddenly opened, and a light shone on Mulder as he lay on the floor.

“Get up,” Doggett said.

The light continued to shine on Mulder, and he couldn’t make out who was standing behind it. “Who's there?”

Doggett lowered the flashlight and stepped forward. “I'm here with Skinner. Get up.”

“Move it, Mulder,” Skinner commanded.

At the sound of Skinner's familiar voice, he became more alert, and sat up. “What are you doing?”

Doggett walked over and grabbed hold of Mulder, helping him stand up. “We're getting you out of here. Come on.”

“You can’t do this,” Mulder protested, looking from one man to the other. “I’m not letting you risk your own lives.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not the only ones,” replied Doggett. “Let’s go. We don’t have much time. They’re coming.”

The three then quickly moved out of the cell, Skinner closing the door behind them. They made their way down several hallways as quickly and quietly as possible, Skinner unlocking each door they came to with a key given to them by Marita Covarrubias. After a couple minutes, the alarms began blaring as they come across a closed gate. Skinner took out a key and unlocked the gate, getting them to the main room leading to the prison entrance. The night duty officer was at the desk. Skinner watched for a moment, and then the guard was called away. The three men snuck past the gate without detection. On the far side of the room there was another closed gate. Skinner once again unlocked the door and then Mulder walked through it straight into Kersh.

Mulder, Skinner, and Doggett froze at the sight of the Deputy Director, uncertain of their fate.

“You're never going to make it this way,” Kersh said, looking at them. “Come on.”

He then turned around and led them to an alternate route out of the building. He’d had a meeting with Assistant Director Torrance and General Suveg just over an hour ago, where he was informed of the plan to dispose of Mulder quietly. As Torrance calmly chewed on that goddamned toothpick, smirking, Kersh had finally had enough. The four men paused as armed military guards were heading in one direction, and then Kersh led them in another direction to safety. After unlocking a rarely-used door, they were out of the prison and walking up a stone staircase leading up to the chain link fence that surrounded the Marine Corps Brig.

At the top of the stairs, Monica stood by the hole in the fence that she’d watched Kersh cut through with a large pair of side cutters. She’d been waiting by the side of the road in her vehicle when her passenger side door swung open and there was Kersh. She still couldn’t get over her shock that the Deputy Director was actually there to help them.

Monica held the fence open so the men could get out. They all then jumped into her waiting SUV, where they took off down the road, departing Quantico. After driving less than a mile, they came to the corner of Russell Road. To Mulder’s great relief, he laid eyes on Scully standing by another SUV parked on the side of the road, engine running and lights on. As soon as Monica came to a stop, Mulder swung the door open, jumping out of the car, and beelined it for Scully. She moved towards him, her heart pounding furiously, and he threw his arms around her, holding her tightly against him.

“Mulder,” she breathed as he leaned his forehead against hers, their insides flooding with both relief and fear.

They pulled apart and she handed him the black leather jacket that she’d taken from his duffel bag. As he put it on, he glanced at Gibson Praise, who’d been waiting there with Scully. Mulder then turned as the others approached them.

“Mulder?” she said, throwing her hand out to grab his wrist, eyeing the Deputy Director suspiciously.

“You've got to move out,” Kersh said.

Scully looked up at her partner. “What's he doing here?”

“What I should have done from the start,” answered Kersh. “You want to go north to Canada. Get to an airport. If you're not off the continent in 24 hours you may never get out, you understand?”

Mulder looked at those who had risked so much to help him: Skinner, Agents Doggett and Reyes, and even Kersh, who’d seemed to grow a conscience at the last minute. He could only imagine what would happen to them all once it was found out exactly how he’d escaped. “None of you will be safe now,” he told them.

“You let us worry about that,” Doggett said.

Monica nodded. “Good luck.”

Scully walked over to Monica, tears filling both their eyes, and they hugged. “I’ll never forget everything that you’ve done for me,” whispered Scully tearfully.

They pulled apart, and Monica gave her a smile. “Be safe.”

Looking from Agent Doggett to Agent Reyes, Mulder sighed. “You make sure he gets back home safely,” he said, nodding towards Gibson. “He needs to get back there as soon as possible.”

Doggett looked over at Gibson and then back to Mulder, and nodded, giving him a small reassuring smile. Turning to Gibson, Mulder and the 16 year old boy locked eyes, and a silent conversation passed between them. He could never repay Gibson for all that he’d done for him. Mulder was standing there, alive and back with Scully, because this boy had stuck by him when he’d needed someone the most. Full of indescribable gratitude, Mulder reached out and patted Gibson on the cheek, silently telling the boy that he’d see him again soon.

Mulder and Scully walked over to the waiting SUV that Skinner had taken from the fleet stationed in the FBI parking garage. In the wake of the Lone Gunmen’s death, Agent Doggett learned that he’d been bequeathed with a lot of their possessions, in the hopes that he’d “keep fighting the good fight.” One of these possessions had been a canvas bag full of license plates and fake registrations, which were now in the rear of the SUV Mulder and Scully were getting into. Gibson watched them getting into the vehicle, his eyes widening in realization.

*****

Mulder hurriedly got into the driver’s seat of the SUV as Scully climbed up into the passenger side. After turning onto Russell Road, three miles down they came to route I-95, and Mulder made a left turn to get on the highway going south. Scully noticed the road signs, and saw they were heading in the opposite direction of where she thought they were going.

“Mulder, Kersh told us to head north. You just got on a road going south.”

“That's right,” he replied, staring at the road ahead.

Scully looked over at him. “Where are you going?”

Mulder turned his head to meet her gaze. “To see a man about the truth.”

With a confused and worried look on her face, she turned back to looking out the window. Mulder didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, and Scully was almost afraid to ask him to. After merging onto I-95, he continually checked all the mirrors, looking for signs they were being followed. She kept glancing at him nervously. Scully felt that they were heading in the wrong direction; that they should’ve been heading for the Canadian border and freedom. But Mulder drove with a determined look on his face, and she kept her concerns to herself.

Soon a pervading silence filled the vehicle, neither of them speaking. Neither really knew what to say to start a conversation. So much had happened in their absence, their separation. They’d both lived through circumstances and events that the other knew very little of, and therefore they couldn’t truly understand the specific hardships they’d each endured. There was so much to say, and to tell, but neither knew how to go about it. And as Mulder drove south, the weight of the situation he and Scully now found themselves in grew heavier. The reality of what their life would now be started to sink in, and the silence only became more deafening.

After driving nearly 18 miles on I-95, Mulder took exit 130B and got off the highway, before getting onto state route 208 heading south. Scully glanced over at him, taking in his appearance.

“You need to change out of that uniform,” she told him. “The sooner the better.”

Mulder glanced down at the orange covering his body and nodded. Slowing down, he soon pulled over to the side of the road, and unlocked his seat belt. “You drive for a while,” he said to her as he opened the car door. “We shouldn’t stop until we are at least out of Virginia. You can drive while I put on some clothes.”

Scully nodded and got out of the vehicle, walking around to the driver’s side. Mulder grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from his duffel bag in the back as well as a pair of boxer briefs, before walking quickly to the front passenger seat, getting back in the SUV. Putting the left turn signal on, Scully then drove back onto the road. Mulder kicked off the plain white prison sneakers, removed his leather jacket, and pulled the orange top over his head, tossing it onto the floor in the back seat. With a slightly awkward glance at Scully, he then lifted his hips up off the seat and pulled down the orange pants.

Mulder was then sitting naked in the passenger seat. Scully looked over at him and they locked eyes. She then glanced down at his naked body, butterflies filling her stomach, before quickly turning back to staring at the road in front of them. Mulder leaned over, grabbing for the boxer briefs, and noticed Scully’s knuckles on the steering wheel had gone white. He smirked slightly, pulling the boxer briefs up his legs, before doing the same with the pair of blue jeans. After he pulled the black t-shirt over his head and slipped the leather jacket back on, he buckled his seat belt and leaned back against the seat, adjusting the side view mirror so he could watch the road behind them.

After driving 42 miles, state route 208 merged with highway I-64, and they headed west for 56 miles until they came to I-81, which would take them south and out of Virginia. At a highway rest area, they made a brief stop to fill the gas tank and use the restrooms. Mulder then got back in the driver’s seat and as Scully glanced at the clock on the dash while she buckled her seat belt, noting the time was 1:04 am, she wondered how long it would take before they reached whatever place Mulder wanted to go.

As Mulder pulled back onto highway I-81, Scully turned to look at him. “So where’s this man you want to talk to?”

“In New Mexico,” he replied.

Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open slightly. “We’re going to drive all the way to New Mexico? It’ll take at least two days to get there. You heard what Kersh said. We only have 24 hours to get out of North America.”

Mulder sighed. “I know what Kersh said, Scully. This is more important.” He had to find out if what he’d learned at Mount Weather was final, whether anything could be done about it.

She shook her head, and looked out the window. She couldn’t think of what would be more important than their lives. Her thoughts then turned to her family, and she closed her eyes, sighing. “I haven’t even spoken to my mother in three days. I certainly can’t call her and tell her I’m all right.” Scully sighed again as she stared out the window, and whispered almost to herself. “She’ll be so worried.”

Turning to glance at her, a wave of guilt flooded Mulder’s stomach, making him feel sick. He could picture the military pounding on the door of Maggie Scully’s home, demanding to know where her daughter was and if she’d heard from her. Maybe those bastards would shake her up, or take her into custody. They’d do the same to Charlie and Jennifer, disrupt their lives and terrify their children. But it might not have to be that way. It was only Scully’s association with him that ever put her in any danger or trouble. She could be spared much hardship as well as her family if he were to make a decision, one that wouldn’t be easy, but it might be necessary. Mulder’s heart broke, and tears pricked his eyes. For the next 330 miles he drove in near silence, and the closer they got to Knoxville, the more determined he became to see that painful decision through.

*****

Eight and half hours after leaving their friends behind in Quantico, Virginia, they were driving into Knoxville, Tennessee at 8:00 am on Saturday, February 16th. Exiting the highway, Mulder quickly found the Sunbeam Motel and pulled into the parking lot. Scully walked into the main office and rented a room for one night, paying cash and giving a fake name. After she was given two keys to room 19, Mulder drove through the lot to park in front of it. Gathering one suitcase and the duffel bag from the back of the vehicle, they made their way inside the room.

Scully sat on the queen-sized bed and quietly watched Mulder walk back inside the motel room, the orange prison uniform in his hands. He removed the plastic bag from the metal garbage can underneath the dark cherry desk and then threw the clothing inside the bag, tying it into a knot. He then walked back out, heading for the dumpster in the parking lot. Spotting a payphone, he crossed the lot and wade his way towards it, before making a phone call. As Mulder returned to the motel room door, he hesitated, and his stomach knotted even further. He wanted to put off the inevitable conversation, but he knew he had to do it right away.

Sighing, Scully stood up from the bed and walked over to her suitcase, zippering it open. She contemplated taking a shower before trying to get some sleep. She then rolled her eyes. As if she’d ever be able to sleep right now. Her mind was nowhere close to shutting down, and she felt like her heart would beat right out of her chest. What if the military found them there? What if Mulder was killed? What if they were both going to die there? _How fitting_ , she thought, chuckling darkly. Stale, impersonal motel rooms seemed to be their lot in life.

The motel room door opened once again, and Scully looked up to see Mulder walk back inside. His expression was serious, and somber. He’d been mostly quiet since they’d taken off together, and had seemed lost in thought. Almost every time she’d looked over at him, he’d refrained from making eye contact. She knew they had a lot to talk about. The year they’d spent separated seemed to hang in the air between them, creating a tension so thick it choked back their words. Personal things needed to be seriously discussed and dealt with, which wasn’t something that had always come easy for them. To Scully, it now seemed more difficult than ever.

Mulder shut the door and locked it, before moving over to the large window and closing the curtains. The room darkened, and only scant rays of sunshine peaked out from around the edges of the red window covering. He then stepped over to the desk against the wall and sat in the chair, as Scully stood and once again sat on the edge of the bed, looking at him expectantly and waiting for him to say something.

He averted his eyes from hers and bent over in the chair, his elbows going to his knees, his fingers entwining. “We need to talk about what we’re going to do now.”

Taking in his posture, Scully’s stomach knotted with a growing sense of dread. “I thought we were going to New Mexico.”

Pausing briefly, he swallowed, and after steeling himself he sat up straighter and looked directly at her. “I need to go to New Mexico… but you don’t.”

“What does that mean?” Scully asked, but a voice in the back of her mind already had an idea, was already coming to a realization of what he was trying to do.

“I’m the one with criminal charges, I’m the one who’s in trouble,” Mulder said. “You’re only in trouble as long as you stay with me. It’s always been that way, I guess.” He sighed. “But it doesn’t have to be that way anymore. I can put an end to it. Right now.”

Her eyes widened, her stomach bottoming out. “Mulder…”

He shook his head. “No, you have to listen to me. I don’t think you realize what this life is like. I know what it’s done to me. I don’t want that for you. You deserve better. You have a career, and a family to think about.”

Her mouth fell open, tears welling up in her eyes, as she stared at him. “You’re… you’re leaving me?” She knew it. She’d known it all along. Scully felt the memory of William and what she’d done drift in the air between them, a violation of their trust, a fracture in their hearts. Things between them would never be the same, and he could never forgive it, not really. And now he wanted to get away from her.

Mulder couldn’t stand the shocked and hurt look come over her face, and abruptly stood up from the chair, pacing over to stand in front of the wall, crossing his arms defensively. “I’ve already made my decision. You’re gonna go to the Knoxville airport and get on the next flight back home. The plane leaves at 9:45 this morning and you’ll be in Washington at 11:15. You’re going to go straight to your mother’s house, and stay there. When they come and ask you questions, you’ll convince them that you were in no way involved with my escape and you can honestly tell them that you have no idea what my plans are or where I was going.”

Scully stood up from the bed, staring at him wide-eyed, unable to really believe what was coming out of his mouth. “You’re ditching me? So that’s it, then? Just forget about you and me? I mean, what, Mulder? I’m just never going to see you again?”

“How can I do this to you, and to your mother and brothers?” he asked emphatically, his hands going to his hips. “The danger we’ll be in… How can I put you through this? How can I put your family through it? I’ve done more than enough damage to you, and to them. It’s better if you stay as far away from me as possible.”

Anger blazed up in her, flooding Scully’s insides like molten lava. She took a few determined steps forward, drew back her hand, and slapped Mulder so hard across his face he had to take a step back to keep his balance. His face turned red, and his eyes registered shock.

“Scully!”

She hit him hard a second time before he could fully regain his composure. “You’re going to _leave me?_ Again?!”

The devastation that Mulder’s departure over a year ago had inflicted on her life now claimed every emotion, leaving no room for any feeling other than the guilt and anger she felt over their loss. Scully then began pummeling Mulder with her hands, slapping him about the face and ears, and he was forced to throw his arms up in an effort to protect himself.

“Scully, stop it!” he shouted, trying to stave off further attack, but her hands kept bashing about wherever they could reach. Mulder then planted his feet and grabbed her arms, forcing them down and away from him, but she kept fighting. “You have to understand. I can’t do this to you, to your mom. This isn’t what I want for you.”

“You selfish asshole!” she yelled, adrenaline rushing through her system.

“Scully, would you please just calm down?” Mulder entreated, trying hard to restrain her arms as she fought against him.

Her anger blazed, and she wrenched her right arm free from his grip, before continuing to strike him as she shouted. “Calm down? You have _no idea_ what I’ve been through! What good has ever come from us separating? What have I to go back home to? _Nothing!_ I have _nothing_ except you!”

Mulder quickly grabbed hold of her, his momentum causing them to lose their balance, and they fell to the carpeted floor with a thud that matched the pounding in their hearts. Scully continued to struggle as he tried to grab hold of her arms as she pounded his chest. Mulder rolled them over until she was pinned beneath him, and his hands caught her wrists, restraining them beside her head. She tried to wrench her hands from his strong grip, but was unsuccessful.

He pressed his face into her neck, and sighed, still holding her wrists down to the carpet. Scully’s emotions were overwrought. Mulder was too strong and no match for her, and she gave up trying to free herself. Their breath was coming in shallow gasps, and a flame was beginning to lick along their veins. They lay there, taking deep breaths, the conflict and tension beginning to fade.

Gradually, they both became aware of the erection he was suddenly pressing into her hip. Mulder lifted himself up slightly and looked down at Scully, searching her face. Passion rose and the air in the room became charged. She opened her mouth to say something, but it was instantly forgotten when his mouth crashed down upon hers. Claiming, dominating, his deep kisses and probing tongue aroused all of her senses as he held her immobile, and her body flooded with desire. Fire swept through her as hot desire pooled at her center. She’d been alone too long, too long without him, too long craving the feeling of being desired and loved.

Mulder finally released her wrists and sat up on his knees, his hands immediately going to her blouse and ripping it open, sending buttons scattering about the floor. After the blouse was tossed aside, Scully unfastened her bra and it too was thrown away. Mulder then unbuttoned the waistband of her black pants and pulled down the zipper, before hooking his thumbs and quickly pulling them down and off her legs. Scully sat up and reached for his black t-shirt, frantically pulling it up his torso and then off his head.

Laying them back down so that he was once again on top of her, Mulder brought one hand to his jeans, which were then soon freed and pushed down to his ankles. Hungrily he separated her legs with his knee as Scully’s mouth sought his, pushing her tongue inside. Mulder gasped in ecstasy; his body was on fire. Pulling the crotch of her panties to the side, he freed the erection from his boxers with his other hand, and taking hold of his hard cock, he guided it to her entrance, pushing its full length into the tight, wet heat of her cunt.

He nearly sobbed in relief, having dreamed and hoped for this too many times to count over the past year. She felt his thick length completely fill her, to the core of her being, felt the thatch of his chest hair gently rubbing against her breasts, and tears pricked her eyes. They thrust against each other in a fast synchronized rhythm as Mulder moaned her name over and over.

Scully soon felt her climax building inside her, her muscles beginning to contract with increasing tension as the small bundle of nerves at her center throbbed, and she held onto Mulder even tighter, her arms and legs locking around him, and tried to meet his hard thrusts with strong ones of her own. Their bodies grew slick with sweat, and the scent of their arousal permeated the air around them. Finally, Scully’s tension burst, her muscles spasming and clenching around him, and she cried out in ecstasy. Her climax sent Mulder over the edge, as waves of pleasure crashed over him, streaking out along his spine and down his legs, and he was coming, crying out her name.

They lay there, breathing heavily, hearts pounding, and tears filled Scully’s eyes, brimming over. “I’m sorry, Mulder,” she cried, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

He knew she wasn’t talking about the fight. Immediately Mulder began crying into her shoulder. “It’s my fault,” he said, choking on his sobs. “It’s all my fault. I never should’ve left you. I shouldn’t have stayed away so long. I should’ve come back sooner.”

They held onto each other even tighter, and cried for their son until they couldn’t cry anymore, until no more tears would come, neither knowing which decisions they would ever regret more, his or hers.


	121. "Maybe there's hope."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully continue their journey to New Mexico, where they both learn some truths.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.
> 
> Disclaimer: Dialog from "The Truth" doesn't belong to me, I didn't write it. It was written by Chris Carter, and it belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plumb - "Don't Deserve You"
> 
> You're the first face that I see  
> And the last thing I think about  
> You're the reason that I'm alive  
> You're what I can't live without  
> You're what I can't live without
> 
> You never give up  
> When I'm falling apart  
> Your arms are always open wide  
> And you're quick to forgive  
> When I make a mistake  
> You love me in the blink of an eye
> 
> I don't deserve your love  
> But you give it to me anyway  
> Can't get enough  
> You're everything I need  
> And when I walk away  
> You take off running and come right after me  
> It's what you do  
> And I don't deserve you
> 
> You're the light inside my eyes  
> You give me a reason to keep trying  
> You give me more than I could dream  
> And you bring me to my knees  
> You bring me to my knees
> 
> Your heart is gold and how am I the one  
> That you've chosen to love  
> I still can't believe that you're right next to me  
> After all that I've done
> 
> I don't deserve your love  
> But you give it to me anyway  
> Can't get enough  
> You're everything I need  
> And when I walk away  
> You take off running and come right after me  
> It's what you do  
> And I don't deserve you
> 
> I don't deserve a chance like this  
> I don't deserve a love that gives me everything  
> You're everything I want
> 
> I don't deserve your love  
> But you give it to me anyway  
> Can't get enough  
> You're everything I need  
> And when I walk away  
> You take off running and come right after me  
> It's what you do  
> And I don't deserve you  
> And I don't deserve you

Mulder lifted himself up and looked down into Scully’s tearstained face. With a gentle hand, he wiped her tears away as she brought her own hand to his face, doing the same.

“I can’t live without you,” she whispered, gazing at him. She felt ridiculous and embarrassed for saying so, as if those words made her out to be weak. But she didn’t avert her eyes, wanting him to understand just how much she needed him.

“Yes, you can,” he said softly, still caressing her face with the backs of his fingers.

Scully swallowed against the lump in her throat. “But I don’t want to.”

He nodded sadly. “I don’t want to either.” Mulder then bent his head down towards her, kissing her softly, tenderly, before breaking the kiss and nuzzling her cheek.

“Don’t leave me,” whispered Scully.

Mulder sighed. “I won’t.”

She still wasn’t satisfied. “ _Promise me_ you won’t ever leave me.”

“I promise,” he said, his face serious, his eyes locked on hers, needing her to believe him. “What I said… about going to the airport, going home… just forget what I said. I’m not going to leave you again. Ever.”

Scully waited for him to demand the same promise back from her, demand that she never leave him, that she’ll stay with him always. He didn’t.

“We should get up off the floor,” he said with a groan.

She sighed, which then turned into a yawn. He smirked slightly, and then pushed off the floor, lifting himself up and off of Scully. After removing his blue jeans that had pooled at his ankles along with his socks and then his gray boxer briefs, he reached over towards Scully and pulled her cotton underwear down and off her legs as she sat up. Then he stood, helping her up from the carpeted floor.

“Let’s get cleaned up,” Mulder said.

Scully nodded, and after grabbing her toiletry bag from the suitcase, he walked the both of them towards the bathroom, his hands never leaving her waist. After he turned on the hot water, they stepped inside the tub and he closed the shower curtain. Thankfully the water pressure was perfect, and they both stood underneath the shower head for a minute, allowing its soothing warmth to wash over them.

Grabbing the bottle of shampoo, Mulder noticed small red abrasions on the ivory skin of her back and her hips. “Rug burns,” he said quietly.

“Haven’t had those since college,” she quipped, turning to face him as he started to lather shampoo in his hair.

Mulder’s eyes widened and his brows knitted in surprise as Scully smirked, dispensing some shampoo into her palm. Once they were clean, they stepped out of the shower, and he grabbed two plain white bath towels from the rack. After drying off, they walked back out to the room, where Mulder threw on a clean pair of boxers and Scully wrapped herself in her robe.

“One of us needs to stay awake,” he said to her, sighing and looking around the room.

“You should sleep, Mulder,” Scully replied.

He sighed again, and looked at the bed. He hadn’t slept in a bed in weeks, and it looked so very inviting, but he hesitated. He should stay up. They needed to stay vigilant. Knoxville really wasn’t all that far from Quantico, and knowing that Scully’s life was also at risk only increased his anxiety.

“I can sleep in the car whenever we leave,” she said, watching him think things over, her stomach beginning to tighten again with worry. “You drove all night long. You _need_ to sleep. I’ll keep awake.”

Mulder didn’t reply, and merely nodded before turning down the green and blue paisley comforter on the bed and getting underneath it. Scully turned on the television, and keeping the volume down low, switched the channel to CNN, and sat down in the chair in front of the desk. After watching the screen for several minutes, Mulder’s eyelids became heavy, and he was soon fast asleep.

Scully quietly got up from the chair and picked her clothes up from the floor, gathering the ripped blouse and scattered buttons, tossing them into the garbage can. She then got dressed, pulling on a clean pair of navy blue pants and a white short-sleeved blouse. After grabbing her firearm, leaving its holster behind in the suitcase, she carried the chair over to the window and sat next to it, occasionally lifting the red curtain to peek outside into the parking lot.

Hours later, Mulder opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, blinking himself awake. He turned his head to the left and stared at the digital bedside clock, telling him it was 4:36 pm. He’d slept for about seven hours. He hadn’t planned on sleeping that long. Mulder turned to his right and gazed across the bed over at Scully, who was perched in the wooden desk chair, sitting side by side with the wall next to the window, holding her weapon in her lap.

Feeling eyes on her, Scully looked over at him, giving him a small smile.

“I didn’t want to sleep so much,” Mulder said groggily, sitting up in bed. “We should’ve left Knoxville by now.”

She felt the knot in her stomach start to loosen at his use of the ‘we’ pronoun, believing that he’d completely changed his mind about sending her home. “Your body knows what it needs.” She paused at the look he was now giving her, with its suggestive smirk, and she swallowed before continuing. “And you clearly needed sleep.”

He nodded, groaning a bit as he moved off the mattress. “We should pack up our stuff and go. As quickly as possible.” He then turned and glanced at the television screen, which was still on CNN. “Has anything been said about an escape from the Marine Corps Brig?”

Scully shook her head. She’d kept it on the national news channel, wanting to know if Mulder’s escape would be reported on or not. It hadn’t been. “No. Not a word. Were you expecting it to be on the news?”

“They wouldn’t want this public,” he replied. “Then everything else would’ve become public; the trial, Knowle Rohrer, all of it. They don’t want that.”

Mulder then walked into the bathroom, and shut the door. After he’d dressed and they’d brushed their teeth, before packing the small toiletry bag away, Mulder and Scully grabbed their bags and walked out the motel room door at 5:00 pm. Driving over to the main office, she turned in their room keys and checked out. Once she got back into the passenger seat of the SUV, they made their way onto highway I-40, heading west towards Nashville. Turning to sit slightly sideways towards the window, leaning her head back against the seat, Scully was soon asleep.

After driving for nearly 180 miles, they were approaching Nashville at 7:45 pm. Seeing a rest area up ahead, Mulder slowed down and pulled off the highway. Scully woke up with a sigh and sat up in the seat.

“We’re stopping?” she asked as she looked out the window at other travelers getting in or out of their vehicles.

“Yeah, I’m starving,” he replied, giving her a small smile.

She nodded, and at the thought of food her stomach started growling. He looked over and gave her a knowing smile. Inside the rest area building was a McDonald’s along with a few other places grouped together in the style of a shopping mall’s food court. They stepped up to the counter, where Mulder ordered a burger and fries while Scully got a salad. After sitting down at a nearby table, he eventually noticed that some other patrons at another table kept staring at Scully and whispering. Mulder’s stomach knotted.

“What? What is it?” Scully asked with knitted brows.

He leaned to the side, and looked over at her, trying to figure out what it was about Scully that had gotten those people to take such a keen interest in her. And there it was. Her navy blue suit jacket had ridden up and gotten tucked behind her holster when she’d sat down. The men and two women at the other table were staring at her gun.

“Scully, pull your jacket down,” Mulder said quietly.

Her eyes widened, and her hand flew down to her side, fixing her jacket so as to cover her hip. They quickly finished eating and left the building, getting back into the SUV. They then drove back onto highway I-40, heading west. Three hours and 15 minutes later, they arrived in Memphis around 11:30 pm, where Mulder made a brief stop to fill the gas tank. At 1:38 am, they drove into Little Rock, Arkansas. In the middle of the city, Mulder exited the highway and soon found the Super 7 Inn nearby. Once again, Scully walked into the main office and rented a room, asking for one on the ground floor off the parking lot, paid $40 cash and gave a fake name. She was then given two keys to room 12. Once they’d found the room and parked in front of it, Mulder went about switching out the license plates with a different pair from the Gunmen’s canvas bag and retrieving the coinciding registration that matched. Again, Mulder slept in the bed. And again, Scully perched herself by the window, remaining awake and watchful.

Sunday, February 17th, proved not much different from Saturday. At 10:00 am, Mulder and Scully checked out of the motel and got back onto highway 1-40, departing Little Rock. After a few stops along the way for food and gas, they arrived in Amarillo, Texas around 8:00 pm. There another motel room was rented so that Mulder could get some sleep after nine hours of driving. But being so close to New Mexico, he wanted to get back on the road as soon as possible and set the alarm for 5:00 am. Once again, he awoke to the sight of Scully sitting steadfastly in a chair, using her gun to lift the curtain away from the window for a glance outside to the parking lot. The sight filled Mulder with a deep sense of sadness, but also a sense of reverence for this irreplaceable woman, for the love and loyalty she bestowed on him, something he felt he was in no way deserving of.

*****

On Monday, Mulder and Scully left Amarillo behind at 5:40 am and drove west on I-40 towards New Mexico. About an hour later they reached the Texas-New Mexico border just as the sun started to rise. Mulder glanced down at the clock on the dash, noting the 6:47 glowing back at him, before pulling off to the side of the road. He cut the engine and looked at Scully, who was asleep in the passenger seat, and leaned towards her, gently kissing her cheek.

He then got out of the car and walked a short distance away from the road, before unzipping his jeans and relieving himself.

“Hey, hot shot!” Frohike called out. “You might have the common courtesy of doing your business there downwind.”

“Oh, boy,” Mulder groaned, turning to see the Lone Gunmen standing there. Of course. Of fucking course. Whatever had been happening to him in prison, the visitations he’d received, he’d held out some hope that they had been merely hallucinations, even though he knew that probably wasn’t likely. Not after he’d been handed that piece of paper with Marita Covarrubias’ address.

Langly crossed his arms. “Why don't you just finish draining the little lizard and then we'll talk?”

“We're very worried about you,” Byers said, and Mulder thought his tone matched that of a concerned parent.

"You were on the road to freedom, your beautiful lady at your side,” Frohike said. “It's craziness, man. Turn around.”

Langly nodded. “Just hang a big U-ey and never look back.”

Mulder shook his head. “I can't.”

“Why risk perfect happiness, Mulder?” asked Byers. “Why risk your lives?”

“Because I need to know the truth,” he replied.

Byers gave him a look. “You already know the truth.”

Mulder thought about that for a moment, thought of the date, the impending invasion, the horror that the future held in store. “I need to know if I can change it,” he said honestly.

Langly’s eyes widened. “Change it?”

“For crying out loud,” said Frohike. “All you're going to do is get yourself killed.”

Scully awoke, realizing the vehicle was no longer moving, and looked over at the driver’s seat. It was empty. Her stomach immediately knotted, but when she looked up, she saw Mulder standing outside. It seemed as though he was just staring off into space. She then got out of the SUV and walked around it, calling out to him.

“Mulder! What are you doing?”

He turned and looked at her. “I'll be right with you, Scully.”

They both then got back into the vehicle. At 10:00 am they were driving into Albuquerque. Mulder reached out and gently caressed Scully’s face with the back of his fingers, waking her from sleep. They then stopped to fill the gas tank and grab something to eat. Inside the gas station, Mulder purchased a New Mexico state road map and located the place they needed to get to, before handing the map over to Scully. After getting onto highway I-25, heading north, Mulder took exit 242 and got onto state route 550, which would take them north to Navajo land and Chaco Canyon.

Mulder kept both hands at the wheel, and his foot to the floor. The SUV sped quickly on, and the farther north they went, the fewer vehicles they saw on the road. In the passenger seat, Scully studied the road map, now and then looking out the window at the desert surrounding them. They drove on, the sun moving slowly across the sky until it hung directly above them, a crimson disc warming the desert’s winter landscape.

Scully turned to look at Mulder. “So what is the plan? I mean, after you speak with… this man you need to see, what then? What are we going to do? You must have an idea.”

He hesitated, glancing at her and tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel. “I guess… it all depends on what he tells me.”

She stared at him, waiting for an explanation, but Mulder refused to meet her gaze. Scully rolled down her window, breathing in the desert, and said nothing more. There was a cool nip in the winter air, the temperature hovering below 70o, and the earth smelled like a campfire, and like dust just after a rain. Dirt flared up around them as they drove, and she pushed the button to send the window back up. As they drove further north, Scully often nervously glanced at the relentlessly determined expression on Mulder’s face.

At 2:00 pm, Mulder turned off route 550 and onto a dirt road, driving through Chaco Canyon. After about 10 minutes, the road came to a large hidden pueblo ruin carved into the side of the canyon’s enormous rock wall. This location had been the only one in Chaco Canyon on the list of ancient pueblos Valerie Hosteen had made for Mulder months earlier. He only hoped this was the one Eric Hosteen and his friends had been referring to as housing “the wise man.”

After stopping the car, Mulder and Scully both got out. He immediately laid eyes on an upper window in one of the rooms, and felt confident this was the right place.

She looked around in amazement, and turned to her partner. “What are they?”

“Pueblos,” he answered. “Anasazi Indian. Abandoned 2,000 years ago. Nobody knows why.”

“Yeah, Mulder, but what are we doing here?” Scully asked, in a tone that belied her increasing frustration at not knowing what was going on.

He pointed high to the window he’d seen upon getting out of the SUV. She followed his line of sight and saw smoke coming out from it. Someone must be up there. Mulder then headed off in that direction, Scully following. They both began to climb wooden ladders at each level, making their way up to the pueblo from which the smoke was coming from. Reaching the pueblo, Mulder and Scully walked inside, finding an old Native American woman tending to a fire.

“Hello. My name is Fox Mulder.” The woman only stared at him. “Do you understand me?” he asked.

The old woman looked at Mulder for a moment, and then without a word, she rose from her chair and pushed the fabric curtain back, revealing a passageway, and disappeared behind it. Scully moved up from behind Mulder and walked past him, stepping closer to the curtain-covered opening, gazing at it. She then turned around and looked at him.

“Mulder, what is it?”

“I was sent a message and a key to the government facility at Mount Weather,” he replied. “The Indians said it was from a wise man who lived in the ruins: A Keeper of the Truth.”

The old woman returned and motioned for Mulder and Scully to follow her. They then made their way through the narrow passageway beyond the curtained entrance. At the end of the passage, it opened up into a living space, where an old man with long wisps of white hair sat there waiting for them. Mulder stepped into the room first, and his eyes widened in shock, unable to believe what he was seeing. Scully followed him and stared at the man for a moment before fully realizing just what she was looking at.

“What's the matter, Mulder?” he asked, taking a drag of a cigarette through the hole in his trachea. “You come to see the wise man but you look as if you've seen a ghost.”

“You're no wise man,” Mulder said, his voice full of derision. “You're a dead man. Just like Krycek and X.”

He turned to look at Mulder’s partner. “You see a dead man, Agent Scully?”

She glared at him. “I hoped and prayed you were dead, you chain-smoking son of a bitch.”

Mulder was still shocked to see Cancer Man alive. He’d been sick and dying the last time he’d laid eyes on the man, and that was two years ago.

“You waste your time,” he said to her. “Ask Mulder. He knows the futility of hopes and prayers. He knows the truth now.”

Scully felt confused at what the Smoking Man was saying, not understanding what this was about, and looked questioningly at her partner.

He immediately zeroed in on her ignorance, on the obvious fact that Mulder had kept her in the dark, and decided to easily exploit it. “You have told her the truth, haven't you, Fox? I helped you find it.”

“You didn't help me,” Mulder said, his tone accusatory. “You sent me to that government facility knowing exactly what I'd find.”

“And now you refuse to speak it,” he replied. “Not to Scully, not to anyone. You've even refused to testify what you learned, even though it would have saved your life. You damned me for my secrets, but you're afraid to speak the truth.” He took another drag from his cigarette through the trach tube.  

Hatred filled Mulder’s insides, and he looked on his biological father with disgust and contempt. “You call me afraid? Look at you sitting here alone in the dark like a fossil.”

He exhaled a puff of smoke around him. “It's the final refuge. The last place to hide from those who are insidiously taking power now.”

“Who?” Scully asked, unsure whether they should really believe anything this man had to say.

“The aliens. They fear this place… its geology. Magnetite, like that which brought down the original UFO in Roswell. Indian wise men realized this over 2,000 years ago. They hid here and watched their own culture die. The Original Shadow Government.” He watched them, taking another drag from his cigarette. “It leaves me to tell you what Mulder's afraid to, Agent Scully.”

Mulder’s stomach bottomed out, and he turned towards her, placing a hand on her arm. “Come on, let's go.”

Scully didn’t budge, and gave Cancer Man a steely glare.

“It's a scary story,” he said amusedly, briefly remembering sitting across from her at that dinner table, of the elegant black dress he’d bought her. “You want to come sit on my lap?”

“You don't scare me,” she spat back.

His expression hardened. “My story's scared every president since Truman in '47.”

Disappointment filled Mulder, knowing that there was no answer, that it’d been pointless to come there, that there was no hope at all. He didn’t want Scully to know. “You don't have to hear this.”

“No, I want to hear it, Mulder,” she said to him, before turning back to face the Smoking Man.

“Ten centuries ago the Mayans were so afraid that their calendar stopped on the exact date that my story begins,” he told her. “December 22, the year 2012. The date of the final alien invasion. Mulder can confirm the date. He saw it at Mount Weather, where our own Secret Government will be hiding when it all comes down.”

Scully looked at her partner, needing to know if this was really true.

Mulder didn’t take his eyes off Cancer Man, who had a wild gleam in his eyes, and looked almost crazed. “Yeah, you smile, feeling drunk with power. The power to do _nothing.”_

“My power comes from telling you,” he replied, hatred for both the man and woman standing in front of him surging through his veins. “Seeing your powerlessness hearing it.”

Sighing, Mulder bent his head and looked at the floor, before closing his eyes.

“They wanted to kill you, Fox,” the Smoking Man continued. “I protected you all these years, waiting for this moment… to see you broken. Afraid.”

Mulder looked up and masked his face to reveal nothing. He wasn’t going to give that bastard the satisfaction at knowing just how much pain the truth caused him.

“Now you can die,” he concluded hatefully.

With one last hard look, Mulder turned to leave the room, but Scully remained standing there, looking at Cancer Man with disgust. He smirked at her coldly. Noticing she hadn’t moved to follow him, Mulder turned back and gently grasped her arm, inching closer to her. “Come on, let’s go,” he whispered, and she gazed up at him.

The Smoking Man stared at Mulder’s hand on Scully’s arm, the whispered intimacy between them, and his anger blazed. “I gave you the power to fight, the power to save mankind. Did you know that, Agent Scully?”

She and Mulder sharply turned to stare at him, but neither replied.

“I gave you the key to everything, mankind’s only hope, and you threw it away,” the Smoking Man said to her resentfully. “It could’ve been my legacy. _But you gave up._ And now you can watch the world burn, knowing you’re the cause.”

“What?” breathed Scully, her brows knitting. Mulder stared at him, and then looked to his partner, remembering a vague conversation he’d had with Cancer Man about his so-called ‘legacy.’

He took another drag from his cigarette and fixed her with a smug look. “Didn’t you ever find out how it was that you got pregnant?” he asked with veiled innocence.

Scully swallowed, wondering if he really was behind it, if there was any truth to the things Jeffrey Spender had told her. But the Smoking Man’s words seemed to somewhat contradict them, at least what his father’s apparent motives had been. Mulder’s eyes widened, and anger blazing, he made to lunge for the old man, but Scully moved in front of him, throwing her hands up against his chest. “He’s not worth it! We should go.”

“Listen to her, Mulder. You couldn’t possibly do anything worse to me than you haven’t already done to yourselves.”

She moved away from him, grabbing Mulder by the hand and turning towards the passageway. With a disgusted glance at the hateful man sitting there watching them with a self-satisfied smirk, she then looked up at Mulder. “Let’s just leave him here to rot.”

He grasped her hand tight, gave the Smoking Man one last blazing contemptuous look, and allowed Scully to lead him back down the narrow passageway. They passed the old Native American woman, still tending to the fire, and made their way back outside. Mulder immediately laid eyes on two other people he hadn’t expected to see.

“Agent Doggett!”

“Mulder, get out of there!” Doggett called up to him.

“They know where you are!” Monica shouted.

Mulder and Scully hurriedly climbed their way down the wooden ladders, making their way back down to ground level. Suddenly their SUV pulled up next to them, Doggett and Monica sitting in the front seats, and Mulder ran up alongside it.

“Get out of here!” he shouted.

Doggett grasped the steering wheel tighter. “Get in the car.”

He shook his head, and Doggett gave him a confused look. They didn’t have much time before the cavalry arrived, but Mulder was insistent. He didn’t want to risk making Agents Doggett and Reyes targets, too. “Go! Go!”

Mulder and Scully both ran to the other vehicle, a black SUV. They had no idea who it belonged to, but they quickly jumped in and thankfully found the keys still in the ignition. Mulder started the engine, and they took off in the opposite direction of Doggett and Monica, driving around the curve of the canyon wall, the pueblo ruins disappearing from view behind them.

*****

Eventually driving out of the dirt roads through the canyon, Mulder and Scully came to a three-way junction with a highway about 28 miles from the ruins. There was nothing but desert for miles all around, they were literally in the middle of nowhere. But parked in an SUV off to the side of the junction, where county road 7750 met state route 371, were Agents Doggett and Reyes. Mulder pulled up behind them, and then all four exited the vehicles, quickly grouping together.

“Were you followed?” Doggett asked them.

Both Mulder and Scully shook their heads. “You?” he asked.

“We saw black helicopters make their way to the pueblo,” Monica replied. “We heard explosions.”

“So did we,” said Scully. Mulder nodded.

Monica gave her a small smile of acknowledgment. “But then nothing. We drove out of the canyon and came up here to the closest highway. No sign of helicopters or other vehicles.”

Doggett smirked. “We saw some ferrets and lizards, though.”

“Where’s Gibson?” Mulder asked them, his hands going to his hips and shuffling his feet anxiously.

“We took him by helicopter to a town called Shiprock,” Agent Doggett answered. “Gibson had us take him to the home of someone called Michael Hosteen.”

Mulder heaved a sigh of relief, closing his eyes. Scully reached out and laid a reassuring hand on his back, and he felt the warmth of her hand through his white t-shirt.

Agent Reyes looked between them. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah,” Scully replied, nodding in the affirmative. “Gibson will be safe there.”

“You guys should keep Knowle Rohrer’s SUV, there,” Doggett said, nodding towards the black vehicle.

Scully and Mulder’s eyes widened. “Knowle Rohrer?” she asked. “He was there?”

Monica nodded. “He came to the ruin, but something happened to him. Just like what you said happened to Shadow Man. He just… flew into the rock wall and exploded.”

The two former FBI agents exchanged an intense look, Scully dropping her hand from Mulder’s back, each wondering about Knowle Rohrer’s apparent resurrection in the New Mexico desert, wondering just who or what had sent him, wondering what that meant for the criminal charges against Mulder.

“The FBI knows one of their fleet vehicles is missing from headquarters,” said Doggett. “So let’s grab your stuff out of this one, and load up your new ride.”

Both Doggett and Mulder each grabbed one of Scully’s suitcases from the back of the tan-colored SUV, while Monica grabbed the duffel and Scully took the Gunmen’s canvas bag. The luggage was transferred into the black vehicle, where Mulder took a set of new license plates and matching registration from the canvas bag, replacing the existing ones on the car.

The four of them then stood next to the SUV. Mulder shook Agent Doggett’s hand, thanking him, while Monica gave Scully a hug, telling her to look out for herself. With a goodbye to Mulder, Monica began walking back over to the tan vehicle. Doggett and Scully locked eyes, and he gave her a small smile, nodding his head towards her. He then glanced at Mulder, before turning to walk away.

Scully felt tears prick her eyes, and she walked after him. “John?”

“Yeah, Dana?” he said, turning around to face her.

A lump grew in her throat as she stepped closer to him, and drew him into a hug. Doggett sighed and wrapped one arm around her. “You’ll never know how much you mean to me,” Scully said, her voice thick with emotion.

“Oh, I think I do,” Doggett said, smiling. “If how much you mean to me is any indication.”

She chuckled through her tears. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

He patted her on the back, feeling the weight of such a statement, unable to think of a reply.

“I want you to know,” Doggett whispered. “I’m gonna do everything in my power to make things better for you somehow. This isn’t over. We’re gonna fight those charges on Mulder. We’re gonna make sure this thing doesn’t get buried.”

Scully pulled out of the hug. “It’s too risky. Don’t put yourself in the middle of it.”

Doggett nodded, acknowledging her concern. “I already am in the middle. I’ve been in the middle of it since the day I met you. But don’t you worry about me. You just worry about taking care of yourself.” Out of his back pocket, he pulled out a silver Nokia cell phone along with a rolled-up battery charger cord and placed them in her hand. “This comes courtesy of the Lone Gunmen collection. Only myself, Monica, and AD Skinner know the phone number. If we learn of anything that might help you come home, or… warn you, if necessary, one of us will give you a call from a secure line.”

She sighed and looked down at the phone in her palm, feeling a sense of relief. “Thank you.”

With a look at Mulder, who was standing by their vehicle and waiting quietly, Doggett nodded and turned to join Monica. Scully then walked quickly back to Mulder, and they got into Knowle Rohrer’s black SUV. Both Doggett and Mulder then turned left onto state route 317, where they raced on for 54 miles until they came to the town of Thoreau and highway I-40. Both vehicles took the ramp to go east towards Albuquerque, and that was the last Mulder and Scully saw of Doggett and Monica, as they were soon separated from each other’s view among the afternoon highway traffic.

*****

An hour and a half after getting onto I-40 in Thoreau, Mulder and Scully arrived in Albuquerque at 5:35 pm, where they stopped to fill the gas tank, use the restrooms, and grab some snacks inside the convenience mart at the station. Driving a further 58 miles from Albuquerque, they then exited I-40 to get on state route 285, heading south for Roswell. Scully took sips from her water bottle, staring out the window, saying nothing. Hours went by, and Mulder drove quickly as the sky darkened. Soon the night sky glittered with nothing but stars as far as the eye could see. The silence inside the car was unbroken, except by the occasional passing of vehicles or the wailing of coyotes.

At 8:50 pm on Monday, February 18th, they arrived in the city of Roswell, New Mexico, finding a long stretch of motels on Main Street. Mulder then pulled into the parking lot of the Roswell Lodge, where Scully walked into the main office and rented a room. After they showered the sweat and dust away, and changed into a fresh set of clothes, they drove to the McDonald’s shaped like a large flying saucer, lit up with judicious neon red piping along its ridge lines and window frames. Mulder grinned at Scully, who only shook her head as he pulled into the parking lot. They ordered their food to go, and were soon back at the motel.

He ate his cheeseburger and fries while she partook of her salad, both watching the news on the television. There was nothing on the national news about the prison escape, or the apparent murder of a military officer named Knowle Rohrer. Mulder wasn’t truly expecting there to be, but he couldn’t help checking. After finishing her salad, Scully trashed their McDonald’s bag and walked over to her suitcase, pulling out her toiletry bag and her robe. She then walked into the bathroom, Mulder following her. Outside they heard thunder roll, and rain began to pour. They stood side by side at the sink, brushing their teeth, their eyes often meeting in the mirror.

Mulder spit out some paste and brought the toothbrush back to his mouth, before pausing and looking at her. “Do you believe what he said about William?”

Scully stopped brushing, her eyes widening slightly as she caught his gaze in the mirror. She then leaned over, spitting out the frothy mint paste, before replying. “I don’t know. I don’t want to.”

“Do you think he was responsible?” he asked hesitantly.

“For the pregnancy?” she quietly replied, averting her eyes from his. She didn’t want to believe that the Smoking Man had anything to do with it, but she had serious doubts after the things Jeffrey Spender had said as well as the man himself. “I… do you?”

He sighed. Mulder remembered Doggett saying Knowle Rohrer had told him about the chip in her neck causing her pregnancy. He remembered sitting in the courtroom and listening as Agent Reyes said the government was contaminating the water supply to manipulate the biology of female abductees so they’d give birth to alien babies. He remembered that Lizzy Gill woman telling him that his child wasn’t alien at all, and that he was human, perfect and without frailty. He thought of his time with the Navajo, their legends, the cryptic things that had been said to him. He saw in his mind’s eye William’s DNA analysis and paternity results, the tests which showed nothing at all abnormal about him. If his biology hadn’t been human, certainly the tests would’ve shown that. But William was different, there was no doubt about it. And whatever he was, no test could discern it.

“Our son was a miracle, Scully,” Mulder finally answered. “And I refuse to let that miserable bastard take credit.”

Scully looked at his confident face in the mirror, and she gave him a small smile. “Whatever he is, or was… I have to believe that he’s fine now, that nothing is wrong with him, that he’s happy and healthy, that he’ll have a normal life.”

He gave her a half smile, and went back to brushing his teeth. Mulder’s stomach knotted, and something deep inside his chest clutched at him and ached. After rinsing his mouth out with water, he set his toothbrush down on the sink and walked out of the bathroom. Scully had silently watched Mulder’s demeanor change, becoming somber. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, and wondered if the two of them alone would be enough, if they would ever be able to live happily without their son. She then finished brushing her teeth and got undressed, before slipping her white satin robe over her bare skin and tying it around her waist.

When she walked back out to the room, Scully found the television had been turned off. Mulder was sitting on the floor on the other side of the bed, staring at the window. The small lamp on the desk against the wall was turned on, but that was the only light in the room. The only sounds were the thunder and rain outside. As Scully got up on the bed, lying on her side on top of the taupe knit blanket that neatly lay over the beige sheets, propping her head up with her elbow, Mulder leaned his head back against the mattress, and stared up at the ceiling.

“What are you thinking?” Scully asked quietly.

He kept silent as his mind replayed the date over and over. There was no wise man with all the answers. There was no ‘Keeper of the Truth.’ What had he accomplished? Nothing. He’d had the X-Files for nearly 10 years, worked with Scully for seven, until their partnership was cruelly torn asunder. All the years of work, and it had gotten him nowhere. He’d lost everything and everyone except Scully. And even that was at risk now that they were fugitives. That date was coming, there was no stopping it. The world would end. He’d failed his son, just as his own father had failed him, had failed Samantha. William wouldn’t live past the age of 12, and because of his own bad decisions, he would never experience what little of life his son had.

“Mulder?”

“I'm thinking… I'm a guilty man. I've failed in every respect. I deserve the harshest punishment for my crimes.”

Scully gazed at him. “You don't believe that,” she said softly.

He sighed. “I believe that I sat in a motel room like this with you when we first met and I tried to convince you of the truth. And in that respect, I succeeded, but… in every other way…” Mulder turned to look at her. “I've failed.”

“You don't believe that, either.” She didn’t want what the government had done to him, and the cruel things the Smoking Man had said, to make him feel like giving up. Mulder had done a world of good. He’d opened people’s minds, and their eyes, including hers, and his work had touched the lives of many.

“Hmmm,” he replied noncommittally, turning away from her. “I've been chasing after monsters with a butterfly net. You heard the man. The date's set. I can't change that.”

That date. For some reason, it didn’t scare her. The idea of some alien race wiping humanity off the planet seemed bizarre to Scully. There was no way it could truly happen, even if the threat existed. She had faith that God would never allow it to happen. She wished Mulder could have some faith, but she also knew that he wasn’t one to give up on anything. “You wouldn't tell me. Not because you were afraid or broken, but because you didn't want to accept defeat.”

Mulder thought of the trial, his time in prison, Scully pleading with him to tell her the truth. “Well, I was afraid of what knowing would do to you.” He then turned back to look at her again, and confessed one of his biggest fears. “I was afraid that it would crush your spirit.”

“Why would I accept defeat?” she asked with a questioning look, hoping he didn’t truly feel that way deep down. “Why would I accept it, if you won't? Mulder, you say that you've failed but you only fail if you give up. And I know you. You can't give up. It's what I saw in you when we first met. It's what made me follow you, it’s what made me fall in love with you, and why I'd do it all over again.”

Tears pricked his eyes. “And look what it's gotten you.”

“And what has it gotten you? Not your sister. Nothing that you've set out for. But you won't give up, even now.” Scully reached out and took hold of his hand, and he squeezed hers in a firm grip. “You've always said that you want to believe. But believe in what, Mulder? If this is the truth that you've been looking for, then what is left to believe in?”

As he stared at her, he thought of those who’d helped him: the Lone Gunmen, X, and even Krycek, who apparently grew a conscience in the afterlife. Maybe they’d been sent to help him, guide him somehow. “I want to believe that the dead are not lost to us. That they speak to us as part of something greater than us – greater than any alien force. And if you and I are powerless now, I want to believe that… if we listen to what's speaking, it can give us the power to save ourselves.”

“Then we believe the same thing,” she said.

Scully gazed at him intently. As Mulder looked into her face, an image of Melissa Scully dressed in white and gold flashed across his memory, but he had no clear idea what it could be from. He heard her words in his head. Scully smiled at him as he reached over and lifted her gold cross with his finger, staring at it for a moment. He lifted his thumb, pressing against her lips as she kissed it.

Mulder got up from the floor and settled himself on the bed next to Scully, gathering her into his arms and wrapping himself around her until they were entwined with his leg draped over her hip and her arm around his waist. “Maybe there's hope,” he whispered. He closed his eyes as she nuzzled his face.

When Mulder had sat with Scully in that Bellefleur, Oregon motel room almost nine years earlier, he’d been a believer. He believed in the existence of alien life, the government’s knowledge of it, and the possibility of invasion. But ideas of faith and spirituality had been lost to him, lost to the life-altering events of his childhood. Ever since his return from his abduction, learning of Scully’s pregnancy, the birth of William, he’d gradually become more open to those concepts. And now with recent events, he realized that it didn’t matter how much he was able to expose those in power, to bring their crimes to light. In the end, what truly mattered was much more personal.

“It’s all a matter of faith,” Scully said softly. “Faith that as long as there is life, there is hope, and as long as hope remains alive, we can find a way to survive the future.”

Mulder opened his eyes, leaning back slightly to look at her, and she brought her hand up from his waist to caress his face. He stared back at her intensely, knowing that whatever may come in the future, they’d face it together. “I love you.”

She smiled, bringing her hand down, her finger tracing his jawline, his chin, and up around his lips. “Show me,” she said in a whispered demand.

He gazed at her, his eyes searching her face. His left hand sinking into her hair, he ran his right one up and down her back, moving to caress her side through the soft material of her robe, sliding across her abdomen. Leaning a bit closer, Mulder captured her lips with his, kissing her tenderly. The sensations of his lips, firm and soft, moving with hers, the warm breath from his nose on her cheek, his familiar scent, all filled Scully’s mind with lust. Butterflies filled her stomach and her heart pounded, warmth spreading from her face down to her toes. Her nipples began to ache, and the feel of his lips passionately, reverently caressing hers sent a spark directly down her chest to the tightening pit of her stomach.

Slowly, they pulled back to breathe, and his forehead pressed to hers. Mulder’s right hand went to the satin belt of Scully’s robe and untied it. He then pushed the robe apart, revealing her bare skin underneath. He pulled the robe off her shoulder, freeing one arm, before she sat up slightly to peel the robe down and off the other.

Mulder then abruptly turned away from her as she lay back down, and flipped the light switch on the wall, illuminating the lamps on each bedside table. “It’s too dark in here,” he said, turning back towards her. “I wanna see you.”

She lay naked on the bed, the robe having been discarded and tossed to the floor. His eyes roamed over her. “Scully,” he breathed in a ragged whisper.

She smiled at him. Scully suddenly felt like crying, so she whispered instead. “I look different.”

“I’ll say,” Mulder replied with a grin. “With the exception of, uh, a couple mornings ago… the last time we had sex you were like, eight months pregnant.”

“But my body looks different from even before all that,” she said with a slight frown. “I’ve got stretch marks.”

He stared at her and furrowed his brows, pursing his lips. “And… stretch marks are… bad?”

Scully rolled her eyes. “Well, they’re not pretty.”

“Now I have to find them,” he replied, smirking. “You realize this?”

She snorted, rolling her eyes again. Mulder moved to hover over her, his eyes darkening, and her breathing quickened. Lowering himself, he pressed his lips to hers once more. Scully pulled him down to her, wrapping her legs around his jeans-clad hips. The soft cotton of his gray t-shirt rubbed against her breasts and abdomen.

Pulling away from her mouth, Mulder trailed kisses along her jawline, down her throat. When his lips traced her collarbone, Scully’s hands went to his hair. His lips then found the curve of her breasts, full with arousal. When his hot, wet mouth enclosed over a taut, pink nipple, sucking greedily, her fingers massaged his head insistently, demanding more.

Scully’s breathing was low and shallow, and it made Mulder’s pulse pound. He moved to give her other breast the same attention, his mouth closing around her hardened nipple. Mulder opened his eyes, glancing up to her face, and bit down. Scully gasped and gripped his hair, the fingers of her other hand tracing the vertebrae in his neck. He then kissed a path to her abdomen, dragging his tongue along her skin in erotic circles and lines. He thought her belly was perfect. Slightly rounded and soft, womanly. He smiled against her.

“So you found them, huh?” Scully said, sitting up on her elbows, giving him a slight smirk.

Mulder looked up at her. “What?”

She raised her eyebrows. “The stretch marks.”

He grinned at her and looked back down at her abdomen, before running a hand over her skin. Gazing down at her, Mulder’s eyes soon discovered the odd silvery line etched into her skin, faint and small.

“These lines right here?” he asked, his brows knitting in a look of disbelief. They were barely noticeable.

Scully nodded. “Yep.”

He pursed his lips. “And you didn’t have them before you got pregnant?”

She stared at him, pressing her tongue into her cheek. “Nope.”

Mulder looked down at her belly again, his finger tracing a silvery line, and looked up at her, speaking quietly. “So… William gave you these?”

Her eyes widened, her mouth falling open slightly. Scully had never thought of her changed body that way, usually groaning at the sight of the marks on her once-flawless skin. But Mulder didn’t seem to think her stretch marks were flaws.

Smiling at her, Mulder bent his head again, kissing every faint line he could find. Scully’s hand went to his hair, running her fingers through it, her heart swelling. After drawing his tongue in an erotic circle around her navel, Mulder let his tongue slide south, exploring her neat auburn curls as his hands ran up and down her abdomen and breasts, caressing her soft flesh, rolling her taut nipples between his fingers.

Scully arched her back when his head went lower, gently flicking the tip of his tongue against her engorged clit. “Oh. Oh, my…,” she exhaled in a breathy moan.

Mulder breathed in her delicious scent, moving his hands down her sides to grasp her hips as her legs spread wider for him. He glanced up at her face, flushed pink, at her chest heaving with her panting breaths. His tongue then lapped out and slid one long stroke from cunt to clit, relishing in the taste and feel of her swollen, wet folds, and Scully cried out with a loud guttural moan.

He didn’t show her any mercy, sending his tongue writhing against her clit, through her folds, circling her entrance, drawing in the flowing juices of her arousal. Scully gripped the taupe blanket in her fists and her eyes slammed shut. Her every moan and the sound of her whimpering his name made Mulder harder, his breathing more shallow. He wanted her bad.

The throbbing tension of her clit finally burst and Scully was crying out his name, her body arching, her legs convulsing. Mulder kept flicking his tongue gently, wanting to prolong her pleasure as much as possible, until she lay gasping and limp on the bed. The blanket was a wrinkled mess, and the sweat dampening her brow was starting to curl the red hair at her forehead.

Mulder sat up on his knees, and pulled the gray t-shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the floor. His hands then went to his jeans, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper. Pushing the blue jeans down off his hips, he breathed a sigh of relief, his throbbing erection no longer restrained by denim. Mulder then moved back to stand at the end of the bed, removing the jeans along with his socks and navy blue boxer briefs.

He returned to the bed, Scully staring at his rigid arousal. She started panting, her mind filling with wanton lust, and she wanted too many things at once. She wanted to feel the weight of him in her hands, she wanted to take him in her mouth and milk him dry, she wanted him inside her. Scully still hadn’t decided which she wanted more when Mulder was suddenly crawling up over her, his lips in a reverse trail up her body. Lowering himself over her, he captured her lips with his. This kiss wasn’t so tender or reverent, it was hungry and insistent. Her own taste on his mouth sent a shudder through Scully, the pit of her stomach tightening, her hips arching. Mulder deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue inside her mouth to caress her tender flesh.

Scully stirred on the bed under him, her hands roaming his sides, tracing the muscles of his back and shoulders that flexed over her. Mulder pulled out of the kiss and looked down at her, pausing, and she opened her eyes. They had darkened to the color of the ocean, her dilated pupils as dark as night. He slid his erection up her thigh, her legs parting further, and positioned himself at her opening. She felt hot, wet, ready. Mulder slowly pushed inside her, relishing her slick tightness, and paused to allow Scully to become accustomed to his size.

She arched her hips and wrapped her legs around his waist. Mulder pushed deeper and began to thrust. Scully was breathing heavily and her lips parted. She licked them, and Mulder bent to claim them in a passionate kiss. Every movement of his hips brought him closer to ecstasy. He tried to go slow, but she was hot and wet around him, her tight muscles contracting around him like wet silk on his hard cock.

Scully raised her hips, arching to meet his thrusts with her own. One of Mulder’s hands was in her hair as he buried his face in the bed above her shoulder. Her fingers dug into his back as she felt that indescribable tension build up inside her, her clit throbbing, bringing her closer to the precipice. Scully felt her orgasm coming on, she was on the brink, and she dug her fingernails into his firm ass, grabbing hold of him. That was all it took. Wildly explicit language tumbled out of Mulder’s mouth and he convulsed, his hot seed ripping from him and pouring into her warmth. Scully cried out, her cunt clamping down on him like a vice, and she moaned again and again as similar sounds escaped his throat.

Mulder collapsed to the mattress beside Scully, as her shuddering legs unlocked from his thighs. Tears began leaking from her closed eyes, and he turned towards her, reaching with his left arm, and pulled her to him, whispering her name over and over. Scully’s body still shook as he pressed his lips to her eyelids, kissing away her tears. Mulder rolled back over, taking her with him until she was resting on top of him, his arms wrapping around her. He pressed his nose to her hair and kissed her forehead. Mulder closed his eyes and held her until their breathing returned to normal, until Scully relaxed in his arms.

The smell of her was intoxicating. Her lips were swollen with his kisses. Her hair was a tousled mess. Mulder moved one hand to settle on her ass, giving her a squeeze. Their bare skin, sticky and overheated, lying against one another was a comfort and relief beyond anything else. The world felt right in a way it hadn’t been for a very long time. Nothing had changed between them, and at the same time everything had changed. Eventually they fell asleep, Scully curled up at his side while he lay on his back, and they both dreamed that everything was all right. There was a beach, and a large sand UFO, and an eight year old boy who belonged to them.


	122. "We have to take every precaution."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully head for the Navajo Indian Reservation. Scully makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Mamas & The Papas - "California Dreamin'"
> 
> All the leaves are brown and the sky is gray  
> I've been for a walk on a winter's day  
> I'd be safe and warm if I was in L.A.  
> California dreamin' on such a winter's day
> 
> Stopped into a church I passed along the way  
> Well I got down on my knees and I pretend to pray  
> You know the preacher liked the cold  
> He knows I'm gonna stay  
> California dreamin' on such a winter's day
> 
> All the leaves are brown and the sky is gray  
> I've been for a walk on a winter's day  
> If I didn't tell her, I could leave today  
> California dreamin' on such a winter's day  
> California dreamin' on such a winter's day  
> California dreamin' on such a winter's day

Scully awoke early on Tuesday morning, February 19th, in their Roswell motel room to find Mulder already awake, staring up at the ceiling. It was still dark, the sun not having yet risen. She shifted her head on his shoulder, inching closer to him, bringing her right leg up further over his hips.

“Good morning,” he said quietly, still looking at the ceiling.

“Good morning,” she replied, running her fingers through the curls on his chest.

The room fell quiet again, and Scully knew that Mulder was thinking something over. She waited for him to speak, but the silence soon became pervading. She looked up at his face as his hand came up, softly brushing his fingertips lazily up and down her back.

She moved her hand from his chest, her arm wrapping tightly around him. “How long do you want to stay here?”

“We should leave this morning,” Mulder said. He’d been questioning how safe it would be return north, knowing the government had believed them to be in that area. But his mind would never rest until he knew for sure his young friend was all right. “I want to check on Gibson. I need to make sure he’s okay.”

Immediately, her thoughts turned to her mother and her brothers, her sisters-in-law. They had no idea where she was, or if she was even alive. “Mulder, I need to let my family know I’m okay. I can’t leave them wondering. I can’t do that to my mother.”

A pang of guilt filled his gut, but he couldn’t see how contacting her family would be a good idea. “No doubt their phones are tapped, their mail is being monitored, and I’m sure their homes are being watched.”

She sighed, nodding. There had to be some way to get word to them. “Well, we should go,” said Scully, sitting up and turning away from him, sliding over to the edge of the bed. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

He watched her walk into the bathroom, still debating the advantages and disadvantages of returning to the Navajo reservation. He didn’t want to put Scully needlessly at risk, nor did he want to risk the lives of the people whom had done so much for him.

Just after 7:00 am, Mulder and Scully checked out of the Roswell Lodge and got back on the road. After a stop in Albuquerque for food and gas, they arrived in Shiprock at 2:25 pm. Scully gazed out the window at a town she hadn’t been in for almost seven years. The streets and houses only seemed vaguely familiar. They soon pulled into the driveway of the house she recognized as having been the home of Albert Hosteen.

Getting out of the SUV, they approached the white house with sky blue trim, climbing the porch steps to knock on the white front door. A few seconds later, the door was opened by Eric Hosteen, whose eyes widened at the sight of Mulder. Turning his gaze to Scully, he stared, before turning a nervous expression back to Mulder.

“What is it, Eric?” he asked, seeing the young man’s anxiety.

“Men have been around town,” Eric replied, taking a step back from the doorway to allow them to enter. “Men from the government.” He then closed the door after they stepped across the threshold, and turned to look at them. “They’ve been telling people to look out for Mulder and a woman with red hair, and if seen, it’s to be reported immediately.”

Mulder and Scully exchanged an intense gaze, their stomachs knotting. He moved closer to Eric and placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Is Gibson still at the trailer in Weed Hope?”

Eric shook his head. “He’s back in Kayenta, in the trailer park. My father took him over there early this morning.”

Sighing, Mulder placed his hands on his hips. “I’m gonna take a drive up to Weed Hope, anyways, get the rest of my stuff out of the trailer.”

“Gibson took your things,” replied Eric. “The trailer’s been cleared out.”

Mulder nodded, and Scully stepped forward, remembering the sight she’d encountered all those years ago when the Smoking Man and the soldiers with him had inflicted harm on Albert Hosteen and his family. “Have those men from the government threatened anyone? Have they hurt anyone? Have they said anything about Gibson Praise?”

“No, not yet,” Eric said. “My people know how important it is to protect the FBI man as well as Gibson. But… it might not be safe here for Mulder. There may be some who would be desperate to make some money, and may be tempted to sell the information that you were here, no matter what the elders have decreed.”

“Don’t worry, we’re not gonna stick around long,” Mulder said, giving the Navajo man’s shoulder a squeeze. “But I do need to check on Gibson.”

Eric nodded and started walking towards the front door, opening it once again. Mulder and Scully followed him to the door, and stepped out onto the porch. He and Eric shook hands, Mulder thanking him for everything, and telling him to give his thanks and regards to the young man’s father. Mulder and Scully then returned to the black SUV, and got back on the road. Heading west towards the Arizona state border, they arrived in Kayenta at 4:10 pm, two hours before sunset.

Mulder drove straight to the Manuelito Mobile Park and parked the vehicle in the driveway of the trailer he’d shared with Gibson. There weren’t any lights on inside. Getting out of the driver’s seat, Mulder walked around to the back and opened the rear hatchback door. Reaching into the duffel bag, he found the set of keys with the Camaro key chain. He and Scully then walked up the concrete steps and onto the screened-in porch, crossing over to the front door. Mulder unlocked it and they went inside.

The furniture was still there, but the place was in shambles. Chairs were turned over, kitchen cupboards had been ransacked, the mattresses taken off the beds and tossed to the floor. There was no sign that Gibson had returned. Mulder wandered into both bedrooms and then back out to the living room.

“You were expecting Gibson to be here?” Scully asked, her eyes widening at the state of the mobile home.

“This is where we lived for almost a year,” replied Mulder, walking into the kitchen. “They clearly found out somehow.”

She sighed, looking around. “Well, he’s not here now. Do you know where he’d be?”

Nodding, he left the kitchen and walked past her in the living room, moving towards the door. “I can think of a couple places. Hopefully he wasn’t here when this happened.”

At that moment the front door swung open, banging against the wall, Gibson walking hurriedly inside along with Valerie Hosteen and his friend Cody Cloud. “The boys were walking back from the baseball field and Gibson suddenly heard you,” Valerie said to Mulder, breathing hard as if she’d been running. “He banged on my door and said you were back.”

“Are you all right, Mulder?” Gibson asked.

“I’ve been so worried about you,” said Valerie, her eyebrows knitting into an anxious expression, and she moved closer to him, her stomach filling with butterflies. But as she caught sight of Scully she stopped dead in her tracks and stared. The women locked eyes momentarily, Scully taking in her tall frame, smooth reddish-brown skin covered by blue denim shorts and a white blousy tunic, her long dark hair hanging over her shoulders. Scully then simply glanced between her and the two boys, remaining silent.

Gibson and Cody also turned to look at Scully. “The FBI woman,” Cody said to Valerie in a low voice.

Mulder’s stomach tightened. “Men have been around here. Looking for us.”

“Yeah, some men in black suits came into the diner yesterday, asking people to keep a look out for you and a red-haired woman,” Cody replied, darting a glance at Scully.

“The trailer was already like this before I got here,” added Gibson. “He read my mind. That judge… the alien one. He knew you were coming to New Mexico. He knew we’d stayed here. The place was a wreck when I got here this morning. I’m sorry, Mulder.”

Valerie sharply turned her gaze from Scully to Gibson. “What were you doing hanging out at the baseball park if you know dangerous people have come around? You should stay inside.”

Gibson shrugged his shoulders. “I’d be able to hear anyone coming from a long ways off.”

She sighed, arching her eyebrow sternly, looking unamused.

Mulder looked between them, stifling a smirk. “Gibson, Eric said you took the rest of my stuff with you. Where are you staying?”

Gibson tilted his head towards Cody. “I’m staying with his family. But they don’t have room for your suitcases, and all your magazines and stuff. They’re at Valerie’s.”

“Okay, let’s go,” Mulder said, starting to move towards the door.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Valerie asked him, glancing over at Scully.

He stopped walking, and turned to look back at his partner, who raised her eyebrows. “Um… this is Valerie Hosteen. Albert’s granddaughter.”

Scully’s eyes widened slightly with surprise, and then she smiled at the young woman. “Hi. Uh, I’m Dana.”

Valerie swallowed. “Hello.” She then averted her eyes from Scully’s and looked at Mulder. “So… let’s get your stuff.”

They all exited the trailer, walking out of the porch and down the concrete steps. At the end of the driveway stood one of the mobile park residents, Mrs. Vandever. Her long graying dark hair was held back in a long braid, her matching linen tunic and skirt contained an intricate Navajo print of orange, black, and yellow. She looked at them in surprise and then at the sight of Scully, her eyes widened in shock, and she began speaking excitedly in Navajo as Valerie approached her.

“The woman with red hair,” Gibson interpreted to Mulder quietly.

Looking at Scully, his stomach tightening into knots, Mulder stepped closer to her and gently grasped her by the arm and led her over to the passenger side of the black SUV. He opened the door for her as she got in. “We should probably do something about your hair,” he said to her before shutting the door. Scully sat back in the seat, thinking over that statement.

Mulder got into the driver’s side and backed of the driveway, before heading down the gravel road, turning right at the end of it. Not long after, he was pulling up in front of Valerie’s mobile home. Mulder and Scully hopped out of the SUV, and less than two minutes later, Valerie, Gibson, and Cody were walking up to the trailer.

After walking inside Valerie’s home, greeted at the door by her dogs, Scully stood inside the doorway as the others made their way further into the living area. Mulder followed Valerie to the guest bedroom, which held his two suitcases against the wall. She walked over to the slightly smaller one, lifting it and setting it on the bed, zippering it open.

“Your magazines, newspapers, Internet articles are all here,” she said, pointing to the pile of papers and publications in one corner.

“Thanks,” Mulder replied, stepping over to the suitcase. He reached down into one corner and his hand grabbed hold of the small rectangular wooden chest. He opened it, briefly perusing its contents, before closing it.

Valerie swallowed, turning her gaze from the luggage to his face. “I was really scared for you. I thought… I thought they were going to kill you.”

He sighed. “Yeah, well… they still might.”

“You should wait till dark to leave town,” she replied. “You’re too recognizable. Especially with her. The government’s made sure of that.”

“I guess the red hair really stands out around here, huh?” Mulder said, giving her a slightly nervous look.

She considered him a moment, chewing on her bottom lip. “You stay here, I’ll be back soon.” Valerie then turned and walked away from the bed, leaving the guest room.

Mulder headed out for the living room, where he found Scully sitting in a chair at the circular kitchen table while Gibson and Cody stood by the doorway talking quietly. When Gibson turned to look at Mulder, he and Cody stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind them.

“Where did she go?” Scully asked him. “Albert Hosteen’s granddaughter?”

“Valerie? I have no idea,” replied Mulder. “She said she’d be back soon.”

She looked at her hands in her lap, playing with her fingers. “You trust her.” It wasn’t a question.

He crouched down in front of her, his hands going to hers. “Yes, I do.”

“Gibson told me what happened,” she said, looking up and meeting his eyes. “He told me about the night you put a gun to your head.”

“Scully…,” breathed Mulder, hanging his head.

She entwined her fingers with his. “I’m glad there were people around who… could help you.”

He squeezed her hand. “Me too.”

Twenty minutes later, Valerie returned carrying two plastic grocery bags, and brought them over to the couch. Scully and Mulder got up from where they sat at the kitchen table, walking over to her. Looking down into one of the bags, Scully noticed they were filled with boxes of L’Oreal at-home hair color kits, with seemingly every blond and brunette shade available.

Speechless, she reached down into one of the bags, placing her hand around a box with ‘Natural Darkest Brown’ printed in the upper right corner. As Scully stared at it, Mulder and Valerie exchanged a look.

“Well, if you want my opinion…,” Mulder started to say to Scully, his hand moving towards one of the bags as she let go of the ‘Natural Darkest Brown’ box.

Valerie slapped his hand away. “She doesn’t. Hair color is personal.” She then grabbed both bags with one hand, took Scully by the other hand, and marched them determinedly into her bathroom. A silent Mulder stared after them as Scully glanced over her shoulder to look at him, eyes slightly widened in surprise.

Soon Scully was sitting on the toilet seat as Valerie sat cross-legged on the bathroom rug, bringing out each box of hair color, handing them over to be examined. Every few moments, Scully would sigh and look at another box. She deliberated silently, and Valerie didn’t push her towards a decision one way or another.

“I think this might be a good one,” Scully finally said, holding up the box with ‘Light Golden Brown’ in the corner.

Smiling, Valerie nodded. “Good choice.”

After Scully removed her white blouse, hanging it on a rack on the wall, she stood at the sink, Valerie standing behind her, holding a comb in her gloved hand.

“You don’t have to help me, you know,” Scully said to her.

“Something tells me you’re not the kind of woman who dyes her hair at home,” replied Valerie. “You’ve got ‘salon’ written all over you.”

Scully looked at her in the mirror, smirking slightly and shrugging her shoulders. Taking the comb, Valerie parted her hair, before applying the hair color. Soon her entire head of hair was coated in the hair dye, and Scully sat back down on the toilet seat to wait out the 20 minutes before she could rinse it out.

Valerie stood in front of the mirror, removing the gloves and tossing them into the trash can before washing the hair comb in the sink.

“I, um…,” Scully began, clearing her throat. “I want to thank you, for what you did for Mulder. I, um, I’ve been there… with him, before. And, uh, I’m sure it was a scary situation.” Her voice lowered to just above a whisper, and she looked down at her hands.

“He tried something like that before?” Valerie asked, raising her eyebrows as she turned to look at her.

Scully sighed. “It was a long time ago. Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you. For being there.”

Valerie nodded. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m glad I was around. He needed a friend.”

Giving her a half smile, Scully then sat silently, staring at her hands.

*****

Mulder paced nervously around the living room. Gibson and Cody had disappeared without so much as a word, and he had no idea where they were. Scully and Valerie Hosteen were holed up in the bathroom, something that surprisingly made him feel somewhat uncomfortable. He continued to pace, turning on the television and then turning it off. The front door then suddenly opened, and he looked over to see Gibson and Cody walk back inside the door.

“There’s no sign of trouble,” Gibson said confidently. “We walked all over the mobile park, and there was nothing out of the ordinary.”

Nodding, feeling a huge sense of relief, Mulder gave the 16 year old boy an encouraging smile. “Good work.”

Feeling somewhat awkward, and glancing nervously between his two friends, Gibson stepped closer to Mulder. “Am I going with you?”

“I thought you like it here,” said Mulder, his brows furrowing.

“I do,” Gibson replied sincerely. “I want to stay here. But… if you need me to go with you, I will.”

He considered him for a moment, and then Mulder sighed. The only reason he’d need Gibson around would be to make use of the kid’s ability. He recalled the last time he’d wanted to use Gibson to his own selfish benefit, and Scully entreating him to do what was best in the boy’s interests, telling him that they had to make every effort to ensure that nothing happened to him. Gibson could be the key to everything, at least one of them, and Mulder knew that those in power had taken a keen interest in him. Running around with him and Scully would only put the boy in danger, and would be no real life for him. He deserved a home with people who could care for him, he deserved to go to school every day, he deserved to have friends and play softball and video games and anything else that made up the life of a normal kid.

“Gibson, you’re much safer here,” he said. “You should finish school, and stay out of trouble. I have no idea what my life is gonna be like now. You wouldn’t be happy with me and Scully. You’ll be well cared for here. Besides, here is where you really wanna be, right?”

The boy sighed, nodding. “Yeah.”

Mulder gave him a kind smile. “Don’t worry about me. Don’t worry about Scully. You just concentrate on taking care of yourself.” He glanced over at the bathroom door, behind which Valerie and Scully were still barricaded, and then looked back at Gibson, smirking. “You wanna tell me what they’re talking about in there?”

Shaking his head, Gibson tried not to roll his eyes. “Why don’t you sit down and watch TV or something?”

The boys then walked back out the door, closing it behind them and sitting down on the porch steps. After watching them leave, Mulder looked back at the bathroom door and sighed. Thinking about Gibson, his thoughts then turned to William, wondering what kind of life he could have even offered his son. He and Scully would be fugitives, running for their lives, hiding. Mulder sat down once again at the table, leaning over, his elbows going to his knees, and stared at the floor.

*****

It was then time to rinse out the color, and Scully got down on her knees, leaning over the bath tub, as Valerie brought the shower nozzle down, spraying the warm water into her hair. Once the water running through Scully’s hair was clear, Valerie turned the bath fixture, shutting the water off, and returned the shower nozzle to its base. She then grabbed the conditioner from the L’Oreal box, handing the tube over to Scully. Five minutes later, it too was rinsed out. Valerie grabbed a clean towel off the rack, giving it to Scully, who wrapped it around her head. She then slipped her white blouse back on and toweled her hair dry.

Scully stared at her reflection in the mirror as Valerie sat down on the toilet seat, watching her in fascination. Hesitating slightly, Scully then removed the towel from her wet hair and started running the comb through her newly-brown tresses. Valerie watched her bring the somewhat tangled locks forward to comb first one side and then the other. Stepping back and folding almost double, Scully bent her head, flicking the wet strands of her hair to hang forward, and wielding the comb from the nape of her neck, she continued to run it through her hair’s length.

“Do you have a blow dryer?” Scully asked after standing back up straight.

“Um, yeah,” replied Valerie, getting off the toilet seat and moving towards the linen closet.

Retrieving the hair dryer from the shelf, she turned and brought it over to Scully, standing behind her at the sink.

“Thanks,” said Scully, her eyes meeting Valerie’s in the mirror as she grabbed hold of the blow dryer, before plugging it into the outlet in the wall.

Valerie took a couple steps back and leaned against the wall, watching the other woman handle the hair dryer in one hand and the comb in the other. Scully often met her gaze in the mirror, and the young Navajo woman would usually avert her eyes and stare down at her hands, playing with her fingers. Soon her hair was no longer damp, and Scully switched off the dryer, setting it down on the sink and unplugging it from the wall.

Scully stared at her reflection, at the shoulder-length golden light brown hair in the mirror. Her eyes pricked with tears, somewhat to her surprise. She sniffed. “I don’t know why I’m getting emotional over this.”

“Maybe… because this was one of the last things you had control over,” Valerie said astutely.

Sighing, she nodded. Scully then grabbed the comb and began running it through her dry hair, using her hand to smooth down any loose strands.

Valerie chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before speaking. “So, Dana, how long have you and Mulder been together?”

Scully briefly met her gaze in the mirror, considering her a moment. “Um… almost nine years.”

“Wow,” Valerie said. “That’s… that’s a long time.”

“Yeah,” she replied, staring at her reflection. “So, um, you and Mulder became friends?”

Valerie’s mouth twitched. “Not as much as I _wanted_ to.”

Scully’s eyes flew to the younger woman’s in the mirror, staring fixedly at her teasing smirk and unapologetic shoulder shrug.

“He was just way too… in love with you, I guess,” Valerie said, pursing her lips. “I can see why. You’re very beautiful.”

She looked at her silently, Scully noticing the smile and twinkle in the Navajo woman’s eyes. She rolled her eyes, feeling slightly awkward at the compliment. She then returned her gaze back to her reflection, running a hand through her changed hair. The red was gone. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. A deep sense of sadness washed over her.

Valerie looked on in fascination at this ‘Scully’ that Mulder had lived in misery for, and suddenly remembered something. “Um, where’s… where’s your son?”

Scully froze, and swallowed back the lump starting to grow in her throat. “He’s… he’s gone.”

Eyes widening, Valerie’s mouth fell open. “I’m so sorry,” she breathed.

Lowering her head, Scully’s thoughts once again went to her mother, and everything she’d put her through, all the frustration over her pregnancy, losing Mulder and getting him back, running away to have the baby in hiding, losing Mulder all over again, the constant dangers posed to William, and then giving him up. All of these things without discussing them with her mother, always keeping her in the dark, and now facing the real possibility of never seeing her mother again. How much she’d made her mother suffer. She thought of Jennifer and Tara, wondering what had happened to her, Bill Jr and Charlie, sick with worry. Tears filled Scully’s eyes, and she bowed her head over the sink as her eyes brimmed over.

Valerie stared at her hands, her fingers entwining. Not knowing what to say, she quietly left the bathroom to leave Scully alone. As she closed the bathroom door behind her, Valerie’s gaze fell on Mulder, sitting hunched over at the table. She couldn’t possibly imagine what it must be like to lose a child.

He looked up, meeting her gaze. “What? What is it?”

“I’m sorry about your son,” Valerie said quietly.

“She told you about that?” he asked, his brows rising in surprise.

Valerie pursed her lips. “Not really, no. I, uh, I asked about him.”

Mulder looked down at his shoes, not wanting to talk about it. He then sat up, leaning against the back of the chair and crossing his arms. Turning his head to look down at the table, he noticed a thick stack of papers: college applications. His eyes widening, Mulder turned in his chair and hunched over the table, picking up the stack and shuffling through it.

“Colorado State University, The University of Utah, South Dakota State University…,” Mulder said, reading off just a few of the applications. He turned back to stare at her. “Are these for real? Are you really doing it? Going back to school?”

Feeling slightly embarrassed, she averted her eyes. “Well, I’m applying. You know, to finish up my bachelor’s degree. I guess… I’ll see if anything comes of it.”

He smiled, and turned back to look down at the applications. “What made you change your mind?”

Valerie felt herself blush, and chewed her bottom lip. “Oh, well, you know… I can’t work at the bar forever.”

“Hmm,” Mulder replied, smirking to himself. “And think of all the children out there who need you.”

She snorted. “Yeah.”

The bathroom door opened, and Mulder quickly looked away from the table, the college applications momentarily forgotten, and he gazed at Scully standing in the doorway. Her hair was different. It was still shiny, and it fell across her shoulders, but it was no longer red. She had an apprehensive look on her face, her eyebrows knitting. Mulder stood up from the chair, moving towards her.

“Are you all right?” he asked her, his hands going to hold her shoulders.

Scully gave him a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Mulder moved his right hand to her hair, running his fingers through the soft light brown strands. “Do you like it?” he whispered.

She shrugged her shoulders noncommittally. “It’s okay, as far as hair colors go.”

He smiled, and bent his head to press his lips to hers, kissing her tenderly.

Valerie’s eyes widened, and she turned away, her brows furrowing, her stomach knotting.

Scully broke the kiss and pulled back to look up at him. “We need to talk about where we’re going to go from here.”

Mulder nodded, and then eyed her, taking in the confident expression on her face. “Did you already have somewhere in mind?”

“I need to contact my mother,” she replied. “I need to get word to her that I’m alive, and that I’m okay.”

“Scully…,” he sighed, stepping back from her. “Contacting your family will only endanger them, and us.”

She licked her lips, nodding. “I know. I’m not saying I should call them or that we should go back east. But… there might be another way.”

His crossed his arms. “What? What do you want to do?”

Scully hesitated slightly before replying. “I want to go to San Diego.”

“You want to see Bill Jr?!” Mulder felt shocked, thinking her older brother would be the first in line to turn him in to the authorities.

“It’s the last place we’d go,” she told him. “As far as the government’s concerned. If they… if they know everything about me, if they’ve been watching us all these years, they probably believe Bill is the last person we’d contact.”

He scoffed. “They’re right. Do you think anywhere near a naval base is where we should be right now?”

She stared at him, her face serious. “We’re going to San Diego. And I don’t mean the naval base.”

Mulder shrugged his shoulders, sighing. “All right.”

He walked into the guest bedroom to retrieve his suitcases. After bringing the larger bag outside and loading it into the SUV, Mulder walked back inside the trailer and went for the smaller suitcase as Scully made her way out to the vehicle. Valerie was standing in the room as he entered.

“You have everything?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” Mulder replied.

As he grasped the zipper to close the suitcase, his eyes fell on the small wooden chest, containing a few of his most treasured possessions. He suddenly remembered what that shopkeeper had told him in San Francisco two years before, about something powerful attracting unwanted attention from things seeking power. Mulder opened the chest, and reaching down for the magic puppet, he removed it.

Turning to Valerie, he held out the burlap puppet. “I need you to keep this safe for me. Can you do that?”

She stared at it, becoming suspicious. “I… don’t like that.”

“Come on, it’s harmless,” Mulder said.

“Then why don’t you want it?” asked Valerie, arching her eyebrow.

He sighed. “It belongs to Scully. But it wouldn’t be good for it to be anywhere near her. It’s powerful magic.”

She blinked at him. “Magic.”

“Listen, you don’t have to believe what I’m saying, but can you please just keep this safe for me?” Mulder implored. “It’s important.”

Valerie reached out, gingerly taking hold of the burlap puppet between her thumb and forefinger, carrying it over to the bottom drawer of the dresser, placing it inside.

He rolled his eyes, zippered the suitcase closed, and walked out of the guest room, heading outside to the black SUV. After the hatchback door was closed and brand new license plates applied to the vehicle, he walked around to stand in front of the passenger side door next to Scully. Gibson and Cody approached, and Mulder thanked them.

“Take care of yourselves,” he said to them. “And stay out of trouble.”

“We will,” Cody responded, nodding.

Mulder looked at Gibson. “Don’t worry. Okay?” He then patted the boys on the head companionably, and turned to look at Valerie.

Scully spoke first. “Thanks for helping me with… the hair.”

Valerie grinned, waving her hand. “It was nothing.”

“Good luck with everything,” Mulder said to Valerie. “I’m sure you’ll get into a good school. You’re smart. You deserve to get out of here and make something of yourself.”

She nodded, glancing between him and Scully, giving them a small smile.

After saying goodbye to Gibson and his friend as well as Valerie, Scully then opened the door and got in the passenger seat. Mulder turned to walk around the vehicle to head towards the driver’s side door, before pausing and turning back to look at Valerie.

“Thanks… for everything,” he said to her.

Valerie shrugged. “I didn’t do all that much, really.”

Mulder stared at her a moment. “Yeah, you did. And you know it.”

“She’s lovely,” Valerie said, her voice becoming quiet.

“You mean Scully,” he replied turning to glance at his partner sitting in the car. “Yes, she is.”

She gave him a half smile as he nodded, going around the SUV, opening the car door and getting into the driver’s seat. Valerie then watched the vehicle drive away, tears pricking her eyes.

Just before 6:00 pm, Mulder drove out of Kayenta, getting on US route 160, heading southwest towards Tuba City. They would drive south down through Arizona, passing by the city of Phoenix, until they came to highway I-8, which would take them west all the way to the coast. If they kept their stops brief, Scully guessed they could be in San Diego in about 10 hours.

Mulder and Scully drove, heading for California. As the sun set, the temperature dropped and stars popped out in the big expanse above them. Scully thought she’d never seen stars as bright as those before, and they filled the cloudless sky, sparkling as they drove through the night. She thought of California, of San Diego. The last time she’d been there was nearly two years ago, and her life had been very different. That hadn’t been a necessarily happy time, as she remembered standing in front of Emily’s grave, but her memories of San Diego filled Scully with pleasant feelings. She yearned to be back there, to see the ocean. Every mile they drove brought her closer, and the closer they got to San Diego, the sooner she could send word to her mother. In the city of Gila Bend, Arizona, just before they were to get on highway 1-8, they made a brief stop, filling the gas tank. They then switched seats and Scully got behind the steering wheel.

“What makes you think Bill Jr will even be willing to help us? In any way?” Mulder asked, glancing over at her as she merged onto the highway just before midnight.

Scully looked over at him, her eyes meeting his. “Because he’s my brother.”

They drove through the night, Scully keeping both hands on the steering wheel as Mulder dozed in the passenger seat. At 4:30 am on Wednesday, February 20th, they arrived in San Diego, California, two hours before sunrise.


	123. "Even when the world was falling apart, you were my constant, my touchstone." ... "And you are mine."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully check into a motel in San Diego. She then comes up with a plan for them to see Bill Jr, leading to a confrontation and an avowal.
> 
> Sidenote: For those of you on Twitter, the fandom is doing a Global Rewatch of the entire X-Files catalog, TV seasons and films. We're live-tweeting the episodes and it's TONS of fun watching them together. Come join us if you haven't already!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping At Last - "Dear True Love"
> 
> Dear true love,  
> I'm a writer without any words  
> I'm a story that nobody heard  
> When I'm without you
> 
> I am a voice  
> I am a voice without any sound  
> I'm a treasure map that nobody found  
> When I'm without you
> 
> Dear true love,  
> I'm a lantern without any light  
> I'm a boxer much too afraid to fight  
> When I'm without you
> 
> So with this ring  
> May you always know one thing  
> What little that I have to give  
> I will give it all to you  
> You're my one true love
> 
> I am a memory  
> A memory bent out of shape  
> A childhood already bruised with age  
> When I'm without you
> 
> Dear true love,  
> I'm an artist without any paint  
> I'm the deal that everyone breaks  
> When I'm without you
> 
> So with this ring  
> May you always know one thing  
> What little that I have to give  
> I will give it all to you  
> You're my one true love
> 
> I am a whisper  
> I'm a secret that nobody keeps  
> I'm a dreamer of someone else's dreams  
> When I'm without you
> 
> Dear true love,  
> I'm a farewell that came all too soon  
> I'm a hand-me-down that dreams of being new  
> When I'm without you

Scully took the 6th Avenue exit off the highway, heading towards downtown. The clock on the dashboard told her it was after 4:30 am, and she glanced over at Mulder, who was still asleep in the passenger seat. Getting off the exit ramp and driving down Elm Street, she soon came to 2nd Avenue, and turned left. Up on the right side of the street was a motel. She drove past the motel front and its blue awning over the entrance with the word ‘Welcome’ in large white letters, turning right into the parking lot.

When Scully cut the engine and unbuckled her seat belt, Mulder stirred and opened his eyes, blinking himself awake. “Where are we?” he asked groggily, sitting up straighter and stretching.

“At a Motel 6 in downtown San Diego,” she replied, reaching for the door handle. “We’ll probably be here for a few days, at least, so we shouldn’t leave our suitcases in the car. I’m gonna go get a luggage cart from the lobby.”

Mulder stared at her as she slid out of the driver’s seat and shut the door behind her, wondering just how long they were actually going to be in San Diego, wondering just what her plan was. He got out of the vehicle and went around to the back, opening the rear hatchback door, and started pulling out their bags. Several minutes later, Scully returned with a cart and they started loading the suitcases.

“We’re in room 325,” she told Mulder as she pressed the lock button on the keyless entry remote attached to the car keys, and he nodded.

They made their way inside the motel, through the lobby to the elevators, and up to the top floor. As Mulder and Scully entered the room, they took in the décor. It was a corner room, with two large windows with orange drapes. Three out of the four walls were white, with one painted a bright orange color that matched the folded blanket draped over the tan comforter at the end of the king-sized bed. A large flat-screen television was mounted to the wall. The furniture was of dark brown oak, the dresser as well as the desk in the corner between the windows. A black leather office chair was pushed up in front of the desk, and a tan cushioned armchair sat in the opposite corner.

While Mulder showered, Scully began setting some of their clothing in the dresser drawers, placing their suitcases in the closet. Soon he emerged from the bathroom, and Mulder planted himself on the left side of the bed, sitting up and turning on the television. Scully then retrieved something clean to wear from the top dresser drawer, and stepped into the bathroom to shower.

After flicking absentmindedly through the channels, before settling on the local news station, Mulder’s attention was then drawn to the opening bathroom door. He watched Scully walk out wearing a powder blue tank top, her perfect breasts underneath uninhibited by a bra, and panties in a plaid pattern that matched the blue of her top. Her newly light brown hair hung in damp waves around her shoulders, beginning to curl. She quietly walked across the room to the windows, closing the orange curtains, darkening the room. Mulder felt his groin tighten. But then his eyes widened slightly as a concern suddenly rushed to the front of his mind.

“Uh, Scully…”

She turned from the window to look at him. His fingers were at his mouth, running over his bottom lip, a sign he was thinking something over.

“We should probably get condoms,” he finally said after muting the television.

“What?” Scully’s eyes widened, wondering where that was coming from. Since they’d started having sex over two years ago, condoms had never been a topic of conversation.

Mulder twitched his mouth, considering her a moment. “I think it’s a good idea.”

Her brows knitted, and she stared at him in confusion, but then she eyed him as the memory of a smirk and an unapologetic shoulder shrug flashed in front of her.

“I just, uh… I don’t want you to get pregnant,” he told her.

“Oh,” breathed Scully. “I’m still barren, Mulder. That’s not going to happen.” She then walked over to the bed, moving to sit next to him.

He still felt worried. “Your infertility didn’t prevent the last pregnancy. We still don’t know how exactly it happened.”

Scully sighed, and she reached out to take hold of his hand. “I thought you said he was a miracle.”

“A miracle brought about by who?” he asked, his brows furrowing with worry.

“Well… if the government really was involved, we’re hopefully out of their reach right now,” she said, pulling her hand away. “And… if it was God who gave me a miracle, do you really think he’ll give me another one after the mess I made of the first one?” She then lay down, putting her back to him.

He sighed. “Scully…”

“I’m fine, Mulder. Let’s just get some sleep.”

He sighed again, wishing they’d never entered into the conversation. Mulder kept his eyes on the muted television, continuing to watch the local news and trying not to look at Scully’s back as she shut him out. His lids soon became heavy, and then he moved to lie down, quickly falling asleep. She stared at the wall, trying to push away her grief, the guilt she still felt. The only sound in the room was her partner’s steady breathing, and eventually she was lulled to sleep.

Hours later, Scully opened her eyes to see Mulder was once again sitting up in bed, watching the television. She was pressed up at his side, her hand in a loose fist on his thigh. She tilted her head to glance at the TV. _Looney Tunes_ was on the screen. She moved her head back to look up at Mulder, her brows knitting. He was staring at the television, but she could tell he was a million miles away.

Mulder glanced down at her, his eyes meeting her gaze, his expression somber. He brought his hand towards her, brushing her hair away from her face, sinking his fingers into her soft golden brown curls.

“Are you still thinking about earlier?” whispered Scully.

He nodded sadly. “I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said quietly. “I don’t want them to hurt you anymore.”

She moved to sit up, turning her body slightly to face him. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

“Skinner told me about what that… Super Soldier, or alien replicant, whatever they are… what he said to you,” he whispered, swallowing back the lump suddenly growing in his throat.

Scully gave him a small sympathetic smile, nodding.

“They could’ve used it against you,” he continued. “They could’ve used that chip or… something, to get you pregnant. And I can’t… I can’t allow them to use you again.”

She sighed. “Mulder, do you believe that William is an alien? An organically-grown Super Soldier?”

His brows furrowed as he pursed his lips, and then he sighed. “No.”

“Neither do I,” she said. “The government may have tried to do something, or planned on it; they _were_ conducting tests on female abductees to manipulate their biology. But Mulder… my biology wasn’t changed, and none of William’s tests showed anything out of the ordinary.”

Mulder felt hot tears prick his eyes. “But they were watching us. They saw everything. Heard everything.”

“I know,” she whispered, reaching for his hand, remembering how violated she’d felt at the Shadow Man’s words. “They’re not watching us now, not anymore. We’d be dead already if they were.”

“But…”

Scully gave him a smile. “What did I say about having some faith?”

Worry still etched his features, and he opened up his mouth to reply, but she silenced him by leaning forward and pressing her lips over his own. He felt her fingertips move up his abdomen, to his chest, running through his thatch of hair, and felt her straddle him, so that she sat on his lap, facing him. Mulder let physical desire take him over, drowning out the remnants of his tormenting thoughts. He slid his hands underneath Scully’s powder blue tank top, and ran them the length of her naked back, before pulling the top up and over her head.

Soon the only sound in the room was the growing intensity of their breathing. Scully sat facing him on his lap as Mulder fondled and kissed her breasts, caressing her thighs with his large hands. She slid her hand through the slit of his boxer briefs, freeing his throbbing erection. She leaned forward, capturing his lips, kissing him passionately as her small hand slid up and down his hardness in an even cadence. Soft moans escaped Mulder’s throat, and his hands moved to position her over his lap. Pulling the crotch of her cotton underwear to the side, Scully raised herself slightly and then lowered her wet heat down over his thick length. They gasped and moaned as she rolled her hips over his upward thrusts, making love while the television aired silenced cartoons behind them.

*****

At 4:15 pm on Wednesday, February 20th, Mulder and Scully departed Sunshine Laundromat on 1st Avenue with their freshly laundered clothes. On the corner of Laurel Street and 5th Avenue, they stopped in at the Italian restaurant Cucina Urbana and ordered to go. Not long after, they were sitting side by side on the bed inside their motel room, eating their pizza.

Mulder glanced over at Scully, sitting cross-legged with a paper plate in her lap. “So… how are you gonna go about contacting Bill Jr? I mean, you can’t call him. Or show up at the base.”

She finished chewing her bite, and then wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Bill and Tara go to St. Joseph’s every Sunday morning for Mass.”

“You’re going to waylay them at church?” he asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

“No, _we are_ ,” she replied, giving him a slight smirk.

He scoffed. “Yeah, that’s gonna go over well.” He took another bite of the pepperoni and sausage slice, and chewed, thinking. He then looked back over at her. “Maybe _you_ should go into the church, tell him whatever you need to tell him, and I’ll wait in the car outside.”

Scully stared at him, her expression becoming serious. “We’re _both_ going in the church. I’m not letting you out of my sight.” The idea of separating, even just for a few minutes, caused fear and anxiety to well up inside her.

“I’m sure it’ll be quite the scene we’ll put on for the parishioners,” Mulder deadpanned.

Glancing at him as he took another slice from the pizza box between them, she started wondering if showing up at Mass, publicly in front of a lot of witnesses, was the best way to go about seeing her brother. But the church was the one place she knew he regularly went to that was off the naval base. Scully spent the next couple of days silently debating this while holed up in the motel room, as Mulder camped out at the desk looking over articles and those X-Files cases she had packed in one of her suitcases.

Just after 4:00 pm on Friday, February 22nd, Scully slid off the bed where she’d been perched watching the national news, and walked over to the window. She sighed and turned to glance at her partner, in dark blue jeans and charcoal gray t-shirt, hunched over the desk reading one of his UFO magazines.

“Mulder?”

He turned in the chair to look at her. “Yeah?”

She gave him a small smile. “Let’s get out of here for a while.”

“Where do you wanna go?” he asked hesitantly, wondering just how much time they should really spend out in public.

“I just want to be outside for a bit,” she replied. “I’d like to see the ocean.”

Mulder gave her a smile and nodded, standing up from the desk. Scully walked over to her suitcase and grabbed a pair of black jeans and her dark purple sweater. After getting dressed, they departed the motel room. Scully got behind the steering wheel as Mulder buckled up in the passenger seat, and 20 minutes later they were in La Jolla Cove Beach. The temperature was dropping, hovering just above 60 degrees, and Mulder was glad he’d brought his leather jacket.

“We were here two years ago, Scully,” he said to her as they walked down the path from the parking lot to the beach.

She glanced at him and smiled. “We were.” Scully sighed. “Things were very different then.”

He nodded, remembering walking with her around La Jolla on a hot 80 degree day, and attempting several times to hold her hand, which she’d always pulled away from. Mulder reached down and took Scully’s hand in his, threading their fingers. She didn’t pull away. “Yeah, things _were_ different.”

Soon they were sitting on the beach, looking out over the ocean, Mulder directly behind Scully. He opened his jacket as she leaned back into his chest, and covered her arms as his legs formed a V-shape around her. He kissed her cheek and entwined their hands as they sat overlooking the water. The scent of the ocean filled the air around them, a salty breeze through their hair. They watched the sun set over the water, a dramatic rush of purple, orange, and red that spread out, spanning the western sky.

Mulder hugged Scully to him. He bent his head down, nuzzling the side of her face. “Are you nervous about seeing Bill Jr?” he whispered, brushing his lips against her ear.

“A little,” she answered quietly, gazing at the ocean. “But I know that I need to, how important it is that he gets word to my mother. It’s something I have to do.”

“He once told me I was one sorry son of a bitch,” he said, keeping his lips at her ear.

She sighed and held onto his arms tighter.

Mulder kissed her ear, before whispering. “He got it all wrong. I’m one lucky son of a bitch.”

Scully turned in his arms to look at him directly, moving her hand up to caress his neck with her fingertips. “You’re probably one of the unluckiest people alive, Mulder,” she said softly.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head slightly, giving her a small smile. “‘Cause I’ve got you.”

She ran her hand around his neck, her fingers slipping into his hair, and she gazed at him, his eyes conveying an unspoken deep love for her. As the sun slowly disappeared at the horizon, Mulder bent his head, capturing Scully’s mouth with his, their lips moving in passionate agreement on what he’d said, on everything they felt for one another, and all that they were to each other.

*****

On Saturday morning, Scully awoke once again to find Mulder already awake, but he wasn’t sitting up in bed, lost in thought. He was lying on his back, his hands entwined over his chest, staring up at the ceiling. She gazed at him, remembering their passionate lovemaking the night before, feverish and infinitely satisfying, their bodies needing each other as badly as their souls did. Scully licked her lips and smiled, reaching out her hand, sliding up his forearm to where his hands sat on his chest.

Mulder turned his head to look at her, giving her a smile. “Happy birthday,” he said quietly.

Scully’s eyes widened slightly. Was it really the 23rd? She then sighed and pursed her lips. She was 38 years old today. “I thought you only like to acknowledge my birthday every four years?” she asked, grinning at him. “I got your flowers last year. You’re not due to remember it again until 2005.”

He smirked, and moved to lie on his side, facing her. He brought his arm around her, his hand slowly moving to caress the soft skin of her back. “I wish I had something to give you,” he whispered.

“You’ve already given me more than I ever thought possible,” she replied.

Giving her a sad smile, he didn’t reply. Mulder felt he was also responsible for taking everything away from her. Scully took in his saddened expression, and knew what he was thinking. She raised her hand to his face, gently stroking his cheek, and shook her head sympathetically. His face brightened a little, and his gaze was tender.

Mulder’s lips curved into a slight smile. “Maybe I can find you another really cool key chain while we’re here.”

Scully let out a breathy laugh, and let her hand drop from his face. Her thoughts then dwelt on why they were in San Diego in the first place. Surprising her brother at Sunday Mass in front of other church-goers, his acquaintances, might not be the smart way to go about things.

“I’m thinking we should go over to the church this morning,” she said. “If he’s kept up the same routine, Father Chávez should be conducting Mass this morning at nine and then he’ll be in his office until noon.”

“You know the priest?” he asked.

Nodding, she pursed her lips. “When my family moved here in 1974, Father Chávez was a newly-ordained priest and served at the church we started attending, St. Joseph’s. He’s still there. And it’s also just around the block from here.”

He sighed. “Why do you want to go today? What happened to seeing Bill Jr tomorrow morning?”

“I think talking to Bill in a more private setting would be much better,” Scully replied.

He agreed, and after showering and dressing, they departed the motel and drove down to the corner of Beech Street, turning left. As Scully pulled into the parking lot across the street from St. Joseph’s Cathedral, Mulder immediately recognized it as the church he’d gone to when the Scully family had put on a small funeral service for Emily. It was just after 10:00 am, and parishioners were departing after having attended Mass.

They exited the SUV, locking the doors, and started walking through the parking lot, heading towards the church. At the thought of possibly seeing Bill Jr in a very short period of time, curiosity and dread mingled in Mulder’s gut when he pondered what his reaction would be. The last time he’d been in the same room as Bill Jr, Scully was nine months pregnant. A lot had happened since then, and none of it good.

Stepping inside the church vestibule, they looked into the nave, where some people remained behind, hunched over in the wooden pews, praying, or lighting candles at a small altar. Mulder and Scully walked down the red-carpeted nave, towards the High Altar, where a priest stood near the pulpit, speaking cheerily with someone who looked like a member of the choir.

“Father Chávez?” Scully called out as they got closer to the Altar.

The priest turned to look at her, taking in both her and Mulder as they approached. He was middle-aged, most likely in his early 50’s, and Mexican-American. He stared for a moment, as if questioning who she could be, before his eyes widened and he regained his happy composure. “Dana? Dana Scully?”

She smiled. “Yes, Father.”

He whispered something to the choir member, who then departed back through the nave, before turning back to look at Scully and smiling. “I haven’t seen you in several years! It’s good to see you.” He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “So what brings you back to San Diego?”

Scully glanced around at the parishioners lingering in some pews, and turned back to the priest. “Would it be possible to speak privately?”

“Of course, of course,” Father Chávez replied, his facial features now showing concern, and he turned to lead the way through the North transept. He walked through an arched opening in the wall that led out to a hallway. They then walked down to an office, the priest opening the door and letting them inside.

“This is my partner, Fox Mulder,” Scully said as they stepped into the office.

Father Chávez smiled, and held out his hand to shake, upon which Mulder took it in his own. He then turned back to Scully. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”

She sighed. “I need to talk to Bill. But I can’t go to the base, and I can’t phone him.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” the priest asked, his face and voice full of concern.

“It’s complicated, but yes,” answered Scully. “We’re in danger, significant danger. I need to see my brother. Would it be possible for you to call him, and ask him to come here?”

The priest nodded, and walked over to his desk, reaching for the telephone. “Do you want me to tell him that you are here?”

She shook her head emphatically. “No. You mustn’t say anything about me over the phone. They’re probably listening on his line.”

“They?” he asked Scully questioningly, glancing between her and her partner.

“The government,” Mulder replied.

Father Chávez stared at them for a moment, before lifting up the telephone receiver as he flipped through a Rolodex of names with addresses and phone numbers. Upon finding the right card, he then dialed the Bill Scully Jr residence, Mulder and Scully looking on with knotted stomachs.

“Hello, Mrs. Scully, it’s Reverend Chávez calling,” the priest spoke into the receiver, before pausing briefly. “Yes, I’m just fine, thank you. I look forward to seeing your family tomorrow morning. But I was wondering if your husband was around?” He paused, waiting for a reply. “Oh, he, uh, just got in the shower?” Father Chávez glanced at Mulder and Scully for a moment. “Well, uh, would you mind asking him to come down to the church sometime this morning? I’d, uh, like to speak to him about a community benefit I’ve been thinking about putting together and getting the naval base involved.”

Mulder and Scully exchanged looks. His eyebrows raised, impressed with this story the priest was spinning over the phone to her sister-in-law.

“I do have a wedding to officiate at noon,” Father Chávez continued, looking over at the clock on the wall, noting the time was getting close to 10:20. “But I’ve got a window of time before then and I’d really like to see him.” He paused again, and waited for Tara to reply. “Great. Thank you, Mrs. Scully. You have a wonderful day now.” The priest then hung up the phone.

Father Chávez took the seat at his desk, while Scully stepped forward and sat down in one of the chairs in front of it. Mulder leaned back against the wall next to the closed door that led back out to the hallway, and listened as Scully began to recount some of the danger they were currently facing, although leaving out most of the incredible and unbelievable details.

*****

At 11:06 am, there was a knock on the priest’s office door. Scully and Mulder locked eyes as Father Chávez stood up, heading towards the door to open it. She felt nervous butterflies fill her stomach, anxious to see her older brother and dreading it as well. The priest opened the door and greeted Bill Jr, stepping aside to let him enter. He walked into the office and looked at the woman with wavy light brown hair sitting in the chair in front of Father Chávez’ desk, twisted around and looking at him with wide blue eyes. Bill blinked for a moment, and then realization dawned.

“Dana! Oh, my God…”

She quickly stood up from the chair, brother and sister hurriedly moving to greet one another, as the priest walked back to his desk. Bill Jr threw his arms around her and breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you okay?” he asked, pulling away to look down at her, his eyes searching.

Scully sighed, and tried to give him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Bill. Really.”

“We can fix this,” Bill said, his hands going to her shoulders. “I’m gonna do whatever I can to get you home, to make sure everything’s put right.”

She didn’t reply, and her eyes darted to Mulder, who had moved from his perch against the wall to stand in front of the open doorway that her brother had just walked through.

Mulder watched Bill Jr turn, following Scully’s gaze, and their eyes met. Bill Jr’s face reddened and his eyes flashed with contempt, hatred. Mulder blinked, fighting back the sudden onslaught of guilt: Scully’s abduction, her cancer, Emily, Melissa’s murder, William, Scully’s difficult pregnancy, her innocence, her freedom, her life.

Bill Jr’s face darkened. “This is _your_ fault, you son of a bitch.” He took a step forward, his ruddy complexion turning an even brighter shade of red as a thick vein pulsated in his neck. Bill Jr quickly closed to within inches of him when his fist slammed into Mulder’s jaw. He sprawled backwards, falling through the open doorway and into the hallway, slamming hard to the ground. His head connected with cement floor in a bone-jarring whack.

“BILL!” Scully shouted.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, this is a house of God!” the priest exclaimed, panicking, his eyes wide.

Mulder blinked, trying to get his vision to focus. Blood trickled from his split lip. Soon Bill Jr was looming over him, grabbing him by his leather jacket, lifting his head and shoulders off the floor. “Listen up, you worthless piece of shit! You’re going to get the hell out of here. I’m taking my sister and we’re going to put her life back together. A fine task after you’ve left it in shreds! Dana is no longer your business. If you insist on leaving here with her, I’m gonna squeeze your neck till I hear something pop.” Bill Jr threw Mulder back down, his head once again slamming hard onto the floor. Every muscle in his body tightened, expecting a beating as if he was once again in that prison cell.

Scully’s low voice then sliced through the air, like cold steel, as well as the unmistakable clicking sound of a gun. “Get off of him.”

Bill Jr leaned back and turned to look at his sister. Mulder looked up at her from where he lay on the floor, moving to sit up on his elbows. She held herself ramrod straight, anger and indignation seeping from every pore. She didn’t take the gun off her brother as her eyes locked with his.

“Dana…” he said, shocked, his eyes wide as he stepped away from Mulder.

“Dana Scully, you put that weapon away at once!” exhorted Father Chávez. “You are in God’s house!”

She obeyed the priest’s admonition, lowering her gun and holstering it, her eyes not leaving her brother’s. “Bill, I am stronger and smarter than you give me credit for. Mulder is not responsible for the choices I willingly made. I made them because they were the right choices to make, and the others were wrong.” Scully’s eyes filled with tears, and she swallowed back the lump starting to grow in her throat. “Bill, you want to help me? Well the only way you can truly help me is if you can finally see me the way I need you to see me. If you can finally understand me the way I need you to understand me.”

Bill Jr sighed and Mulder moved to get up from the floor, backing away to lean against the hallway wall, bringing his forefinger up to investigate his cut lip.

“My abduction, my cancer, my infertility, Emily, my son,” said Scully, speaking imploringly. “Are the consequences of choices that _I made._ I was not coerced to work with Mulder, or to stay on the X-Files despite the dangers involved. I was not forced to fall in love with him, Bill. Those were my choices. I knew what I was doing. I was aware of the potentials. I’m sorry that my choices have caused you pain, and worry. But this is _my_ life, and I’m going to do what I believe to be right.”

Mulder turned his head to gaze into the office, at Scully standing there in the doorway with her head held high, her face serious. Now was not the time for him to speak up. As far as he was concerned, he already spoke his piece in Mrs. Scully’s kitchen over a year ago, and that this was between Scully and her brother.

“Bill, men in our government did these things to me, to Mulder,” she continued, her voice softening somewhat, but still low and distinct. “They abducted me, gave me cancer. They murdered Melissa. They abducted Mulder’s sister as a child and performed horrific tests on her. They murdered his father. They created children with ova _stolen_ from _my_ body whose only purpose was to be tested on like _lab rats_ and left to _die.”_ Tears filled her eyes, threatening to spill over, but her voice didn’t waver. “The military formed an illegal tribunal and falsely accused Mulder of murder. They want to kill him. They want to kill us. They want to harm our son. It’s time you stop directing your anger at Mulder and myself, and direct it towards those who are _really_ responsible.”

Just then voices were heard in the hall. Bill Jr tore his silent, widened gaze from his sister. Both Mulder and Scully looked up the hall at three young Hispanic men walking towards them, all dressed in black tuxedos.

“Hello,” greeted one with a big smile. He seemed very excited and full of nervous energy. Mulder guessed he was the groom. “Is Father Chávez here?”

“Yes, I’m here, Gustavo,” the priest answered, stepping past Scully through the open doorway and out into the hallway.

He walked with the young men back down the hallway a bit, heading towards the arched opening that led into the North transept. Bill Jr turned back to look at Scully, and their eyes met. Her expression wasn’t so hard anymore, but her eyes were pleading. Mulder watched them quietly, still leaning against the wall. The priest soon returned.

“I need to get ready for this wedding,” Father Chávez told them. “Please stay here until the ceremony is concluded, and then we can all sit down and talk about this rationally. Without giving way to anger and sinning in God’s house.”

“I’m sorry, Father,” Scully sighed, her shoulders slumping as her posture finally relaxed.

He studied her for a moment. “Well, all I can say is you’ve clearly been through the wringer.” The priest then turned to Bill Jr, and eyed him momentarily before turning to Mulder. “Are you all right?”

Mulder nodded. “Yes, Reverend. I’m fine.”

“I’ll be back a bit later,” the priest said to them, before eyeing Bill Jr again. “Behave yourselves, please.”

They then watched the priest walk off down the hallway. Scully quietly walked right past Bill Jr and over to Mulder, who was leaning his right shoulder against the wall. “Let me look at your split lip,” she whispered, raising her hand to his face, touching his chin.

He sighed. “I’m fine, Scully. I’m okay.”

“You hit your head pretty hard,” she replied, her eyes searching his face as she ran her fingers through his hair until she found a lump in the back of his head, and he winced. “That’s what I thought.” Scully arched an eyebrow at him. “I’ll have to keep an eye on you, make sure it’s not a concussion.”

“For fuck’s sake, Scully, it’s not a concussion,” Mulder whispered emphatically.

She smirked at him. “Hmm, well… we’ll see.”

They then stood against the wall facing each other, silent and thoughtful. The commotion of spoken voices and feet moving around inside the nave could soon be heard, the sounds vibrating off the walls: the wedding guests had started arriving. Bill Jr turned and walked into the office, sitting down in one of the wooden chairs in front of the priest’s desk. Scully glanced through the open doorway to see him sitting there, hunched over with his elbows at his knees, his fingers entwined.

Soon the procession started, and music from the nave could be heard. Several readings of scripture were then done by friends or family of the couple getting married, and a hymn was sung. Father Chávez’ voice could then be heard, sounding loud and clear out in the hallway.

“Gustavo and Ines, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?"

The couple answered, “Yes.”

"Will you honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?"

The couple answered in unison again, “Yes.”

"Will you accept children lovingly from God, and bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?"

As the couple answered for the third time in the affirmative, Mulder fixed a steady gaze down at Scully until she looked up at him and met his eyes. She thought of William, and suddenly felt like crying, tears pricking her eyes. He reached out, taking her hand in his. She gripped his hand tight, her eyes not leaving his, a hundred unspoken words passing between them. Inside the office, Bill Jr turned in the chair and stared at them.

Father Chávez then continued. “Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church.”

A young man’s voice then sounded out. “I, Gustavo, take you, Ines, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”

Mulder and Scully maintained a steady gaze, and her tears brimmed over as the voice of a young woman was then heard inside the church.

“I, Ines, take you, Gustavo, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”

The priest then acknowledged the young couple’s consent to be married, and began to pray for God’s blessing on the couple. Scully stepped forward, her arms going around Mulder’s waist, and she hugged him tight.

“What God has joined, men must not divide!” Father Chávez then declared.

Bill Jr stared fixedly at Mulder and Scully, her last words to him running around in circles in his mind. He saw the way they looked at each other, the way his arms wrapped protectively around her.

As the priest began saying a blessing over the wedding rings, Mulder smiled down at Scully. “I still haven’t forgotten about finding you another cool key chain, you know.” She chuckled through her tears, and hugged him tighter. They then suddenly noticed Bill Jr approaching them in the hallway, and pulled apart.

“What do you need me to do for you?” Bill Jr asked.

Mulder blinked as Scully’s eyes widened.

He nodded, moistening his lips. “I don’t know if I’ll ever understand what it is that you’ve been through. But if I can help you in any way, then I want to. I need to. It’s… it’s what Dad would’ve done.”

“I need you to give us two days,” Scully replied. “Two days to get out of San Diego. Then I need you to call Mom, and Charlie and Jennifer on Monday night. Tell them that you’ve seen me, that I’m doing all right, and that I’m safe and unharmed.”

Bill Jr sighed. “Okay, I can do that.”

She nodded. “I also need you to tell them, and anyone who will inevitably start asking you questions, that Mulder and I have separated.”

Turning his head sharply to look at her, Mulder gaped. “What?”

“Not for real,” she replied, raising her brows at him before turning back to her brother. “You need to tell them that Mulder crossed the border into Mexico but I refused to go with him. You need to tell them that you weren’t sure where I was going, but it was back east somewhere and I’ll be contacting them whenever I possibly can. And you’ll need to make it believable, Bill. They’ll be listening to your phone calls.”

“Consider it done,” Bill Jr said, looking between his sister and Mulder.

Scully breathed a sigh of relief, and stepped forward, hugging her brother. “Thank you.”

As she stepped back from him, Bill Jr looked at her partner with a serious expression, and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve always understood where you were coming from, Bill,” said Mulder. “Hopefully now you can do the same.”

Bill Jr nodded, pursing his lips, and looked back at his sister. “Take care of yourself. And never hesitate to call on me for help.” With another nod at Mulder, he turned to walk away.

“Oh, Bill!” Mulder called out.

He turned back to look at him, and Mulder hesitated slightly before speaking. “You might wanna invest in magnetite.”

Giving him a confused look, his brows knitting, Bill Jr then turned back around, heading down the hallway, past the arched opening leading to the wedding ceremony, and out to the vestibule.

Mulder turned to Scully. “Magnetite?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Couldn’t hurt,” he replied, shrugging. “Let’s get out of here.”

They followed the same path down the hallway, bypassing the altar and the nave on the other side of the left wall, and entered the vestibule. But before they could walk out through the front doors, Scully paused, and turned to look inside the nave. The last time she’d been inside this church, she had lit one candle, and said one prayer. That prayer had been answered.

Scully walked away from Mulder, leaving him in the vestibule, heading inside the nave as the wedding guests were giving each other the sign of peace. She quickly set eyes on the large side altar in front of a large statue of Jesus at the back of the nave behind all the pews, which held long tapered votive candles. She walked over to it, and after performing the sign of the cross, she lit one candle and said one prayer: that William would grow up happy, and healthy, and loved. After performing the sign of the cross again, she walked away from the side altar and joined a waiting Mulder in the vestibule. Taking his hand, their fingers threading, they walked out of the church and headed for their vehicle.


	124. "I don't know if you noticed but, um, I never made the world a happier place."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully leave San Diego behind, and head northeast to Las Vegas.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping At Last - "You Are Enough"
> 
> When we woke up  
> The world was figured out  
> Beyond the beauty we’ve dreamt about  
> This brilliant light is brighter than we’ve known  
> Without our darkness to prove it so  
> Still we can’t help but to examine it  
> To add our question marks and periods  
> At the foot of our bed, we found an envelope
> 
> “You're enough, you're enough, you are enough”  
> These little words, somehow they’re changing us  
> “You're enough, you're enough, you are enough”  
> So we let our shadows fall away like dust
> 
> When we grew up  
> Our shadows grew up too  
> But they’re just old ghosts  
> That we grow attached to  
> The tragic flaw is that they hide the truth
> 
> That you’re enough  
> I promise you’re enough  
> I promise you’re enough, you're enough, I promise you
> 
> “You're enough, you're enough, you are enough”  
> These little words, somehow they’re changing us  
> “You're enough, you're enough, you are enough”  
> So we let our shadows fall away like dust  
> “You're enough, you're enough, you are enough”  
> These little words, somehow they’re changing us  
> Let it go, let it go, “You are enough”  
> So we let our shadows fall away like dust

By early Saturday afternoon, Mulder and Scully’s motel room had been hurriedly packed up, and they were loading their bags into the back of their SUV. Getting behind the steering wheel, Scully started the engine and waited for Mulder to join her in the front seat. Once he got in and buckled his seat belt, he turned to look at her.

“So, where to?” he asked.

“We should get out of California and put some distance behind us by the time Bill calls my mom on Monday,” she replied. “But we really shouldn’t go back through Arizona.” She sighed. “I don’t know. Where do you want to go?”

Mulder looked out the window at the parking lot, before turning back to look at her. “We could probably catch a decent Elvis Tribute Show in Las Vegas.”

Scully let out a breathy laugh. She then pursed her lips, thinking. “Vegas might not be a bad idea. We could easily blend in with the crowd.”

He smirked as she put the vehicle into reverse. Not long after, they had driven out of the San Diego city limits, heading north on highway 15. Two hours and 20 minutes later they were driving through Victorville. Scully looked over at Mulder, quietly looking out the passenger side window, and reached over, grasping his hand. Without looking at her, he gripped her hand with his own, threading their fingers, and their drive through the city was muted, Samantha dominating their thoughts.

Mulder wondered why his sister had never come to him, other than that night in Victorville two years ago. The Lone Gunmen had come to him, twice now, X, and even Krycek, of all people. But not his sister. He didn’t know what that meant. Maybe those who had come to him had been purposely sent, and they were the ones who could help him the most in those moments. Maybe seeing Samantha while locked up in that prison cell waiting to die would not have been best. As much as he wanted to see her, he knew that he never would want her to come to him while he was in such a state. But he knew she was out there, and that she was in a much better place.

Memories of Victorville and Arbutus Ray, Harold Piller, Samantha’s diary found in Jeffrey Spender’s childhood home on that closed military base, sitting in a café with a heartbroken Mulder, reading through his sister’s painful experiences, filled Scully’s mind. She thought of Mulder’s tale of finding his sister out in those woods, in the starlight with other children, happy and free from the horrors that would have befallen them.

Scully’s thoughts then turned to William, and she keenly felt the pain of her loss. She tried to imagine her and Mulder driving out to New Mexico, confronting the Smoking Man, running from those helicopters, all while having a one year old in the back seat of the SUV. She couldn’t picture it. Scully fervently hoped that the decision she had made would spare her son whatever harm might have come to him had he remained with her.

She glanced over at Mulder as they left the Victorville city limits behind and he let go of her hand. Scully began to wonder at his never asking her about the adoption or her reasons for it. He had yet to show any real hurt or anger over what she’d done. They’d cried together and he’d wholly blamed himself, they’d discussed Cancer Man’s words to them in that pueblo, but Mulder had said nothing of their son since then. She wondered if William would tacitly become something they avoided speaking about. She worried that Mulder would internalize his grief and anger, where it would fester until the burden of it became too much, just like those painful years he’d spent obsessing over his sister.

Thirty-five minutes after they left Victorville behind, they arrived in Barstow. Scully pulled off the highway to fill the gas tank. After the gas had been pumped, she got back in the driver’s seat and waited for Mulder to return from inside the convenience mart. Glancing at the entrance, the glass door opened, the bell at the top dinging, and Mulder emerged, carrying bottled water and a bottle of iced tea in one hand, gripping their caps between his fingers, and a bag of sunflower seeds in the other. She watched him walk across the lot, dressed in dark blue jeans and that torso-hugging charcoal gray t-shirt as well as a brand new pair of black sunglasses he must have purchased inside the mart. She eyed his familiar confident swagger as he approached their vehicle.

As he opened the passenger side door, she licked her lips. “You are one sexy SOB.”

Mulder paused, staring at her with widened eyes behind his dark sunglasses. He then grinned. “Well, it’s about damn time you started saying stuff like that to me.”

Scully nodded, blushing somewhat, and almost couldn’t believe she’d said such a thing. But she had no desire to censor herself around him anymore. What would be the point? She was also starting to dress more casually, her pantsuits and blouses starting to become forgotten. She looked down at herself as Mulder got into the passenger seat, at her black jeans and white t-shirt, dressed similarly as her partner.

“You wanna switch?” asked Mulder, looking over at her as he set their beverages into the cup holders.

“No, I’m okay,” Scully replied, reaching for one of them and taking the cap off.

He watched her take a sip from the water bottle. She seemed to be staring into space and he wondered what she was thinking about. Her quiet, lonely vulnerability buried underneath her strong exterior had drawn him to her all those years ago, it had been something they had in common. But they weren’t alone anymore; they had each other.

“Are you sure? You could get some more rest, Captain.”

She sarcastically arched an eyebrow at him. “Captain, my ass. I think we already established that you’re the Ahab of this relationship.”

“The words ‘megalomaniacal cosmology’ are suddenly coming to mind,” he said, chuckling, and grabbed his bottle of iced tea.

Scully rolled her eyes, grinning. Starting the car, she put it into gear and they drove away from the gas station, getting back onto the highway. After they crossed the California/Nevada border, signs more frequently counted down the miles to Las Vegas.

Mulder looked over at the dash. “Hey, lead foot, slow it down.”

Scully looked down at the dash and in shock; she saw she was doing 90 mph. “Shit. I didn’t realize I was going that fast.”

He saw a road sign and was surprised to see that it said, ‘Las Vegas – 20 miles.’

“We really don’t want to be pulled over by the staties.”

She sighed. “Mulder, I haven’t seen a state trooper in an hour.”

“Yeah, well… the closer we get to Vegas, the more likely we’ll see some, Scully.”

She slowed down to 65 miles an hour, and set the cruise control. Then she kept her foot off the gas pedal. The closer Mulder and Scully got to the great city, they saw more signs of life start to appear in the desert around them. Two and a half hours after departing Barstow, California, they were on the outskirts of Las Vegas at 6:30 pm, an hour after the sun had set.

After driving for some minutes around the downtown area, Scully looked over at Mulder. “Where should we stay?”

“All the big hotels will have security guards and cameras,” he replied. “We’re better off staying in some hole in the wall away from the Strip.”

She groaned internally, foreseeing hookers and drug dealers in their near future. Scully knew Vegas was great if you were going to stay in one of the fancy establishments on the Strip. She also knew it was very seedy nearly everywhere else. They drove along the Strip and just one block from the Bellagio, Scully spotted a Super 8 Motel and turned onto Koval Lane, before pulling into the motel’s parking lot.

After removing their bags from the vehicle, Mulder set about changing the license plates again. He then grabbed a luggage cart from the lobby, and once their bags were loaded, he and Scully walked inside the motel. At the desk, they each gave fake names. Scully showed her Canadian passport with the name Katherine Smith, and Mulder pulled out his own Canadian passport made by the Gunmen with the name Michael Ray Richardson, one of his favorite Knicks players when he’d been in college. They were given a non-smoking corner room on the second floor with a king size bed and a balcony.

Once their bags were set against a wall, Mulder and Scully climbed on the bed and lay down on top of the mattress. They had no idea how long they’d stay there in Vegas. Maybe a few nights, a week, or a month. There were no plans. They didn’t talk about the past, and they didn’t talk about the future. They were taking one day at a time.

“I’m tired,” Scully sighed, her eyelids becoming heavy. “But I’m also starving.”

“Me too. But let’s go get something to eat, and then we can crash.”

Mulder got up from the bed, and taking hold of Scully’s hands, pulled her up. They then left the motel and walked next door to the Ellis Island Casino and Brewery. After sitting down in the BBQ restaurant inside the brewery and ordering, their waiter brought them each a platter containing a half rack of baby back ribs, corn on the cob, coleslaw, and cornbread.

“All this for just $10.99?” Scully asked, her eyes wide. “How the hell am I gonna eat all this?”

He laughed. “Imagine if you’d gotten the full rack.”

She smirked and laid her white cloth napkin across her lap, and then they dug in to their dinner. Twenty minutes later, Scully leaned back in her chair and groaned.

“I can’t eat anymore,” she said. “I’m full to bursting.”

Mulder chuckled and wiped some barbecue sauce from the side of his mouth with his napkin.

Scully sighed contentedly. “It feels so good to eat something that didn’t come out of a bag or a cardboard box.”

He smiled, nodding his agreement, and reached his hand across the table. She smiled back, and took his hand in hers. Shortly afterwards they paid their bill and returned to the motel, where they showered and got into bed. After they had been in Vegas for two nights, Scully sat on the edge of the bed watching the television on Monday evening, February 25th, and waited for Mulder to come back to the room. The clock told her it was almost 9:00 pm. They’d returned from Ellis Island 45 minutes ago, after having eaten dinner at the café restaurant. He’d only left to refill their ice bucket, and he’d been gone longer than she anticipated. She began to nervously bounce her leg up and down, and she kept glancing at the door. Finally the sound of the room key could be heard and Mulder entered, carrying the silver ice bucket.

“You sure took your sweet ass time,” she said, as relief flooded her insides at the sight of him, safe and unharmed.

Mulder sighed, and closed the door behind him, locking it. “I’m sorry. I used the Internet down in the lobby.”

Scully stared at him. “What were you doing?”

“As it turns out, there _is_ an Elvis Tribute Show this week,” he said. “On Friday night. I bought two tickets.”

She blinked. “You’re not serious.”

Grinning, he waggled his eyebrows at her. “Oh, I’m serious.”

Scully shook her head, sighing, and fought hard to suppress a smirk. Later, after she’d showered and changed into a clean white tank top and pale pink cotton bikini briefs, she stood at the sink to brush her teeth. She noticed the tube of toothpaste on the sink from when Mulder had used it earlier, and rolled her eyes at the mangled tube before dispensing some minty paste onto the bristles of her brush. Scully walked back out to the room to join Mulder. He watched her walk towards the bed, and felt the familiar flutter in the pit of his stomach, felt his groin tighten. She climbed into bed and sat beside him. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table; it was 11:21 pm. He then turned to look at Scully, and her eyes met his.

“You tired?”

She heard the suggestiveness in his tone. She saw the glint in his eyes, hopeful but undemanding. They hadn’t had sex since San Diego. Scully gave him a half smile. Her thoughts had been consumed with her mother for most of the day, knowing this was the day Bill Jr had called her. She worried that her mother would have finally reached her limit, that she would write Scully off, and that there would no longer be any more room for understanding or forgiveness. She felt hurt at the pain her mother must undoubtedly be going through, not to mention Charlie and Jennifer and their boys.

“Do you wanna stay up and watch Letterman?” asked Scully, averting her eyes from his.

Mulder smiled, his hand reassuringly going to her back. “Sure.”

He turned the television on and kept the volume low. At 11:35, _Late Night with David Letterman_ started, but her eyelids soon became heavy and she scooted down until her head hit the pillow. The last thing Scully remembered before drifting to sleep was Mulder’s hand softly brushing the hair from her forehead as she lay curled up on her side facing him.

_She was sitting on that beach again, that beach she’d been coming to all week. A salty breeze filled the air, and the sun was warm. Mulder was sitting on his knees, wearing blue jeans and a heather gray t-shirt, his bare feet in the sand. An eight year old William was next to him, his hands gathering wet sand and spreading it on the large UFO they were making. She watched them while sitting on the grass and sinking her toes into the warm sand, feeling nothing but sheer contentment._

_Mulder looked over at her and smiled, before giving her a wink. Smiling in return, she then turned her gaze back to her son. He was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, sneakers on his feet. His light brown hair gleamed with copper highlights in the sunshine. He looked like any other regular kid spending the day at the beach with his parents. Mulder and William talked and laughed, happily working together side by side._

_William then turned and looked at her, gazing at her for a moment. She smiled, and he left the sand UFO behind, walking towards her. He then stood in front of her, and she reached out to gently grasp his arms at his sides._

_“Why won’t you help me with the spaceship?” he asked, his eyes and tone of voice earnest._

_She smiled. “William, your father is helping you. You don’t need me.”_

_He stared at her for a moment. “Yes, I do. I need you. I can’t do it unless you help me, too.”_

_“Do what?” she asked._

_“You already know,” William replied._

She was suddenly awakened by Mulder whispering in her ear. “Scully… Scully,” he said softly, worry in his voice. “Come on, wake up.”

She forced her eyes open, blinking herself awake. She felt confused as she took in the light peeking out from behind the tan curtains. It had seemed only moments ago that David Letterman had been cackling on the television. Scully turned to look at her partner, laying on his side, held up by his forearm, his eyes looking down at her with concern.

“Mulder, what time is it?” she asked groggily.

He let out a breathy laugh, and turned to glance back at the clock. “It’s 6:35 am. You were crying in your sleep.”

Scully quickly brought her fingers up to her face, and felt the wetness on her cheeks. Then everything flooded her mind, an onslaught of memories rushing in on her. She remembered exactly where they were, and why. “I was… I was dreaming.”

“What were you dreaming about?” Mulder asked quietly.

“William,” she whispered, and stared at the thatch of hair on his chest to avoid looking into his face.

He closed his eyes, sighing. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “No, no. It was a good dream. I… I was happy. We were happy. You and me… and William.” The details of the dream had faded, but she knew it had been a good one.

“I want to make you happy,” Mulder whispered.

“I know,” replied Scully.

He gazed at her, knowing everything she'd lost. "I wish I could give you William. I wish there was some way to erase all that's happened. I wish... we could find a way to be happy now, at least in some small way. I wish... I was enough. But I know that nothing can replace our son. Nothing ever will."

She brought her hand up to caress his cheek. "You are enough. Maybe I wasn't meant to have you both. I had William for a time, and maybe that was all I was meant for. You _are_ enough, Mulder. You've always been."

He sighed, and brought his left hand to her hair, touching the massed light brown curls that had taken over after her hot shower the night before. Mulder smiled. “I like it curly. It's soft and it looks… cherubic.”

She stared at him, and then burst out laughing. “Did you just say ‘cherubic?’” she asked in disbelief through her laughter.

He shrugged, and started chuckling. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed, the last time he’d heard Scully giggle. He only knew it must have been over a year ago, before he’d left her. His heart swelled, and he vowed to do everything he could to make her laugh often. Mulder leaned over and captured her lips with his, kissing her slowly, languidly, passionately.

The air in the room soon became thick with sensuality, and not long after Scully had curled her hands around Mulder’s hard cock, her fingers and his flesh interlaced and somehow perfect, beautiful. He gazed down at her, and his eidetic memory took in every vivid detail of the atavistic surge of lust and hunger.

She wanted him so badly, wanted to milk his brightness, his power, everything she loved about him, to coat her fingers and her tongue, to drown the painful memories with his desire for her. He shuddered under her touch, his breath ragged and rough, but his hands gentle on her head as she lowered towards him. Mulder gasped as her mouth enclosed him.

Under her stroking tongue, Scully felt the rising rush in his hardened flesh, and she quickened her pace, stroking faster, sucking harder. Mulder’s grasp on her hair became a little less gentle and she fought the urge to laugh as he pulled her down and the engorged head of his cock nudged the back of her throat. She took him, and he groaned her name, so she took him deeper, using her throat muscles to swallow around him. Mulder’s hips lifted from the bed and she gripped his shaft with one hand, his taut balls with the other, pulling him in.

“Fuck, Scully, I’m gonna come,” he panted, his tone of voice almost a warning.

She hummed her approval, and that was all it took. He bucked his hips, and closing her eyes, she took him in another inch. Explicit words of passion tumbled from his lips and he spasmed again, his whole body wracked with pleasure. The hot spurt of his seed filled Scully’s senses with salty musk and man and something sweet that was wholly Mulder.

She lifted her lips slowly, easing her tongue over each ribbed vein of his swollen flesh. He gasped and tightened his fingers in her hair. Scully paused with her mouth just over the tip of his cock and gently hummed again, the tip of her tongue darting out against his sensitive head. Mulder’s arms fell limply at his sides.

“As soon as you regain some strength, you’re taking me to get breakfast,” she said, crawling back up the bed towards him.

“Oh yeah?” he said, his eyes closed, his brain still a fog of pleasure.

She smiled as she lay next to him, and starting running her forefinger through the curls on his chest. “I want some blueberry pancakes.” Scully grinned. “It’ll make me happy.”

Mulder chuckled. “I can do that.”

Scully tucked herself up under his arm, her head pillowed on his shoulder. He laid one heavy arm over her waist and pulled her closer.


	125. "I’m just at that special place, and I wanted to share it with you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder gets an idea. He and Scully attend an Elvis Tribute Show on the Las Vegas Strip.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvis Presley - "Unchained Melody" (Live)
> 
> Oh, my love, my darling  
> I've hungered for your touch  
> A long lonely time  
> And time goes by, so slowly  
> And time can do so much  
> Are you, still mine  
> I need your love, I need your love  
> God speed your love to me
> 
> Lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the sea  
> To the waiting arms of the sea  
> Lonely rivers cry, wait for me, wait for me  
> To the open arms, wait for me
> 
> My love, my darling  
> I've hungered for your kiss  
> Are you still mine  
> I need your love, I need your love  
> God speed your love, to me

On Thursday, February 28th, while the cold, gray light of early morning began to peek out from behind the tan curtains that covered the motel room window, Mulder was busy smothering Scully with long, passionate kisses. She sighed as his soft and warm lips made their way down her neck, across her collarbone. She ran her fingers through his messy brown hair while her other hand gently stroked the skin of his back and her thighs wrapped around his waist, her muscles clenching as blood rushed to her groin.

“Do we really have to see this Elvis show tomorrow?” Scully asked, smirking.

“Yes, we do,” replied Mulder, dipping his tongue in the hollow of her collarbone, causing her to shudder. “It’ll be an unforgettable experience that I want to share with you.”

She snorted. “Elvis impersonators, wearing those rhinestone-covered white jumpsuits and bad wigs.”

“When was the last time we had some fun that didn’t involve a bed?” he whispered.

Scully thought he had a point. Mulder’s lips caressed across her skin from the nape of her neck to behind her earlobe, his tongue probing the soft flesh behind it. She moaned. Scully’s breasts were pressed into his chest, her nipples hardening against him, and all Mulder could think of was more. More of this. More pleasure. More of Scully. More of her lips, her hands, her legs, her breasts, her soft skin. More, more, more. A ball of hot, desirous need began to tighten in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to fill his senses, to fill his hands and mind with her, and only of her. They had all the time in the world for each other now, with no appointments or deadlines, nothing to do and nowhere to go.

He rolled them over until Scully was on top, straddling his pelvis. It was never the same, the way they made love. Sometimes it was fast and rough. Sometimes it was slow and tenderly passionate. At times it was playful. At other times it was greedy and desperate. On that morning it was languid, and full of affection.Scully brought her hips forward, hovering over him for a moment, running her hand over his swollen flesh before guiding him to her. She stroked the engorged head against her sensitive skin, loving the way it felt. Slippery and hot, hard as steel beneath skin of soft velvet. Just thinking about its power and heat could push her towards a climax. She circled the tip at her entrance, grinning down at him. His eyes flared dark green with desire.Scully then sank down over Mulder, enveloping him in her tight wetness, and leaned forward until she captured his lips with her own, his strong arms moving around her back, holding her against him.

Several hours later, Scully stood in front of the closet and sighed. Some of their clothing had been relegated from the suitcases to the closet and dresser drawers, but not all. They still needed to be ready to fly from the room at a moment’s notice. The keys to the SUV always stayed atop the dresser, next to the television, where they could be quickly grabbed, and the gas tank was always full.

“What are you sighing about?” Mulder asked from where he was perched at the desk, reading that morning’s edition of _The New York Times_ he’d gotten down at a newsstand on the Strip.

“This Elvis show you’re making me go to,” she replied, throwing him a smirk. “What does one wear to a Vegas show?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Vegas clothes.”

She sighed again. “So… short, tight, and revealing, huh?”

“Well, I won’t complain,” he deadpanned. “And you’ll blend in with the crowd.”

Scully threw him a look, but his head was bent over the newspaper. She suddenly remembered that night she’d feverishly packed away her life, before rushing off to get Mulder out of that prison. She walked over to one of her suitcases, up against the wall opposite from the desk Mulder was hunched over. She laid the suitcase flat on the floor and unzipped it. Her eyes immediately fell on the cardboard box that contained everything she had in the world of William. Scully nervously glanced over at Mulder, still reading the paper. She hadn’t once removed this box from her bag, nor had she mentioned it to him. Underneath the box was the spaghetti strap dress she’d purchased for that FBI banquet, a remnant from her former life.

Mulder turned around in the chair to see Scully standing there, holding the black dress out in front of her. Memories rushed in on him, and a small smile spread across his face.

“I wonder if it still fits,” she said aloud.

“Why wouldn’t it?” he responded, shrugging.

Scully sighed again. “I had a baby since then.”

He gazed at her while she chewed her bottom lip. “Well, if it doesn’t fit, we’ll go out and buy another one.”

She nodded, and brought the dress over to the closet, hanging it up. She stared at it, and remembered vividly the night she’d worn it. But it seemed strange to her, a foreign vestige from the life she’d had before becoming a mother, before the pregnancy, before losing Mulder.

Just before 5:00 pm, Mulder drove Scully to the upscale Westside neighborhood of Las Vegas and pulled the SUV up to the curb in front of Argyle & Spark, a small women’s clothing boutique on South Rampart Boulevard.

“What are we doing here?” she asked.

“It’s your birthday gift, Scully,” he replied. “Head on in there. They close at seven, so you’ve got about two hours to pick out as many dresses as you want. I figure it’s better than a keychain. At least more useful.”

She stared at him with slightly widening eyes, and then glanced at the front entrance to the clothing store. “And what are _you_ gonna do, Mulder?”

He grinned at her and shifted the gear into park, before pulling out his wallet. “I’m gonna sit out here and keep guard.”

Scully knitted her brows and looked at him with slight confusion, not having expected this. She then smiled. “I’ll try not to take too long.”

Mulder nodded, smiling, handing her one of the credit cards that had come courtesy of the Lone Gunmen, and she opened the passenger side door, getting out onto the sidewalk. Nearly an hour and a half later Scully returned to the vehicle, a garment bag in her arms.

“Success?” asked Mulder, watching her buckle her seat belt.

“Yeah, they had some nice stuff,” she replied. It had been a luxurious store, with red-satin walls in a minimalist space, calm and uncluttered and well-stocked. “Thank you. I would’ve been happy with a keychain, you know.”

He smiled. “I know.”

Mulder then put the vehicle into gear and pulled away from the curb. Once they were at the motel, after having stopped for a meal on their way back from the boutique, Scully hung the garment bag up in the closet. Later that night, she lay in bed on her side, staring at the tan curtains covering the large window. It had been nice to get out earlier and do something as normal as shopping. At the moment, very little of their life was spent away from a motel. Since running from those pueblos in New Mexico, their existence seemed to be mostly made of motels rooms, eating and fucking and sleeping, and not much else. While at present this left little to complain about, in the back of her mind she knew such an existence was futile and couldn’t last. She also knew that deep down, her partner was aware of that too.

Suddenly feeling restless, Scully turned back to glance at Mulder, lying on his back and looking up at the ceiling, thinking about an article he’d read in _The New York Times._ She moved to lie on her left side, sliding over to press herself next to him.

“Mulder…,” she whispered.

He turned his head to look at her. “What is it, Scully?”

She sighed. “We can’t stay in Las Vegas forever.”

Turning on his side, Mulder brought his hand up to her face, caressing her gently. “I know we can’t. I think Vegas is okay in small doses. We’ll have to decide pretty soon where we go from here.”

He moved to lie on his back, his arm going around her as she pillowed her head on his chest, stroking her back through her mauve tank top. That was the last they spoke before drifting to sleep, each wondering where they would go from there.

On Friday morning, March 1st, Scully accompanied Mulder down to the motel lobby, where he sat down in front of one of the desktop computers in the common area. She sat in the chair next to him, keeping her eyes peeled on the lobby and motel entrance. After a few minutes she glanced over at the computer screen, reading the information it contained.

“Kansas Academy of Science Council Meeting?” she asked, giving him a skeptical eyebrow.

Mulder turned to look at her and nodded. “Yeah. KAS. There was a blurb in _The Times_ about their annual meeting.”

Scully didn’t really think that explained much. “When was it? And why is this interesting?”

“They haven’t had it yet,” he replied, returning his attention to the computer monitor. “This year the meeting is on April 12th at Fort Hays State University. And it’s interesting because this year’s distinguished lecturer is one Nicholas L. Fischer, a professor at NYU’s Department of Earth and Environmental Sciences. I took his geology class my freshman year.”

“ _Okay_ , but Mulder… why does this interest you now?” she asked.

He turned back to look at her again. “His entire presentation at the KAS meeting will be devoted to magnetite.”

She stared at him, swallowing. “And… you want to go.”

“I just pre-registered us,” Mulder said. “There’s also a luncheon and an evening banquet.” He smirked. “So you’ll certainly get your money’s worth out of those dresses.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea for us to show up there?” she asked, feeling nervous.

Mulder furrowed his brows. “How many people do you know in Kansas, Scully? No one is expecting us to be there. If Bill Jr is worth his salt, he’ll have convinced whoever has asked about us that we’re currently elsewhere. The government couldn’t possibly assume we’d turn up in the town of Hays, Kansas. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Besides, this is important.”

Scully glanced at the computer screen. “What are you hoping to learn?”

“I want answers,” he replied, lowering his voice. “Why magnetite? And not some other metal? Why does it have such a strong effect on them? I just… we need to know more about it.” Mulder had another reason also, a much more personal one, but felt prevented from voicing this aloud. He wasn’t sure how well received it would be by Scully, and refrained from speaking about it.

*****

Early on Friday evening, Scully stepped out of the bathroom and walked over to the closet, slipping her nylon-covered feet into a pair of black stiletto pumps. She then stood in the mirror, taking in her sleeveless dark green A-line cocktail dress with a V-neck that showed _just enough_ cleavage. She wanted to blend in with the crowd, but she didn’t want to be mistaken for a streetwalker. She ran a finger over her eyebrows, having gotten them waxed that morning when she went to the salon for a manicure. It had felt good to once again do things that had been part of her normal routine back home.

Mulder stood buttoning up his white dress shirt, and froze. Her light brown hair hung in soft, loose curls around her shoulders. The dress she wore hugged her bust and waist, before flaring out as it fell to a few inches above her knees.

“You're so beautiful,” said Mulder quietly.

Scully turned to look at him and smiled, feeling herself blush, and averted her eyes, tucking her hair behind an ear.

After Mulder grabbed his navy blue cashmere sweater from closet, pulling it over his head and fixing the white collar of his dress shirt underneath, and Scully donned her black jacket, they departed the motel room. Down in the lobby, the front desk clerk called for a taxi, and soon they were heading down Las Vegas Boulevard towards the Aladdin. The Strip was like a world map sprung to life, with animated versions of New York, Paris, and Venice, flashy hotels, fancy casinos, and giant carnival rides, and enough light bulbs for the entire country.

Soon the taxi deposited Mulder and Scully at the entrance to the Aladdin hotel and casino. A large sign glowed “Elvis Tribute Show: All Shook Up!” in red letters. Mulder looked down at Scully, waggling his eyebrows and grinning. She sighed, shaking her head, fighting to suppress a smirk. He reached down and took her hand in his, threading their fingers, and they walked inside the hotel, where they followed the signs to the Aladdin Theatre.

Mulder’s tickets had gotten them seats up close to the stage, and they were soon waiting for the show to begin.

“Elvis and Priscilla Presley were married in this hotel, you know,” he whispered in Scully’s ear.

“That’s nice,” she replied, and then eyed him suspiciously. “Are you hinting at something? Perhaps involving an Elvis impersonator?”

He started laughing. “No. Just offering up some commentary. But a quickie ceremony at the Elvis Wedding Chapel is available if you’re interested.”

Scully gave him a sarcastic look as the lights turned down, the stage alighting, and suddenly women started screaming. At 7:00 pm, the Elvis tribute artist took the stage, backed by a live band, his rhinestone-studded white jumpsuit glittering like stars under the spotlights. He also wore a white cape attached to his back that made him appear as if he was about to take off in flight. He strutted around for a good minute to make sure everyone got a good look at him, before whipping off the cape and tossing it someone at the side of the stage. The live band kicked it into high gear, and he gyrated and swiveled his hips to raucous laughter along with rowdy cheering and whistling. All around Mulder and Scully were groups of women watching the Elvis performer like they were going to swoop in for the kill at any moment.

Turning his head slowly, Mulder stared at Scully, his eyes slightly widening.

Her eyes met his, and she arched a brow at him. “Don't look at me. This was your idea.”

“At least his voice is pretty damn decent,” Mulder said into her ear, chuckling.

He then turned his attention back to the stage. The crowd was still going crazy, their screams rising with increasing volume. The Elvis performer tossed a red scarf into the audience, and one middle-aged blonde caught it in mid-air, before holding it up tightly in her fist lest anyone should get any stupid ideas of trying to relieve her of her precious trophy. Her friends cheered and whistled.

After about 30 minutes into the performance, there was a growing pile of lingerie on the stage around Elvis, who was still gyrating, perspiring, and swiveling his hips about. Scully had stopped trying to force herself to seem genuinely interested, and was now openly giggling at the ridiculousness of the show. Mulder was bobbing his head to the music, while the crowd continued to go wild around them as the performer entered into the love ballad section of the show.

The Elvis came to the front of the stage and looked out at the crowd. “I’d like to dedicate this next song to a lucky lady in the audience.”

The women went wild, even wilder than they had been before, which Mulder and Scully wouldn’t have thought possible. The performer scanned the crowd, his eyes roaming over the women standing and cheering, waving scarves and fans. His gaze fell on Scully and he paused. Her stomach tightened and she fervently wished Mulder had gotten them tickets in the back.

“How about you, little lady?” he said seductively into the microphone, winking at Scully. “I’ve got a special song, just for you.”

“Oh, God,” she groaned, and Mulder chuckled. She turned and gave him an icy look. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Elvis and the band then broke into “It’s Now or Never.” As Scully sat frozen in her seat, he maintained steady eye contact throughout the song, winking at her often. She slowly turned her head to look at Mulder, who stared agape at the stage. The Elvis then started gyrating his hips in Scully’s general direction, moving his entire body seductively, not taking his eyes off her. _“It’s now or never, my love won’t wait,”_ he crooned into the microphone.

“Let’s make it never!” Mulder shouted at the stage.

Scully burst out laughing.

At 7:50 pm, the performer walked offstage to the roar of the audience. After about five minutes, the audience began stomping their feet and chanting, _Elvis! Elvis! Elvis!_ At 8:00, he returned and the screaming erupted again. The encore included the hits “Burning Love” and “Suspicious Minds,” ending the show with a powerful rendition of The Righteous Brothers’ “Unchained Melody.” The Elvis tribute artist left the stage to a standing ovation and the house lights came back on inside the venue.

The crowd started to disperse, chatting excitedly and making their way out of the Aladdin Theatre and heading into a Friday night on the Las Vegas Strip. Mulder and Scully walked through the hotel, passing by the casino.

“You wanna head in?” he asked her, grinning. “Play some slots?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t press our luck,” she replied, slipping her hand into his.

Mulder then started humming “Good Luck Charm,” and she rolled her eyes as he leaned over and sang _“you sweet delight”_ into her ear.

Scully giggled. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

“Feel free to hurt me later,” he said, lowering his voice.

Licking her lips, she smirked, and they made their way out of the hotel. Getting into a taxi, Mulder and Scully went back down the Strip in the direction of their motel, but he then instructed the driver to drop them off at the Bellagio. They soon were standing outside the entrance.

“What about security cameras?” Scully asked Mulder apprehensively.

“We’re only here for dinner,” he replied quietly. “We’ll be in and out. And I doubt the security team here is aware that I’m a wanted criminal. Who’s going to recognize us?”

She sighed and allowed Mulder to lead her inside. They entered the Bellagio’s elegant lobby and made their way to the buffet restaurant. It reminded them of a small village square, with lamp posts and a variety of plants. The dining area had bright colors with beautiful wall art as well as soft, pleasant lighting. Mulder dined on prime rib while Scully had crab cakes and salad.

He reached across the table to grasp her hand as she took a sip of water. “It’d be nice if we could get some champagne.”

Scully smiled warmly. “We really shouldn’t drink.”

“I know,” said Mulder, his mind filling with pleasant memories. “It’d just be nice, that’s all.”

His eyes roamed over the soft curls in her hair, her mouth, down her neck, to her cleavage protruding from her green dress, her round arm extending towards him, and her hand placed in his. Scully noticed the way he was looking at her, with dilating pupils, licking his lips. She looked into his eyes and she knew they were both remembering the same thing, that night spent in Los Angeles following the premiere of that awful movie, the limo and the champagne and the hotel. They’d been so happy, almost as though they had no cares in the world. It was before Mulder’s abduction, before a dark cloud of uncertainty and fear started to hang over her, before Super Soldiers, UFO cult prophecies, and magnetite entered her awareness.

“In my whole life, I think that was the happiest I’d ever been,” Mulder whispered, his thumb moving in slow circles against the back of her hand. “Those couple months in the spring, after I’d come back from England and before…” He trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence out loud.

Tears pricking her eyes, Scully smiled. “Me too.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “If only we’d known, before…”

The memory of William hung in the air between them, and Mulder gripped Scully’s hand tighter. She sniffed, blinking back her tears. “Let’s get out of here,” she said.

“The restaurant or Las Vegas?” he asked.

She gazed into his eyes. “Both.”

*****

They walked from the Bellagio, knowing Koval Lane and the Super 8 Motel was just a block away. They walked in silence, hand in hand, fingers threaded, Mulder rubbing his thumb in circles over the back of Scully’s small hand. Entering their motel, they crossed the lobby over to the elevator, stepping on and pushing the button for the second floor. As the elevator moved, Mulder and Scully quietly gazed at one another. A loud ding signaled they’d arrived at their floor, and they stepped out of the compartment, before making their way down the hallway towards the fire exit sign.

Standing in front of their room, Mulder pulled out the key and opened the door, allowing Scully to step inside. He then closed and locked the door behind them with both the deadbolt and chain as she flipped one of the light switches on. They stood in the small entryway in front of the mirrored closet doors. Mulder’s hands went to Scully’s jacket, unfastening the buttons and sliding it down and off her arms, before tossing it on the bench against the wall behind them.

Scully’s arms then went up and around his neck, pulling him down towards her, and Mulder pressed his lips to hers, kissing her passionately. They broke to breathe, their foreheads touching as her hands still clung to his neck. He pulled back to look down at her, his hands going to her face, holding her tenderly.

“What do you see when you look at me?” she whispered.

Mulder’s expression turned serious, and he gazed at her, his eyes searching her face, pausing briefly before speaking. “I see… I see what you want me to see. I also think I’m getting better at seeing what you don’t want me to see.” He pursed his lips, and she gave him a half smile. “I see… everything you’ve said to me, everything you’ve done with me, and for me. I see my reasons for everything, and anything, the reason I’m alive.”

She smiled up at him, her fingers brushing gently against his neck.

“I see… an intelligent, beautiful woman,” continued Mulder, his voice just above a whisper. “I see… the mother of my son.”

Scully’s heart swelled, and her breathing quickened as his arms drew her closer to him. Again, she no longer had any desire to censor herself, to keep her thoughts locked up and unuttered. “I want you,” she said. “I want to feel your hard cock that gave me my beautiful son. I want to feel you inside me.”

His eyes widened, flaring with desire. She’d never been all that prone to dirty talk before, but he’d slowly started to see that things were a little different now than a year ago. Scully was a mother. She was one with the earth, passionate and primal. Whatever lingering insecurities or embarrassments that might have played a role before, seemed to have faded away over the course of the previous tumultuous year.

Mulder leaned down towards Scully, smirking. “That Elvis show must’ve done a number on you. I knew you’d love it.”

She shoved her tongue in her cheek, nodding, giving him a slight grin. “I hated every fucking minute of it,” she whispered, pressing her body closer to his, her eyes teasing him.

“You know what I hate?” he asked, bending down towards her.

“Hmm?” she hummed, her lips brushing against his.

He kissed her, and then pulled away. “Every fucking minute I have to wait before being inside you again.”

Scully gasped as Mulder quickly wrapped his arms around her, walking her into the room and towards the bed, which had been turned down in their absence. He sat on the side of the bed and pulled her down onto his lap as she kicked off her heels, her legs wrapping around him, her center radiating heat through the fabric of his dark jeans. Her arms went around his shoulders and her mouth sought his, kissing him hungrily.

“I can’t stand not being inside you,” he groaned between kisses. She moaned in response, and he flipped her over onto the bed, situating her beneath him, and ran his denim-clad hips up between her legs.

“What’s stopping you?” Scully murmured against his lips.

Mulder felt his cock harden further, and he groaned, his hips rocking into hers. Her sweet breath tickled his neck and he fisted his hands in her hair, tugging a little too hard. But Scully’s body arched up into his, delicious and tantalizing, and a soft moan escaped her lips. Mulder did it again, and she repeated the action.

He slid a dark green strap down her arm and kissed the sweet flesh that was exposed along her shoulder.

“God, I want you,” she whispered.

“Fuck, Scully.” He rocked harder into her, trying desperately to relieve the pressure of his aching cock against her hot core.

She moaned. “I’m sick of waiting. Fuck me, Mulder.”

He slid an arm around her body and unzipped the dress, before sitting up and tossing it into the cushioned armchair in the corner. She popped the button on Mulder’s jeans before he lifted off her and pulled his navy blue sweater over his head with one hand as she pulled the denim down his hips. He made swift removal of his jeans, and they too were kicked off to the floor. Scully’s hands came up and helped him unbutton his dress shirt, which was then swiftly tossed to the floor to join his other clothes.

Mulder crashed back into her and sucked in a quick breath when their bodies made hot contact again. He kissed her possessively. He then dipped his head and took one taut pink nipple into his mouth and sucked, laving his tongue along the peak, taking in her taste, drawing the flesh out further. Scully moaned and fisted her fingers in his hair, pulling and whispering his name. It was like angels singing to Mulder’s ears.

He slid a palm down her abdomen, reaching her nylons and removing them. He wanted to draw this out; he wanted to fuck her as hard as he’d ever fucked anyone, but he also wanted to please her, to prolong her pleasure for as long as possible. Mulder’s fingertips reached the end of her black lace underwear, and he pulled them slowly down her hips and off her legs. Scully’s hands then tugged at his boxer briefs and his hard cock was released from the fabric.

“Fuck, please,” she whimpered.

“Please what?” he demanded as he kneaded her other breast in his palm while he sucked her nipple. Her breathing came out in sharp pants. Tonight things were more on the rough side, desperate and hungry.

Scully took his cock in her hand and angled it against her soaking wet center. “Make me yours,” she whispered.

His breath ratcheted up as she slid the engorged head of his cock between her wet folds, up to the hardened bundle of nerves and back down again. “You were always mine,” Mulder groaned through gritted teeth. He arched his cock through her sensitive flesh, making sure to spend extra time at her clit. Scully drew in a sharp breath and bit her bottom lip on a moan.

“For the last nine years,” he said through gritted teeth, “you were mine.” He ran his rigid length through her hot center. “Even when you were with Jerse, you were mine.” He teased his head at her entrance.

“Yes,” she moaned, her hands fisting the sheets. He was driving her insane with lust, turning her into a ball of hot need beneath him.

“Every fucking minute we were apart, you were mine,” Mulder groaned, and they locked eyes, gazing intensely at one another. He slid up her hot core one last time before sinking into the tight wetness of her cunt. They shuddered as they relished their connection.

He thrust in and out of her slowly, letting her adjust to him as she moaned and arched seductively. “You’ll always be mine, Scully.”

“Yes, always. Don’t stop. Oh God, don’t stop,” she panted as he sped up and slammed into her.

Mulder couldn’t hold back anymore. He couldn't survive without her. He slammed into Scully’s sweet body, their pelvic bones meeting, the sound of wet flesh and her soft moans echoing around the room. Her back arched off the mattress, and he sucked a hardened nipple into his mouth, flicking the taut peak with his tongue as her body took him in. With one hand positioning him above her, one digging into the flesh of her hipbone, he dragged his teeth across her nipple.

Scully groaned when he released her soft breast from his mouth, her newly-manicured nails digging into his back. She pulled and dragged her nails across his taut muscles as he thrust into her. Mulder then sat back on his thighs and pulled her along with him, their bodies connected as he thrust up into her. Scully’s legs straddling his, she sat on Mulder’s thighs and wrapped her arms around him, their skin connecting from hip to chest.

She moaned and arched, pulling at his hair. The tension at Scully’s center was coiling tighter and tighter, as she moved her hips to meet every thrust, desperate for release. Mulder glanced down at his hard cock pumping in and out of her body, slick with her wetness, and felt like he was in fucking heaven. With every groan that escaped his throat, her eyes would roll back, the sounds of his pleasure registering across her clit.

A delicious building pressure began to coil even tighter inside her, spreading out from where they joined. Scully slipped a hand between her legs to stroke her throbbing clit. Mulder leaned back slightly to watch her pleasure herself while her hips worked over his lap, his expression taut with desire.

She pumped her hips faster, took him harder as pleasure fired along her nerve endings. Scully gasped, and then moaned as her orgasm rushed towards her. She was on the brink of release.

“Scully, ahh, fuck…,” he moaned, head tipping back, eyes closed and an expression of pure ecstasy on his face.

Desperately in need of release, Scully seized a handful of Mulder’s hair and his eyes flew open. He moved his hands to her hips, holding her in place with him thrusting up inside her, his grip hard enough to leave marks. A dark thrill shot through Scully at his possessive hold, mixing with her rising pleasure until she was writhing over him, frantic.

“Mulder!” she cried, her whole body tightening as he finally released his hold on her in those few seconds before release. Her fingers slicked over her swollen clit in tight circles as she rode him in a hard, desperate rhythm. The sudden onslaught of pleasure took her breath away, and she gasped as she clamped down on him in rhythmic contractions, her climax exploding inside her.

Mulder’s body went rigid beneath her. All those beautiful muscles went stiff, his face a mask of sensual agony as he moaned her name over and over, following her over the edge, filling her core with his own hot release. Breathing hard, suddenly feeling weak all over, Scully draped her arms around Mulder’s shoulders and sank down on his lap. With her face pressed into the crook of his neck, she breathed in the salty, spicy scent of his skin and sighed.

His arms came around her, gently caressing up and down her back. “I don’t know if I can move,” he murmured in her ear.

“Me neither,” she sighed and snuggled closer to him, content to stay where she was.

Mulder wrapped his arms around her tighter, holding her against him. “Do you want to take a shower?”

She kissed his neck. “Later,” she mumbled.

“Do you wanna check out of the motel in the morning and get out of here?” he asked.

“Yes,” she sighed.

He kissed her shoulder and nuzzled her temple, his lips brushing against the top of her cheek. “We don’t need to be in Hays, Kansas till April 12th, you know. Where would you like to go until then?”

Scully leaned back until she was looking into his face. “What’s between here and there?”

“Utah,” he replied, and she pursed her lips. “Um… Colorado.”

They smiled, their eyes full of love and affection. “I like Colorado,” she whispered.

Mulder nodded, gazing at her.

They soon moved back towards the pillows, and Scully curled up next to him, her leg draped over his hip and her head resting in the hollow of his shoulder. She hummed in contentment when Mulder pulled the covers over them and began gliding his soothing hand up and down her back.

“Love you,” she whispered, feeling eternally grateful to be able to tell him in person, for the gift that was his life, his good health, both of which he’d come close to losing many times.

“Love you back,” he said, his voice turning into a sigh, his eyelids becoming heavy and sleep starting to pull him under.

Scully smiled. After a couple minutes, ugly, painful memories began to surface, but she fought hard to suppress them. There would be plenty of time to dwell on everything that was wrong about their lives, to dwell on everything they’d lost. Right now she was exhausted and only wanted to bask in the feel of Mulder’s naked body next to her, to let the steady throb of his heartbeat beneath her cheek and his steady breathing in her ear lull her to sleep.


	126. "Maybe your luck is changing."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully arrive in Colorado, where they are soon faced with an emergency.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One Direction - "Fireproof"
> 
> I think I'm gonna lose my mind  
> Something deep inside me, I can't give up  
> I think I'm gonna lose my mind  
> I roll and I roll till I'm out of luck  
> Yeah, I roll and I roll till I'm out of luck
> 
> I'm feeling something deep inside  
> Hotter than a jet stream burning up  
> I got a feeling deep inside  
> It's taking, it's taking all I got  
> Yeah, it's taking, it's taking all I got
> 
> 'Cause nobody knows you, baby, the way I do  
> And nobody loves you, baby, the way I do  
> It's been so long, it's been so long, maybe we're fireproof  
> 'Cause nobody saves me, baby, the way you do
> 
> I think I'm gonna win this time  
> Riding on the wind and I won't give up  
> I think I'm gonna win this time  
> I roll and I roll till I change my luck  
> Yeah, I roll and I roll till I change my luck
> 
> 'Cause nobody knows you, baby, the way I do  
> And nobody loves you, baby, the way I do  
> It's been so long, it's been so long, we must be fireproof  
> 'Cause nobody saves me, baby, the way you do
> 
> 'Cause nobody knows you, baby, the way I do  
> And nobody loves you, baby, the way I do  
> It's been so long, it's been so long, maybe we're fireproof  
> 'Cause nobody saves me, baby, the way you do

Scully woke up with the sun, and then quietly worked around the darkened motel room, removing clothing from the closet and dresser drawers, placing them neatly back in their suitcases. She glanced over at the bed, where Mulder lay sleeping peacefully on his back. She’d hoped her shower earlier hadn’t woken him up. If it had, he’d obviously had no problem getting back to sleep. She remembered the days of adjoined motel rooms, of tapping on the door that connected them, of finding Mulder asleep with the blankets and sheets bunched up around his legs. In those days, whenever he was able to get some decent sleep, he’d been a restless sleeper, constantly tossing and turning. When their relationship transitioned into a physical one, she got to experience firsthand his restless sleeping habits, sometimes getting kicked in the night. But rather quickly the restlessness began to fade. He not only started to sleep peacefully, but through the night, long enough to actually do him some good.

She walked over and sat down next to him on the edge of the bed. Bringing her hand up, Scully gently caressed his cheek. She hated to wake him, but they needed to get moving. Her hand moved to his shoulder, giving him a slight shake. “Mulder, wake up,” she whispered.

He groaned a little and opened his eyes, blinking. “Scully?”

“Time to get up,” she said.

He sat up, his messy brown hair scrunched up in different directions. “What’s going on?”

Scully laughed. “We’re leaving Las Vegas, remember? Get up, take a shower, get dressed, and let’s go,” she ordered, moving off the bed.

“You sure weren’t a Navy brat for nothing,” Mulder grumbled, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress.

She smirked at him as he made his way into the bathroom, sighing. At 8:05 am on Saturday, March 2nd, Scully and Mulder departed the Super 8 Motel, and left Las Vegas behind. At 9:25, they arrived in Mesquite, Nevada, near the Arizona border, where they stopped for breakfast at Peggy Sue’s, a 1950’s style diner. Once breakfast was eaten and the license plates were once again changed on the SUV, they were on the road at 10:30, getting back onto highway 15, where they drove north, passing through Arizona and then crossing the border into Utah. After merging onto I-70, heading east, they made a quick stop at 1:20 pm in Richfield to fill the gas tank, and then three and a half hours later they were driving through Grand Junction, Colorado. Seeing restaurant signs, Mulder pulled off the highway and quickly found Enzo’s Italiano Café, where they sat at a table by the window and shared a pizza.

At 6:00 pm, Mulder and Scully got back on I-70, departing Grand Junction, and continued east. They drove through the Rocky Mountains as the sun set, the sky slowly darkening. Four hours after they had left Grand Junction behind, they had cleared the mountain range and were heading towards the city of Denver. On the east side of the Rockies, the weather changed dramatically. The temperature dropped, and snow was falling from the sky at a steady pace.

Scully exited highway 70 near Denver and merged onto I-25, where they would drive south for another 50 miles. At just past 11:00 pm, she took exit 142 off highway 25 and they made their way to downtown Colorado Springs. She quickly found a Travelodge, and pulled into the parking lot. Now bundled up against the cold, Mulder and Scully carried their luggage inside their new motel room.

On Sunday morning, Mulder made his way to the front desk and enquired after a decent place to get breakfast. After the clerk told him about King’s Diner on Bijou Street, Mulder and Scully headed out to get some food. While Scully stood in front of the cash register, paying for their meal, Mulder looked over the large cork bulletin board on the wall. His gaze soon fell on an advertisement for cabin rentals just 10 miles from Colorado Springs on highway 24, with weekly and monthly rates available. Mulder grabbed one of the strips of paper hanging below the advertisement. A phone number was printed on it, and he shoved it into the front pocket of his light blue jeans.

“Hey, is there a pay phone around here?” Mulder asked the young woman behind the counter taking Scully’s cash.

“Um, yeah,” she replied, pointing to a hallway down to the left. “Back there next to the restrooms.”

He thanked her, and after exchanging a glance with Scully, who looked at him with brows knitted in confusion, walked back towards the bathrooms. On the wall was a pay phone, and he picked up the receiver as he pulled the strip of paper from his pocket. After speaking with a woman on the phone, he smiled and hung up, before turning around to see Scully approaching him.

“What’s going on, Mulder?” she asked.

He smiled. “I think we could use a break from motel rooms.”

She gave him a questioning look. “As much as I enjoyed our last trip out here, this really isn’t the time of year for camping. We’d freeze.”

“We’re not going camping, Scully,” he chuckled.

Arching an eyebrow, she followed him through the door and back out to the chilly winter air, snow starting to fall again. They checked out of the Travelodge on Monday morning, needing to wait one night for the cabin to be available, and loaded their bags back into the SUV, Mulder then driving out of the city, heading west. The snow was a white sheet over the windshield, the wipers working hard to clear it away. He kept a vigilant watch on the gray road ahead of them, visibility worsening the further they drove from the city. Twenty minutes after having left the motel behind, they turned onto Fountain Creek Road outside the town of Manitou Springs.

*****

The two-story cabin was built into the side of a hill, with a walk out basement and garage at the ground level. From the driveway, a wooden staircase led up to a large porch on the second story, both painted a dark brown. The front door opened up to an open living room with large black leather furniture that looked brand new, which sat atop hardwood flooring. The walls were made of hardwood paneling. The kitchen was adorned with new black appliances nestled in between the wooden cabinets.

Mulder and Scully brought their luggage inside, carrying their bags to the master bedroom. The room was luxurious, with an aspen log custom made bedroom set that included a king sized bed with a bench on the end, two bedside tables that each held an aspen log lamp, full-length mirror, and a tall boy chest of drawers.

As Scully began hanging up some of her clothes in the closet, Mulder laid down on the bed, kicking off his shoes.

“Are you okay?” she asked, turning from the closet to look at him.

“I’m just really tired,” he replied, closing his eyes.

She glanced at the clock on the wall; it wasn’t even noon yet, and he’d gotten over seven hours of sleep the night before. After she hung the last of her clothes, Scully looked out the window. It had stopped snowing. “I think we should drive into town and get some groceries,” she said, still gazing out the window at the snow-covered trees. “The kitchen is empty.”

When Mulder didn’t reply, she turned back and saw that he had already fallen asleep. Scully quietly left the room, shutting the bedroom door behind her, and walked out to the living room. After turning on the television, she found the Weather Channel and saw that a heavy snowstorm was in the forecast for the area over the next couple days. They needed to get to the store, but she didn’t want to leave Mulder there at the cabin alone. Just the thought gave her anxiety.

Walking back into the master bedroom, Scully gently shook Mulder’s shoulder. “Come on. We need to go into town.”

“What?” he asked groggily, blinking himself awake.

“There’s going to be a storm,” she explained. “We need to get some supplies. Not to mention food and water.”

Mulder groaned and sat up. He felt incredibly tired, like his arms and legs just didn’t want to move. He slipped his feet back into his shoes, and they were once again on the road, heading into Manitou Springs, a small town with a population less than 5,000. At Community Foods Store, Mulder pushed a cart around while Scully filled it. She eyed him as she placed a box of his favorite Pop Tarts inside the grocery cart, and thought he was starting to look kind of pale. They made their way up and down the aisles, and when she spotted the pharmacy and the Health & Beauty section, she stopped and paused.

“I think it would be a good idea to stock up on the first aid kit,” Scully said, and started walking towards that section, Mulder pushing the cart behind her.

“Stock up?” he asked incredulously. “We haven’t used anything in it.” He then grimaced as a wave of nausea swept over him.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Mulder?”

He shrugged, and took a deep breath once more before he answered. “It’s probably just a cold coming on.”

Scully eyed him for a moment, and then walked around the aisles next to the pharmacy, grabbing some supplies. After paying for their groceries at the cash register, they drove out of town and back to Fountain Creek Road. The snow was now falling once again at a brisk rate, and by the time they’d gotten all the groceries out of the SUV, up the stairs and into the cabin, they were wet, their cheeks ruddy from the cold.

“Mulder, you need to get out of those clothes right away,” she instructed.

“Are we going to christen the cabin now?” he asked, smirking at her. And then he grimaced again as another wave of nausea suddenly hit.

She sighed and set a grocery bag down on the kitchen countertop, before promptly walking over to him. Scully’s hands made quick work of Mulder’s jacket, taking the zipper down before parting the coat and pushing it down his shoulders. Her hands then grasped his waist, turning him towards the doorway, and she gently pushed him forwards. They walked out of the kitchen, through the living room to the hallway, and into the master bedroom.

He sat on the bed as Scully opened the door leading to the en suite bathroom, where she began filling the white clawfoot bathtub with hot water. Walking back out to the bedroom, she stood in front of Mulder and her hands went to the hem of his long-sleeved navy blue shirt, lifting it up and off as he raised his arms. He then stood and undid the button of his jeans, pulling the zipper down, before stepping out of them. Once his boxer briefs and wet socks were removed, Scully walked a naked Mulder into the bathroom, where he sank down into the tub, sighing at the relief it gave.

Twenty minutes later, Mulder was in the bedroom, drying off and dressing into a warm pair of black sweatpants. He grabbed a clean white undershirt before pulling his heather gray long-sleeved shirt over it. Walking out of the bedroom, he made his way to the living room, where he collapsed on the leather couch, turning on the television that was mounted on the wall in the corner to the right of the brick fireplace.

Scully walked to stand in the doorway and watched Mulder pull down a red wool blanket from the back of the couch, laying it over himself as he watched ESPN sports highlights on the TV. She then turned back to the kitchen, and recalling her mother’s recipe for her homemade chicken soup, she began pulling ingredients from the refrigerator.

On Monday evening, Scully sat in the oversized leather chair watching _Who Wants to Be a Millionaire_ while Mulder was stretched out on the couch, asleep. He had gladly eaten two hearty bowls of soup while they had sat at the wooden table for dinner, and then immediately crashed in the living room. He soon stirred, and then turned his head to the left to look at Scully seated next to him.

“Man, it’s hot in here. It was freezing earlier.”

She didn’t think so, and got up from the chair, stepping over to where he lay on the couch, her hand going to his forehead. Her eyes widened. “Mulder, I think you have a fever, and maybe the chills. Get up and get a glass of water. I’ll be right back.”

Scully walked into the bedroom, and out of her suitcase she removed her small medical bag that included the first aid kit and the new supplies that had been purchased earlier that day. She returned to the living room just as Mulder sat down on the couch with a tall glass of water. Sitting on the coffee table in front of him, she stuck a thermometer in his mouth and her fingertips went to his lymph nodes.

“They don’t feel swollen,” she said. “Does that hurt?”

“Nuh-uhh,” he replied with his mouth shut, shaking his head.

After a moment, Scully removed the thermometer to read it. “It’s 101.5, Mulder. You have a fever.”

He sighed. “Okay. It’s just cold.”

“And a cough, and a fever.”

“Oh, and a headache,” he added. “My whole body aches, really. All over.”

“Let me look at your throat,” she pleaded.

“Why? It not sore,” he sighed. “I’ll drink hot tea and suck on those cough drops you bought, and it’ll go away in a couple days.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Mulder.”

He obediently opened his mouth and she shone her pen light inside to get a good look. His throat looked all right, for now. Her hand then went to his forehead, before her fingers slid through his hair. “How long have you had that headache?”

Mulder sighed. “This isn’t how I imagined our first night in the cabin, you know. Was kind of hoping for a nice fire in the fireplace and you on the floor in front of it, naked.”

“There will be plenty of time for that later,” she said, giving him a small smile, sliding her hand down to feel his cheek. His skin was hot underneath her hand. “You look like death warmed up.”

“Yeah, well, I feel like it,” he muttered, and then pulled away from her hand as he started coughing again, before moving to lie back down on the couch.

Scully stood up from the coffee table and walked inside the bedroom, pulling some over-the-counter medicines from her bag. She then returned to the living room, instructing Mulder to sit up and take them with his glass of water.

“These will help bring your fever down, as well as relieve those body aches,” she told him, shaking some pills out of their bottles and into his palm.

“I knew you were my drug dealer,” he deadpanned.

She furrowed her brows and pursed her lips. “Funny. I’m gonna have to keep an eye on you, make sure it’s nothing serious.”

Mulder groaned and laid down on the couch, turning until his back was to her. Scully tried to administer the best care as he would allow, but he frequently told her that he didn’t want her to catch whatever he had and it wouldn’t do them any good if they both got sick. She assured him that she hadn’t been sick a single day since her cancer went into remission, not even with a head cold. At one point, her hair had been held up with elastic when she’d reminded him of this, and he gazed at the scar on the back of her neck, his mind filling with grim thoughts.

*****

By Tuesday morning, March 5th, Scully had a very sick, tired, and feverish man on her hands. He felt like he was burning up, the over-the-counter medicines doing nothing to bring down his temperature. She worried that it wasn’t just a cold. It could be the flu, or maybe some bacterial infection. If that ended up being the case, she didn’t have what she needed at the cabin. It would take 48 hours for antibiotics to take hold in Mulder’s system, and she only had a sample pack, not enough to last two days. But if he had the flu, antibiotics wouldn’t even touch it.

He soon started vomiting. Later that evening, she watched Mulder pull the waistband of his sweat pants away from his stomach, a look of discomfort on his face. Scully looked at him questioningly.

“It feels tight,” he muttered in response to her unspoken enquiry.

She moved to sit down on the coffee table in front of where he lay on the couch, and she lifted the waistband, gently moving her hand across his abdomen. It was swollen, and when she pressed down near his navel he grimaced in pain. Scully’s mind ruthlessly calculated all of Mulder’s symptoms. Shit. Oh, God. No! It wasn’t a cold. It wasn’t even the flu. It was appendicitis. That would account for his nausea and vomiting as well as the fever symptoms.

With blue eyes widened in fear, Scully gazed down at Mulder, knowing the ultimate outcome of appendicitis if it wasn’t addressed immediately: death. The appendix was swollen, and it was more than likely that at some point, it would burst. The toxicity held in the sac would erupt all over his abdominal cavity, infecting him, and then he’d turn septic. The poisonous material would flood his bloodstream, and he would die from blood poisoning. And once a certain point is reached, no amount of antibiotics in the world would save him once it burst.

Scully also knew that Mulder’s temperature could spiral upwards until it hit a lethal 106 degrees. A temperature that high would kill his brain. He would die from the poison in his blood or go brain dead from the high fever as his body’s own natural defenses tried to kill off the infection before it killed him. Either way, he would die.

“Mulder, I have to get you to a hospital,” she said, terrified, tears pricking her eyes. “I think you have appendicitis.”

“What? Scully, no. No hospitals. They’ll find us.”

She sighed in frustration. “Mulder, I’m sure they could find us wherever we are if they really wanted to. We need to get to a hospital. Your appendix is going to have to come out. This is serious!”

He shook his head. “It’s too risky. A hospital means paperwork and lots of unwanted attention. You can take it out.”

“Mulder, I’m not a surgeon!”

“I trust you, Scully.”

She covered her eyes with her hand momentarily before looking at him again. “But I can’t treat you here. This isn’t a sterile environment. I don’t have the tools to perform a procedure, or the medicines you’ll need. We have to get to a hospital.” She spoke firmly, and stood up from the coffee table, leaning over to grab him by the arms, pulling him up.

After getting Mulder to his feet, and donning him with a coat and shoes, Scully quickly dressed in her black pantsuit and joined him by the front door. It was then opened and they stepped out onto the snow-covered porch, their feet moving through several inches of the white stuff. It took longer than usual getting down the stairs, but soon she was helping him into the back seat of the SUV, instructing him to lie down.

“Thank God for 4-wheel drive,” she said, putting the vehicle into reverse before heading down the driveway towards the road.

Driving on highway 24 back towards Colorado Springs, thankful the snowfall had momentarily stemmed and the road had been recently plowed, they followed blue road signs until they arrived at Penrose Community Hospital at 9:10 pm. Parking the SUV, they made their way inside the hospital. At the reception desk, Scully asked for directions to the ER and the middle-aged woman pointed them in the right direction with a friendly smile. Scully then headed down the hall for the elevators, bypassing the emergency room. Once inside the compartment, she located the correct floor on the map attached to the panel above the buttons, and pushed the one that would take them to the surgical ward.

The hallways were quiet, the vast majority of patients in their rooms, either asleep or watching television. Thankfully, this set of elevators didn’t deposit them anywhere near the nurses’ station on the ward. Stepping out of the compartment and into a waiting room to the left of the elevators, Scully sat Mulder down and told him to wait quietly. After donning a pair of latex gloves, she found the OR Storage Closet, internally thanking God it was unlocked. Inside, she put on a white lab coat with the Penrose Community Hospital logo emblazoned on the upper left chest, and a stethoscope. She grabbed green surgical scrubs, a hospital gown, and some clean linen sheets. A bit further down the hallway, an unused gurney was against the wall, and as quietly as possible, she pushed it back down towards the waiting room where Mulder sat.

Once he was helped onto the gurney, Scully quietly pushed it back down the hallway until she reached an empty room. There she helped Mulder undress out of his clothes and put on the hospital gown. A brand new set of clean sheets were put on the gurney, and they left the room. Scully pushed the gurney until they reached the double doors marked OR – Laparoscopy.

The darkened corridor meant the surgical staff had all gone home for the day, no doubt leaving earlier than usual because of the snow storm. The surgical suites were empty, the patients all in their private or shared rooms out on the ward. Choosing the furthest operating room in the suite, out of sight of the double doors, in order to not be seen by any staff walking by in the hallway outside, Scully moved the gurney into the sterile suite as quickly and as quietly as possible, flipping the light switches as they entered.

“I need to go get the anesthesia,” she said to him. “I’m going to turn off the lights. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

He looked at her and nodded silently, but she saw the fear and anxiety in his eyes.

“It’s going to be okay, Mulder,” she whispered, her hand caressing his face.

Scully then hurried from the surgical suite, making her way back through the double doors and out into the corridor. She then quietly made her way to the room marked Medication Storage. The door was locked. From her black suit jacket pocket, she pulled out the lock-pick kit she’d grabbed from Mulder’s duffel bag back at the cabin. She made quick work of the lock, stepping inside.

Grabbing plastic bags of clear I.V. fluids containing antibiotics from the refrigerated storage cabinet, Scully then found the general anesthesia medication. Mentally recalling Mulder’s tolerance levels, she filled a syringe with the correct amount. She also made sure to grab a small plastic bottle of acetaminophen with No. 3 codeine. After closing and relocking the door behind her, she quickly departed the storage room and made her way back to the surgical suite, where she found the women’s washroom and dressed into her green scrubs.

Soon, Mulder had I.V. fluids entering his system and the anesthesia was pulling him under. Standing at a stainless steel basin, Scully turned on the hot water and began to sterilize her hands and forearms methodically, scrubbing until her skin was red. After drying her hands, she pulled two fresh latex gloves from a nearby box and a surgical mask, and walked into the operating room.

Once she’d checked Mulder’s vitals, relieved that he was doing fine, she took a deep breath and made three small incisions into his abdomen, before passing a laparoscope through one of them and intently watching the images on the video screen.

At 4:30 am on Wednesday, Mulder was finally waking up on the gurney in the empty hospital room out on the surgical ward. Scully sat in a chair, thanking her lucky stars that she’d quickly found the inflamed appendix and that the procedure had only taken one hour. While he’d lain recovering in the room, she’d busied herself with covering their tracks in the surgical suite. Approaching his bedside, with her gloved hands she immediately shoved two pills of acetaminophen with codeine into his palm and a small paper cup filled with water into his other hand. After he gulped down the pills, she gave him a stick of mint gum to chew from the package she’d gotten from the vending machine in the waiting room.

By 5:00, the pain killer began to kick in and she was able to get him to sit up, before helping him slide off the gurney and get to his feet. She grabbed his clothes from the other chair, and helped him get dressed. They needed to get out of the hospital as soon as possible. Grabbing the wheelchair she’d acquired earlier, Scully helped Mulder lower himself into it.

Quietly opening the hospital room door, she stuck her head out to look up and down the hallway. Down the hall to the left, two nurse aides walked side by side, chatting with each other about their snowy drive into work, their backs to Scully. Down the hall to the left, in the direction of the elevators, the corridor was devoid of hospital staff. Stepping back, she opened the door wider and then pushed Mulder through. Less than two minutes later, they were inside the elevator compartment heading for the ground level.

At the reception desk near the hospital entrance an elderly man now sat, and he gave them a smile and a nod as they made their way to the automatic doors. Leaving Mulder outside the doors, Scully quickly reached the SUV in the parking lot and drove around to the entrance, before getting out and helping him into the passenger seat. Once she was back in the driver’s seat, she finally removed the latex gloves from her hands, hoping she hadn’t left any fingerprints behind in the hospital. Glancing over at Mulder, Scully blinked back her tears, and fought hard to bury the emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

The cabin was only 10 miles from Colorado Springs, but their drive was slow-going. The snow was once again falling at a rapid pace, the visibility on the road only a few yards in any direction. It was just about 6:00 am when they finally pulled onto Fountain Creek Road. After helping Mulder up the stairs and into the house, Scully set about changing the license plates on the SUV, in case any hospital security cameras caught it on video in the parking lot, as well as shoveling the snow from the staircase and porch, praying that their escapade inside the hospital would go unnoticed and that Mulder would recover without any complications.

*****

One week later, Mulder was no longer walking around so gingerly and Scully had weaned him down to only 1200 mg of pain killers a day, taking one pill every six hours. On Wednesday night, March 13th, they were curled up together on the couch beneath the wool blanket, watching _The West Wing_ , the moonlit snow sparkling like diamonds outside the living room windows.

As the credits rolled, _Law & Order_ about to begin, Mulder turned his head to look down at Scully nestled against him. “We should probably start preparing for the Kansas Academy of Science council meeting. I registered with fake names, so we should make some I.D. badges.”

“Then we’ll also need to come up with some fake scientific credentials to go along with them,” she said.

“I figure that’s your department, since you rewrote Einstein and all,” he replied, grinning.

Scully gave him an incredulous look. “ _My_ department?”

Mulder nodded. “Yeah. Science. And saving my ass, over and over again. You’re a pro.”

She twitched her mouth, trying to suppress a smirk. “Well, what’s your department?”

He sighed. “Oh, you know… uncovering government conspiracies, finding undeniable evidence of alien existence, breaking and entering…” He smiled. “Making you happy. How would you say I’m doing?”

“With which part?” she asked, her eyes teasing him.

“The last one,” he said, lowering his head closer to hers, his eyes twinkling.

Scully pursed her lips, as if deliberating the answer. She knew this life was far from ideal, but as long as she had him by her side, it was endurable. “I’ll say 9 out of 10.”

Mulder pouted. “Only nine?”

“Well, everyone needs a goal to work towards,” she answered, her mouth curving into a smirk. “I don’t want you to get complacent.”

“Never,” he replied with a wicked grin, his eyes glinting mischievously as he bent his head towards her. His nose rubbed gently with hers, and then he captured her lips with his own. He wasn’t fully recovered yet, and so unfortunately sex was off the table, although not for lack of desire. But Mulder contented himself with holding Scully close to him, his arms wrapping around her, as they exchanged slow, passionate kisses full of warm affection and tender devotion.

Early on Sunday evening, March 17th, Mulder had been off the acetaminophen with codeine for 24 hours and was finally feeling back to normal. The roads had been thoroughly plowed and no snow had fallen in the last three days. While Scully ran into town, he made himself busy around the cabin. When she returned with their dinner from Curly Q’s BBQ and a bottle of Chianti she’d picked up at Creekside Wine & Liquor, the dining table was set for two and there was a fire crackling in the fireplace.

After their dinner had been eaten, Mulder pulled the thick comforter from the guest bed and brought it out to the living room, folding it and placing it atop the soft rug that lay in front of the fireplace. The blaze roared after he added two more wooden logs to the fire, and then he walked around turning the lamps off until the crackling fire was the only light source in the cabin. He then sat down on the couch beside Scully, where they sat close together and finished off the bottle of red wine. Upon placing their empty glasses on the coffee table to join the empty bottle, their lips almost immediately sought the other’s, kissing passionately.

Soon they were sitting together on the blanket in front of the fireplace, Mulder’s legs bent on each side of Scully as she leaned back against him. She closed her eyes, enjoying the soothing warmth of the fire.

“I want to ravish you,” he whispered in her ear.

“I will only let you ravish me after you’ve attended to my needs,” she quipped.

Mulder chuckled, his mouth still at her ear. “Have I ever done anything that would make you think otherwise?”

Scully turned her head to look at him, but before she could make a reply, he pressed his lips to hers, kissing her softly. He then pulled away, and she felt his hands in her hair at the back of her head, his fingers massaging the muscles in her neck and up to the base of her skull. She closed her eyes again, sighing contentedly at his touch.

He then kissed and nuzzled her cheek, and she turned again, capturing his lips. They made slow work of their clothes, removing articles of clothing between slow, tender kisses, taking their time. But soon they there lying on their sides in front of the fire, facing each other. Mulder slipped a hand around to the back of Scully’s neck, brushed the soft curls of her hair aside, and kissed her behind her ear. Then his lips moved to her throat, and she tilted her head back, giving him more room. When he made his way up to her mouth, she opened for him, his tongue sliding inside to caress hers.

Mulder’s hand slid to her center, toying, stroking, and twirling the trimmed auburn curls with his gentle fingers. He then moved past her apex, his fingers slipping into her swollen, wet folds, stroking her softly. Warmth spread out from Scully’s core through her limbs to her fingers and toes. Her soft mewling pants encouraged him, and his fingers began to stroke insistently over her hardened bundle of nerves, knowing how she needed to be touched. The intense burst of release soon gripped her body and she arched under the assault of pleasure.

Removing his fingers from her throbbing nerves, he let them slip back down through her folds, soaking wet with her orgasm. Mulder groaned, blood rushing to his groin, and he scooted himself down while moving Scully over to lie on her back. She was still breathing heavily, eyes closed, recovering from her climax, when his face was suddenly between her legs, tasting her, drawing her wet folds into his hot mouth, his tongue laving over her sensitive flesh.

Scully sighed, and let out a soft moan, spreading her legs further, and then held her breath as Mulder’s tongue lapped up through her hot center with excruciating slowness. But then he quickly starting sucking on her engorged bud, and he slid two fingers inside her core, curling them up and stroking hard against that particularly sensitive area in her front wall. It wasn’t long before that indescribable tension coiled tightly inside her, and once again her body went rigid and arched as another orgasmic release crashed over her.

Mulder slid back up and gently pulled Scully to lie back on her side facing him. He grabbed her leg, bringing it over his hip, and angling their bodies in front of the warm, crackling fire, he slid his aching cock easily inside her cunt to the hilt, inch after hard inch. His thrusts were slow and deep, his hand softly caressing up and down her leg, while his other palm slid over her ass.

He soon re-fired all her nerves, and Scully was once again panting and whimpering his name. Mulder moved his hand from her leg, down her abdomen to her wet center, and began to stroke her swollen clit in tight circles, knowing how to please her. Behind her, Scully felt his other hand move down from her ass to her center, his thumb gathering her wetness and sliding back towards her anus. She tensed, and then her eyes rolled as he slid his thumb inside her. Quickly, Mulder brought her to yet another peak, and then again another one, her loud moans filling the living room. As her muscles clenched around him, he was instantly brought to the precipice of his own release, his moans joining hers, and he groaned as he filled her with his warmth.

Feeling a sudden wave of emotions, emotions she’d been trying hard to fight back since Mulder had gotten ill, Scully pressed her face in his chest and began to cry. His arms wrapped around her and he began whispering softly in her ear.

“What is it, Scully?”

She didn’t reply at first, and so he asked again, hoping she would open up to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t lose you,” she cried.

He sighed, holding her tighter against him. “You’re not gonna lose me. What happened to having some faith, huh? Sound familiar?”

She pulled her tear-stained face back from his chest and looked at him. “I know, but what if our luck runs out? There may come a day when I can’t save you.”

Mulder brought his hand up to her face, gently wiping the tears from her cheek. “We make our own luck. And maybe it's finally changing. They tried to kill me. They tried to kill you. They tried to tear us apart, but they failed. We've won. Here we are, together. Did you think a little swollen appendix was gonna be the end of us?”

Scully choked back a sob, and let out a shuddering breath as he grinned at her. She wished he wouldn’t take what happened so lightly, having done nothing but make jokes since returning from the hospital. She also wasn't so sure about whether or not _they_ failed, or whether or not she and Mulder had actually won anything. So much had been lost.

“Every time something tries to destroy us, we rise above, stronger than ever,” he whispered. “Including my now long lost appendix.”

She rolled her eyes, tears still rolling down her cheeks. “Would you just shut up and hold me for a few minutes? In silence.”

He laughed. “I hope you’re truly ready for a life with Spooky Mulder, 24/7.”

“Well, I am Mrs. Spooky, aren’t I?” she quipped.

“Only if you want to be,” he replied, whispering. She’d saved his life yet again, and Mulder had been again reminded of just how capable she was, just how many talents she possessed, and just how much of her life had been wasted on him, how much she’d lost, and how dismal an existence he’d now cursed her into leading.

She snorted, shaking her head and wiping the tears from her face. Later that night while they lay in bed, and long after Mulder had fallen asleep, Scully lay awake on her side, wondering what he had meant by that statement. The more she thought about it, the sadder his tone of voice resounded in her head and the more sorrowful his eyes became as he'd said it.


	127. "If you were unprepared for all the potentials, then you shouldn’t step on the field."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events inside Penrose Community Hospital become public, forcing Mulder and Scully to make adjustments. A dangerous threat looms on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping At Last - "All Through the Night" (Cyndi Lauper)
> 
> All through the night, I'll be awake and I'll be with you  
> All through the night, this precious time, when time is new  
> All through the night today, knowing that we feel the same without saying  
> The same without saying
> 
> We have no past, we won't reach back  
> Keep with me forward all through the night  
> And once we start a meter clicks  
> And it goes running all through the night  
> Until it ends, there is no end
> 
> All through the night a stray cat is crying, stray cat sings back  
> All through the night, they have forgotten what by day they lack  
> Under those white street lamps, there is a little chance they may see  
> A chance they may see
> 
> We have no past, we won't reach back  
> Keep with me forward all through the night  
> And once we start the meter clicks  
> It goes running all through the night
> 
> Until it ends there is no end  
> Keep with me forward all through the night  
> And once we start, the meter clicks  
> And goes running all through the night  
> Until it ends, there is no end  
> Keep with me forward all through the night  
> Keep with me all through the night

On Thursday afternoon, March 21st, Scully stood in front of the large window as flames leapt and danced in the fireplace, the living room filled with an earthy scent and the sound of crackling firewood. Several days before, snow had once again begun to fall in heavy flakes, and the cabin had grown significantly colder. As she ran a hand through her straight blonde hair, tucking it behind an ear, she saw the irony in their present situation, knowing most people would think it was ideal, even romantic. A secluded cabin in the Colorado woods, a warm and cozy fire, a white blanket of snow covering everything outside. But appearances were deceptive.

The driveway was devoid of their vehicle, having been moved inside the garage and out of sight. Every few minutes Scully would watch Mulder appear as he walked by the front of the cabin. He had donned a winter coat and hat, and he carried a black 9mm pistol in one of his gloved hands as he checked the perimeter of the property. With a quick glance up at the window, he made brief eye contact, and then she watched him disappear from sight once again, her stomach full of nerves.

A mixture of anxiety and fear permeated his bones as Mulder stalked along the border, examining the invisible barrier of the property line with intense scrutiny. He made his way down the long driveway, the cabin disappearing from sight. Upon reaching the end, he gazed up and down Fountain Creek Road, but no traffic could be seen nor any persons, human or otherwise. He then quickly turned back up the driveway, not wanting to spend too much time where the cabin wasn’t within his line of sight.

Mulder circled the place they were currently calling home, stepping in zigzag paths through the trees, leaving footprints behind in the snow. The air was cold and he was breathing heavily. Sweat formed at his brow as his face reddened against the chill. He hadn’t shaved since returning from the hospital, and the stubble along his jaw, chin, and across his cheeks was now becoming more obvious, no longer just a five o’clock shadow, but the early stages of a real beard. He pushed through snowy tree limbs, trying to ignore his feet that were growing more frozen.

In the last 24 hours, a foot of snow had fallen and Mulder sighed as he remembered that the weather forecast was calling for a lot more. He'd been hoping to leave the area over the weekend, but if the snow kept coming at such a steady rate, he didn't know when they'd get out of there. No birds flitted through the evergreen trees and the overcast skies prevented the sun from shining down through the patches of clear spots in the canopy above him. Shadows crept over the snowy ground and the air was almost stifling, as if countless years hung heavy among the branches.

*****

He sat in a small café in Denver, drinking his regular cappuccino. The place was quite busy, many people apparently needing large doses of caffeine and sugar to get through their Tuesday morning. He’d gone out earlier and drove into downtown to his favorite coffee shop. This had been his regular morning routine for the last two years, in whatever city he happened to be residing in, at least whenever he wasn’t out on an assignment. He sat in front of the window and watched a plow go by, pushing the snow to the right of the street even as more fell from the skies above. Tomorrow was the first day of spring. It had been rather unusual to get so much snow this late in March, but he didn’t mind. Snow never bothered him. Very few things did.

The pretty girl from behind the counter approached him, giving him a smile and asking if there was anything else she could do for him. Immediately, explicit and lurid images filled his mind, her screams of pleasure and excruciating pain, but he kept his face expressionless. He assured her that he was fine and didn’t need anything else. With a slight look of disappointment, she gave him a nod and left the table to return to the counter. One Saturday a couple months back, she’d struck up the courage to ask him his name. He’d given her one he rarely used, and had only done so when in foreign territories. He had many names.

Eight years ago, he’d joined the Marines as a young man. He’d just graduated from Princeton with a bachelor’s degree in psychology, and was recruited hard by the military. He’d also been a star college athlete on the university’s football team, and the military had sent a man around about once a month his entire senior year, who did nothing but chain smoke and promise to show him things he could never even dream of. Eventually, the life the old man was offering him started to sound appealing. After a year of rigorous training that had nearly broken him, physically and mentally, he’d joined a strategic special operations project that was such a closely guarded secret it didn’t even have a name, and his special ops team was only known inside the Department of Defense as a number – 24.

There were only 24 men on the team, he included. In those first four years, he’d irrevocably bonded with his comrades, both on the job and off. On June 4, 1998, they were given their last mission as a team, and were made to believe that the future of Team 24 would be determined by their failure or success. They were only given necessary details, cold facts and figures. Reasons and questions like “why” never entered the picture. They had orders, and orders were meant to be obeyed without question.

In a rugged Russian valley near a place called Tunguska, that was far away from cities or other highly populated areas, sat a compound known only to his team as Site V. Its architecture made it appear to be a combination of an undistinguished college campus and a first-class refugee camp. Cheap concrete buildings, large tents, and a handful of trailers made up its grounds, which were surrounded by a chain link fence with large iron gates at several entrance points around the perimeter.

It had been just past 3:30 am when the attack commenced. Their FGM-148 Javelin anti-tank missiles took out the fortified entry gates. Mortar bombs blanketed the area, obliterating vital infrastructure and security control points. By the time they had breached the perimeter, the compound was in complete chaos.

The many well-trained Russian guards tasked with the compound’s security had been no match for the 24 Marines who had assailed them. Dressed head to toe in black, armed with short-range assault weapons and specialized night vision goggles, the American combatants had appeared just long enough to engage each guard and then disappear back into darkness before the bodies of their victims had even hit the ground.

At the main concrete building, he was part of a small detachment from the team that used a charge to blow off the fortified steel door. As they rushed in, they discovered a large room holding many concrete tables covered in chicken wire. The room was definitely used for something sinister, but there was no time to wonder at it, and they moved swiftly towards the other end of the room.

Armed with their night vision goggles, he and his team swept through the building, making sure they killed every single occupant before reaching a room with several computers. The occupants had already destroyed them, no doubt in hopes of eliminating the data contained inside. But that didn't matter. The old man had assured them that one of his spies had infiltrated Site V at an earlier time, an American who spoke fluent Russian, and had already extracted copies of the data the computers contained. They then quickly found another room, being used as cold storage. While his teammate immediately lowered a backpack to the floor, he forced open a stainless steel refrigerator. Inside were hundreds of small vials, all containing a light amber-colored liquid. They were all removed and placed inside his teammate’s bag.

From there, they moved on and cleared the adjacent building, taking out the godforsaken prisoners being held in the cells, while the rest of the team took care of the remaining concrete buildings, tents, and trailers. Not a single member of Site V had been left alive, Russian guard, worker, or prisoner. Ten minutes later, three black helicopters landed to extract his team, and they disappeared into the night sky.

On his chopper, the old man sat in the front seat beside the pilot, lighting a cigarette. “Were all the tactical objectives met with success?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good,” he'd replied, before bringing the cigarette to his mouth. He then said nothing more.

The sudden buzzing sound of his vibrating cell phone took him out of his reverie. He flipped open the phone and read the message. One second later, he was standing up from his chair in front of the window, and after placing three one-dollar bills down on the table, he walked out of the café. Getting into his Jeep, he pulled away from the curb and began making his way out of Denver, heading for Fort Carson.

*****

Scully remained ramrod straight in front of the large living room window, waiting for Mulder to appear again, nervously twirling her gold cross between her thumb and forefinger. With a sigh of relief, she saw him emerge from the tree line to the right of the cabin and make his way towards the driveway down below. He walked to the bottom of the stairs and began to climb up to the porch. She moved quickly to stand in front of the small, frosty window set into the front door, and watched Mulder approach.

A moment later he was in front of the door. Snow covered his hat and coat, a few flakes clinging to his eyebrows and the ends of his lashes. His hand went to the knob, but it was locked. Mulder gazed at Scully through the window with serious green eyes, and nodded his approval.

“What’s my name?” she called through the window.

“Laura Petrie,” he answered, giving her the name they’d prearranged as the sign that he was really himself. A smile then started to spread across his face, and his somber expression immediately lit with a wild, glorious glow. “Like the dish.”

Rolling her eyes, Scully suppressed a smirk and unlocked the door, standing aside as she opened it. “Anything?” she asked as he stepped over the threshold.

Mulder shook his head. “Nope. All clear. Anything else on the news?”

“No, nothing new,” she replied.

Late on Monday morning, the 18th, Mulder and Scully had arrived back at the cabin with a carful of groceries. While she’d busied herself putting things away in the kitchen, Mulder had turned on the television in the living room. A local television station then aired a report on the 12 o’clock news about recent suspicious activity at Penrose Community Hospital. The anchorman stated that missing medications from the hospital’s inventory had been initially treated with a standard internal investigation that eventually turned up nothing. The hospital then began reviewing security tapes, and they had contacted local authorities that morning concerning possible illegal activity.

The anchorman provided commentary as some slightly blurry footage from an elevator camera showed a tall man accompanied by a woman with brown curly hair standing in the compartment after 9:00 pm on Tuesday, March 5th. The footage showed the same couple in the elevator roughly eight hours later, this time the man was in a wheelchair. The hospital did not know their identities, as neither could be confirmed as patients. The Colorado Springs Police Department was requesting anyone with information to please contact them right away.

After the news report aired, Mulder hurriedly made to leave the cabin, telling Scully to grab her coat, and they were out the door before she could really question him. They drove into Manitou Springs and stopped at the local supermarket, where she ran inside and quickly picked out a hair color kit along with some other personal items so as not to raise any suspicions. He remained in the vehicle and waited out front for her to return, not bothering to head for a parking space.

That afternoon when they had returned to the cabin, Scully holed herself up in the bathroom. An hour went by, and then Mulder tapped lightly on the door.

“Yeah?” she’d answered quietly.

He opened the door and saw her standing in front of the sink, gazing at herself in the mirror. Her hair was champagne blonde and she had blown-dried it straight, soft curls no longer. She heaved a deep sigh.

Mulder walked over to stand behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist, his chin resting lightly at the top of her head. “You don’t like it?” he’d asked softly.

“Do you?”

“It’s different, but that’s not always a bad thing,” he’d said, smiling. His eyes met her large blue ones in the mirror, seeing the stress and anxiety behind them. “You’re the most beautiful woman on the planet, no matter what your hair color is.”

Scully sighed. Her looks were the last of her worries. On the surface, life on the run, she and Mulder against the world, riding off into the sunset with a world of possibilities in front of them, seemed chock full of idealistic romanticism. But reality was turning into something very different. Deep down, her heart yearned for something resembling normalcy, a life and a home. Their time spent in the cabin, getting out of those stale motel rooms, had shown her a glimpse of what that could look like. But it was now shattering. Chasing after monsters in the dark now seemed much easier and a lot less futile than this new life they were trying to make for themselves. They seemed to be doomed to an existence filled with dreams deferred and hopes unrealized.

“I just… I just don’t feel like myself, I guess.”

Mulder bent his head, leaning over and kissing her temple. “You can always dye it a different color later,” he whispered in her ear, before gazing back at her in the mirror.

“We need to start packing,” she said, averting her eyes, and started to pull herself free from his hold. “We should leave when it starts to get dark.”

“All right,” he’d replied, but he didn’t release her, maintaining his hold around her waist and staring at her in the mirror. The longer she went without meeting his eyes, the more his stomach had knotted, a feeling of uneasiness coming over him. “Scully, I know… I know this isn’t easy,” he whispered. “I hope you know that I understand all that you’ve lost, all that you’ve given up. And I hope you know just how much I need you, Scully. Now more than ever.”

She looked up and gazed at him in the mirror, their eyes meeting. She sighed, and gave him a small smile. “I’m not going anywhere, Mulder. Don’t you remember my speech at that FBI banquet?”

He gave her a slight grin, nodding. "I thought you didn't want to talk about the past."

She averted her eyes again, and didn't reply. He dropped his arms from her waist and let her go, silently staring after her departing back. He had remembered. He inspired her, challenged her, and encouraged her. But he knew that, either directly or indirectly, it was also in his very nature to inflict harm, and Mulder worried just what this life with him would cost her, worried that regret was starting to arise.

The five o’clock local news on Monday had released further information from the police investigation into the medication theft at Penrose Community Hospital, including the make, model, and color of the vehicle the mysterious couple was suspected of driving. The TV anchorwoman had revealed that the police were unsure as to whether the couple resided in the Colorado Springs area or not, and again asked the public to come forward with any available information.

Knowing local law enforcement would be on the lookout, Mulder and Scully had agreed that the best plan for the moment was to remain right where they were, and the SUV had been moved from the driveway inside the garage. He had taken up regular perimeter checks around the property and they’d worked out contingency plans in case law enforcement showed up at the cabin, or the owners turned up and started asking them questions. They’d hoped to remain at the cabin and out of sight until the police hopefully turned up nothing, and then they’d quietly make their way out of town.

Scully closed and locked the door, before turning to watch Mulder hang his hat and coat on the rack. “It’s really starting to come down out there,” he said, running his hand across his cheekbones, still getting used to the new hair growth.

“The weatherman said we’ll get another foot of snow in the next 24 hours,” she replied.

He sighed and moved into the living room, sitting down on the couch. “The fire feels nice, though.”

She gave him a smile, and returned to the window, gazing out at the blanket of white, twirling her gold cross between her fingers, her stomach full of nerves.

*****

Once he’d arrived at Fort Carson, an Army base just south of the Colorado Springs city limits, he was quickly ushered to a room where he met with Colonel Aaron Thorne, who oversaw command of the 10th Special Forces Group. His various assignments always came to him from the Department of Defense, the information relayed to him from a variety of colonels, majors, and master sergeants. He didn’t know these men. He merely received his orders and promptly obeyed them. Currently residing in Denver, he’d been called to the nearest military base.

Inside the room, he was shown camera footage of some kind of hospital break in, of a man and woman who were either still in the Colorado Springs area or had traveled through the area recently. His assignment was to track them down. If he could administer the kill quickly and quietly, that would be acceptable. If he could simply scare them enough to drive them deeper underground, that was also a welcomed outcome. Simple enough. But he knew firsthand that assignments, no matter how they appeared, were rarely simple. He was given their names and photos, and his eyes widened slightly, adrenaline beginning to course through his veins. Typically, he never had any idea who his targets were, or why the government needed them removed. He had no idea why someone like him needed to be called instead of having the local law enforcement agencies apprehend the targets. But gazing down at the two photos in his hands, these new targets were unlike any he’d had previously. He knew exactly who they were.

A long time ago he’d stopped asking questions. He’d quickly learned that answers were rarely given, and it was in his best interests to know as little as possible. However, most of the time someone like him was called in so that the targets could be taken out as quietly as possible so that the government could carry out its agenda without the general public’s knowledge. Getting city police and county sheriffs involved meant a trail of paperwork, not to mention newspaper articles and TV reports. His two new targets would certainly attract a lot of public attention, the kind of attention the Defense Department wanted to avoid at all cost.

Colorado was fairly quiet, as far as assignments went. He’d never carried one out there before. Typically he was called out to the usual places, like Las Vegas or Los Angeles, but most assignments required him to travel outside the country. To receive an assignment locally had been wholly unexpected. But, as far as he knew, he was the only DIA-super agent currently in the state of Colorado. Of course, he was only guessing. He had no idea where the others were. They always worked alone, and they never communicated with one another.

Two months following their June 1998 mission in Russia, Team 24 had been called to Mount Weather, Virginia. The top Defense Department officials were there, including the old man, sitting in the upper right corner of the large room, puffing on those cigarettes of his. The word around Capitol Hill was that he’d spent a great deal of time in Antarctica and Tunisia over the summer, although no one knew why. But that was nothing new. The old man’s actions had never been widely known, even by high ranking members of the government, or at least that’s what he’d heard. He himself had the privilege, if that was the word, of working under the old man’s command on numerous assignments, and even he couldn’t begin to know all that the guy was involved in.

After sitting down in the group of chairs designated for he and his teammates, where they’d expected to be receiving another mission, they were informed that 24 was being disbanded. Each individual member would be given a special assignment, one of his choosing. The Defense Department was setting up two new projects, and members of Team 24 would be offered top spots in the outworking of the new projects’ objectives.

One project came under the umbrella of the Defense Intelligence Agency. It would be made up of stealth operatives, who would work alone, in the shadows, their knowledge, skills, and abilities fine-tuned until they were the most lethal spies and assassins in the world. Those CIA bastards would have nothing on them. Another project would be made up of Marines who would dedicate themselves into becoming the best combatants the world had ever seen, superior soldiers. The 24 members had their choice. They were also given the opportunity to return to the life of regular Marines, at a base of their choosing and a high rank to go with it, or retire from the military altogether with a handsome pension. No one chose retirement.

Upon exiting Fort Carson, he drove into the city of Colorado Springs and made his way to Penrose Community Hospital, where he met with the chief administrator, a middle-aged woman with graying auburn hair, and introduced himself as the new investigator assigned to the case. He was taken up to the surgical ward where a new video tape had just been discovered that morning.

“On the night of March 5th, our video equipment had been used,” the administrator said. “Our staff discovered that a surgery had been recorded that night.”

“Don’t you record all surgeries?” he asked her.

She nodded. “Yes, we do. And on the video, we also record the patient’s name, hospital record number, and the name of the surgeon performing the procedure.” She then turned and inserted a video tape into the VCR that was underneath a Toshiba television set, and suddenly they were looking at what appeared to be someone’s insides. The time and date also flashed in the bottom right corner of the screen.

“That night, a laparoscopic procedure was done, an appendectomy,” she continued. “But there are no patient or physician details on the tape, nor were any surgeries scheduled that night. No patient at this hospital had this procedure on March 5th, nor the day before or after."

He stared at the screen. “Was the surgery performed correctly?”

She sighed, nodding. “Yes.”

“So you would say the person performing the surgery knew what she was doing?” he asked. “That she had medical training?”

The administrator glanced at him. “Yes, I would. Very good training, too, by the looks of it.” She then stared at him a moment. “What makes you think the person who did this is female?”

He stared at her. “There was a man and a woman on the security tapes from the elevator. The man seemed to be in rough shape, wouldn’t you say?”

She licked her lips, nodding her head. “So the woman performed an emergency appendectomy on that man? But why wouldn’t she just have admitted him to the emergency room? Why go through all the trouble with performing the surgery herself?”

Fighting back a smirk, he merely shrugged. “Oh, you know… health insurance is a real hassle these days.”

He ignored her disbelieving look and he thanked her for her time, assuring her that the police would get back to her as soon as they had any breaks in the case. He then left the hospital and got behind the steering wheel of his Jeep out in the snow-covered parking lot. He started the engine and turned on the heater, before mulling over the information he knew. It would take one to two weeks to recover from the surgery, and so his targets couldn’t have traveled anywhere far. The current snowfall could also likely prevent them from moving out of the area anytime soon. He reached to open the glove compartment, pulling out a phonebook and flipping to the yellow pages. Adrenaline began coursing through his veins as he felt the familiar excitement build in the pit of his stomach. This was what he loved doing. He was on the hunt, out for the kill. Putting the Jeep into reverse, he backed out of the parking space and started heading for the closest motel.

*****

At 9:30 on Thursday night, Mulder exited the bathroom and walked through the living room, passing the warm flames in the fireplace, to the kitchen, where Scully was standing in front of the counter washing their dinner dishes. He stopped in the doorway, and leaned against the frame.

“I drew you a hot bath,” he said. “Let me finish up here.”

She turned and looked at him, a surprised smile spreading on her face. “Thank you.”

He nodded, smiling as she put down the sponge. She walked towards him and he moved aside so she could go through the doorway. As she was passing him, he reached down and grasped her waist, turning her to face him. Mulder gazed down at her, his eyes searching her face. She’d been quiet all afternoon, and quiet all through dinner as he’d rambled on about the upcoming Kansas Academy of Science meeting next month and all that he’d remembered about his former professor, Nicholas Griffin.

She looked up at him, seeing worry and sadness behind his eyes. Scully gave him an encouraging smile, and gazed at him as her arms wrapped around his waist. His expression brightened a little, and he bent down, pressing his lips softly to hers. But just a moment later, she pulled away and stepped back, turning to head towards her waiting bath. Mulder stared after her, that unsettling feeling of uneasiness still lingering.

Scully undressed in the bedroom and then stepped into the en suite bathroom, before lowering herself into the tub. She closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of contented relief. Several minutes later, she had the sudden feeling she was being watched, and she jerked her eyes open, hurriedly sitting upright. But it was only Mulder, leaning in the doorway to the bedroom.

“You scared me,” she reprimanded.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “But… who else would it be?”

Averting her eyes from his, her fears began to rise up. They could be found, easily. Scully was sure of it. She was also sure that if the local report on the Colorado Springs news circulated enough, it would be rather easy for interested parties to tell who was in that footage. Those Super Soldiers could find them, and as much as Mulder was on a magnetite kick lately, there certainly was none in the cabin. They were defenseless.

He gazed at her naked torso, and felt a ball of desire begin to tighten in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t touched her since last Sunday night out in the living room in front of the fire. “Want some company?”

“One of us needs to keep on the watch, Mulder. We can’t both be distracted. What if someone comes into the cabin?”

“They can watch,” he said in a low voice, his eyes darkening.

Scully pursed her lips, giving him an unamused look.

Mulder sighed, nodding his head, his expression turning serious. “All right, fine.” He then turned and walked away from the bathroom without another word.

Her face fell and she sank back down into the hot water, heaving a frustrated sigh. A little while later, she stepped out of the tub and dried off, before entering the bedroom and slipping into her white satin robe. Scully crossed to the bedroom doorway, stepping quietly out to the hallway, and walked towards the living room. Mulder was standing in front of the window, gazing out at the blanket of snow, a sparkling pale blue covering the ground and the trees surrounding the cabin.

“Will you be coming to bed soon?” she asked.

He turned to look at her, meeting her questioning gaze. “One of us should stay up through the night. You should head to bed; get some sleep. I won’t be distracted out here.”

Scully stared at him as he turned from her to resume his watch at the window. She nodded quietly. She wanted to speak, but didn’t know what to say, so she turned and walked back to the bedroom. She lay down in bed and tried to sleep, but after a while she gave it up as a vain pursuit. Scully suddenly felt ashamed as she realized that she’d grown more and more silent ever since returning from the hospital, more distant with him. Her silence had grown even more over the past few days, since the news report broke.

Over the years, Mulder had always been good about respecting her silence, her need for distance, rarely pushing her or making demands. And by respecting her silence, he was granted his own, leaving countless unspoken things between them. Most of the time they didn’t need the words. With just a look or the tone of their voices, they knew how deep their feelings ran underneath the surface.

But there was a time when things weren’t so good between them, and they were afraid to speak, reluctant to form bigger cracks in their partnership, when the emergence of Diana Fowley had perhaps forced them to realize there were cracks there at all. There had been enough cracks in their lives already, everyone and everything around them, their families and their work, cracked or cracking, even themselves and what they were to each other. Something had to keep them bound. Silence became the glue that was going to hold them together, and they laid it on thick.

That silent, distant year they’d spent frustrated, lonely, and miserable had taught Scully a vital truth: if one of them wasn’t happy, the other could never be. She didn't want to go backwards, she wanted to move forward. Tears pricked her eyes, and she rolled out of bed. She left the room and stepped back out to the hallway. The hardwood floor was cold against her bare feet, and when she rounded the corner, she was met with the warm glow of the living room. Mulder had kept the fire going.

He sat on the couch, staring at the muted television. Sensing her presence, he turned his head to see her standing in the opening to the hallway, in her white robe, her blonde hair tucked behind her ears. She gave him a half smile, and she seemed hesitant.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I was a jerk.”

Scully shook her head and walked to stand in front of where he sat on the couch. She then lowered herself over him, straddling his lap. Mulder smiled, his eyes widening in slight surprise, as her arms went around his shoulders and she hugged him to her, pressing her face into his neck. With his right hand, he grabbed the wool blanket and draped it over her back, before putting his arms around her, holding her closer.

She lifted her head to look at him, and then kissed his lips with her own. They were soft, firm, and warm, and salty from sunflower seeds. She smiled at the comforting familiarity of it. Her hands went to the hem of his black t-shirt, and she began to push it upwards.

Mulder leaned back, pulling out of the kiss to look at her. “What about distractions and the need to remain vigilant?”

“I can’t sleep, and I need some distractions right now,” Scully whispered, and then grinned. “And you’re my favorite one.” Her face became slightly more serious. “I don’t want to be alone. I want to be out here, with you. We can both stay up through the night.”

He nodded, giving her a little smile and a hopeful look. She returned his loving gaze with her own, and his smile became much warmer, more confident. Her hands moved down to her waist, and she untied the white sash, her robe falling open, revealing her bare skin underneath. With one hand moving to the back of her neck Mulder pulled Scully to him, and his lips descended on hers. Slowly, deliberately, his tongue unfolded in her mouth and she moaned into his kiss, as his hands went to the front of her robe, pushing it down her shoulders.

As the fire in the cabin’s living room hearth filled the room with its warmth, the faces of its two occupants flushed from exertion, their features full of sensual satisfaction, outside in the cold night air someone dangerous lurked. He was careful to stay out of the moonlight and under the shadow of the trees, the night cold closing around him as he gazed up at the large window through a pair of binoculars, surmising that the room on the other side must be lit by the glow of a fireplace.


	128. "The conquest of fear lies in the moment of its acceptance."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The DIA agent carries out an assignment. Mulder and Scully come to the horrifying realization of the immediate danger they are in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Korn - "Blind"
> 
> Are you ready
> 
> This place inside my mind, a place I like to hide  
> You don't know the chances  
> What if I should die  
> A place inside my brain, another kind of pain  
> You don't know the chances  
> I'm so blind, blind
> 
> Another place I find to escape the pain inside  
> You don't know the chances  
> What if I should die  
> A place inside my brain, another kind of pain  
> You don't know the chances  
> I'm so blind, blind
> 
> Deeper and deeper and deeper as I dream to  
> Live a life that seems to be  
> A lost reality  
> That can never find a way to reach my inner  
> Self esteem is low, how deep can I go, in the ground that I lay  
> If I don't find a way to see through the gray that clouds my mind  
> This time I look to see what's between the lines
> 
> I can't see, I can't see, I'm going blind  
> I can't see, I can't see, I'm going blind  
> I can't see, I can't see, I'm going blind  
> I can't see, I can't see, I'm going blind  
> I'm blind

Early on Friday morning, March 22nd, Mulder stood in front of the large living room window that overlooked the front porch. The winter wonderland outside was a dull gray, the sparkling pale blue having faded with the moon, and waited for the sun to rise to sparkle once more. As he gazed out the window, he saw that the snowfall had completely covered his tracks from the night before, his footprints no longer visible across the front of the cabin and on the porch. A foot of snow covered the driveway that led to Fountain Creek Road, and there was no sign of anyone or anything having disturbed it. He wondered when the owner would show up again to plow them out, and hoped it would be sooner rather than later. He was growing more and more anxious to leave Colorado behind.

Scully stirred on the couch. “It’s cold,” she murmured, her eyes closed, and wrapped the wool blanket tighter around her, trying to fall back to sleep.

Mulder turned to look at her with heavy eyelids. She’d fallen asleep about two hours before, having stayed awake with him for as long as she could. During the night he had let the fire eventually die out, but now he was no longer on the couch with her, keeping her warm. He crossed the room, stepping over to where she lay on her side facing him. He reached down, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She hummed, but didn’t open her eyes.

“Let’s go to bed, Scully,” whispered Mulder.

He then leaned over and slid his arms under her as she slowly opened her eyes. He lifted her from the couch as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on his ear, sighing with her head on his shoulder as he carried her into the darkened bedroom. Mulder set Scully down on the bed and she lifted the covers, sliding underneath them and moving over to her side. She immediately began shivering, but then he crawled into bed next to her, spooning behind her as he pulled the covers over them. He snuggled closer, his arm wrapping around and holding her, and she sighed contentedly at his warmth.

Almost instantly, she fell back to sleep, and Mulder listened as her breathing became deep and even. Lying in bed next to Scully always made him feel more at home, more at peace. As his hand slid up to grasp hers, he wondered at how he’d ever thought he was in love before her. It was now more accurate to say he’d wanted to be in love and had hoped that he was. This was so different and no one had ever explained it to him. But no romantic novels and films, or abstract conversations about love and relationships, could have prepared him for how much his life would change. He felt his love for Scully deep in his bones. He felt it in his soul. His life would be half a life without her. Everything he did was for her. He wanted everything with her. But love came with a price to pay. They’d already paid dearly, and he knew in this new life they were forced to lead they’d have to keep on paying. Mulder nuzzled against the delicious scent of her skin and finally closed his eyes.

*****

March 17, 2000

He was back in the sandbox, the term for the Middle East used by US intelligence and special operations personnel. During his time with Team 24, he’d participated in quite a few black ops in the sandbox. He didn’t miss the place one bit. It was either way too hot or way too cold, and no matter what you did to prevent it, the sand got everywhere. But the thrill of the hunt and the intense feelings of pleasure the kill always gave him made him feel that being back in the sandbox was worth it. For this was a very particular assignment. The chance to annihilate a Nazi war criminal gave him a unique thrill.

About a year ago, one Conrad Strughold had fled Tunisia, and no one could learn of his whereabouts. Recently, the government received intelligence that Strughold had turned up in Jerusalem months prior, along with a new wife, a young Berber woman he had met back in Tunisia. This was the reason he was now back in the damn sandbox. Surprisingly, he’d been called by the old man, who gave him the assignment directly. It had been almost a year since he’d seen or heard the man, and through the phone line he could hear that familiar sound of a cigarette lighter. He’d then promptly packed up his studio apartment in Hong Kong, everything he owned fitting into one black duffel bag, and made his way to the airport, where he bought a one way ticket to Israel.

While on the plane, he thought Strughold an interesting character. Of course a Nazi would hide in Jerusalem, as if that holy city of the Jewish people would be the last place on earth anyone would ever look for him. It was also bitterly ironic that someone who, along with his comrades, had been so hell-bent on wiping them out would seek their land as his sanctuary. How devastating that would be to the Israeli people if they learned this information. But he seriously doubted the US government was now hunting Strughold for the purpose of justice.

His instructions were to find Strughold and take him out. The details were left up to him. He wasn’t micromanaged, his movements weren’t constantly monitored. There was no command structure telling him exactly what to do and where to be at a specific time. He was given carte blanche to fulfill his missions in the best way he saw fit, and with good reason. As a DIA-super agent, the Department of Defense knew that he would complete his assignments no matter what the cost. Failure was never an option. Complete success was the only acceptable outcome.

The plane turned to make its descent into Ben Gurion airport, which laid 12 miles southeast of Tel Aviv. He momentarily thought of his parents, whom he hadn’t seen since 1998, when he’d made a visit back home to Delaware for the 4th of July holiday. They believed him to be dead, that he’d died on a failed mission with Team 24. He’d been given a military funeral, and was buried at Arlington at the age of 26. This had been true for the rest of his teammates and their families as well. By accepting their new assignments, they had cut off all ties to their previous lives. In his new life, he could not become too attached to anyone or anything. He was alone. He was invisible. He didn’t exist. He also believed he walked the earth with impunity, a belief that strengthened with each successful mission.

He was soon stepping onto the pavement outside Ben Gurion’s Arrivals doors, and the chilly afternoon air greeted him, causing him to shiver. As he pulled his black jacket from his bag, he noticed there was a high airport security presence of both Israeli police and soldiers, but that was typical. He climbed into one of the sheruts lining up on the curb. Once it was full with passengers, the driver pulled away from the curb and started on the drive to Jerusalem, less than 30 miles away. The shared vans were on fixed routes, but there were no scheduled stops. Sherut passengers simply told the driver where they needed to go. A regular taxi would have gotten him to Jerusalem much faster, but he preferred the anonymity of the shared vans as he immersed himself in the local culture, practicing his rusty Hebrew and Arabic.

Over an hour after departing the airport, he stepped out of the sherut and into the heart of Jerusalem. The smells and sounds caused memories to come flooding back to him. There was something very special about this city, a certain magic aura within it, colored with the underlining threat that at any time danger could be lurking around the corner. With his duffel bag over one shoulder, he walked inside the Old City Hotel.

Most people might think the safest place to stay in a war-torn country were the fancy, expensive, Western hotels. But if any local terrorist acts occurred, prominent Jewish or Western buildings would be the targets. A small boutique hotel situated in an old Arab mansion would be ignored, certainly one with strong Palestinian ties. It was a good choice for practical reasons, and it was also not more than 100 meters from Damascus Gate, an area rich with a remarkable number of historical and religious sites, the city rampart, and markets bustling with locals. He felt his chances were good for learning the exact location of an older German man and his young Berber wife.

Once he'd secured a room at the front desk, he made his way through the hotel. The same family had been running the hotel since the 1960’s and a room was less than 100 dollars a night. The arched windows, cool stone flagging, high ceilings, and secluded vine garden were accentuated with authentic Arab architecture. The thick walls were made of Jerusalem stone and traditional Arabic plaster. Once he got to his room, he set his bag down on the end of the bed, and walked back downstairs to hail a taxi.

After spending two days around several marketplaces and conversing with the locals, he discovered the area within the city where most of the Berber-speaking Jews resided and worked. In the two decades following the Arab-Israeli War in 1948, most Berber Jews left their homes in Morocco behind and emigrated to the United States, France, or Israel. He didn’t speak any of the Berber dialects, but he knew they also spoke Mizrahi Hebrew. He wouldn’t have many problems communicating with them.

On Monday, the 20th, he made his way to Kahina market in the early morning and found the Berber shopkeepers setting up their wares for the day. He began to casually converse with them, even purchasing some items, with the goal of becoming a familiar face. He smiled and charmed his way around the market for the next several days. On Wednesday, as he purchased tagine with lamb and mango for his dinner, painstakingly slow-cooked in shallow, earthen pots, he asked the friendly couple serving the food if they had ever seen a young Berber Muslim woman from Tunisia accompanied by a much older European man around the market. The couple exchanged knowing looks of disapproval before looking back at him and nodding quietly.

*****

Early on Friday afternoon, soft light was filtering into the bedroom from behind the closed curtains, and Scully woke up facing him. Her eyelids fluttered open and she looked at Mulder, who at some point had moved to lie on his back. They were close and yet just shy of touching. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, in direct contrast to the cold room around them. She watched him sleep for a few minutes. He really was beautiful.

Scully slid closer to him, and without opening his eyes or showing any other signs that he had woken up, Mulder lifted his arm to come around her, cradling her against him as she pillowed her head on his shoulder. She draped her right leg over his hip as her arm went around him, and then listened to his slow and steady breathing for some minutes. His head lolled to the side, and his face was now towards hers, but he still hadn’t opened his eyes.

Her hand moved gently up his torso, her fingers running through the thatch of hair on his chest. She stared up at his bottom lip, and licked her own. A powerful feeling welled up inside her, a fierce wanting mixed with the bundle of nerves that had grown tighter in the pit of her stomach since that news report broke on Monday morning. Over the past month, after enduring a year-long separation, Scully had felt like she was falling in love with Mulder all over again, hard and fast. As she looked up into his face, she felt her love for him intensely, and that only made her fear more pronounced. There was an overwhelming feeling that something bad was going to happen, that something was wrong, and she knew her bad feelings usually turned out to be right.

As if he sensed it, Mulder opened his eyes and stared into hers. His gaze was full of affection. “Hey,” he whispered, his mouth curving into a smile.

She swallowed, her gaze unchanged. “Hey.”

It didn’t take him long to read her, his eyes searching her face as his gaze became intense. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”

“I’m scared, Mulder,” she murmured.

“Of what?”

Scully brought her hand up to his face, cupping his cheek, stroking it with her thumb. What had once been rough stubble was turning a little softer as the hair on his face grew out. She slowly ran her fingers across his jaw, down to his chin. “If only you knew,” she whispered.

That sense of uneasiness returned, and he searched her face, looking for the regret he knew she must be feeling. “What don’t I know? Tell me, Scully.”

“What it was like without you,” she replied, keeping her eyes on his chin and away from his penetrating gaze. “Your abduction. Finding you dead in those woods. Your funeral. Having you back, and then losing you again. This last year I spent without you. And after what happened... with William… there were so many times when I thought my world would have come to an end if you never came back.” Tears pricked her eyes. “I know what life without you is like, and I don’t ever want to go through that again.”

Mulder’s hand grasped hers, lifting it from his chin and bringing it to his mouth. He kissed her palm, and she sighed. He brought her hand down and then traced the outline of her jaw with his fingers, moving to the tip of her chin and gently tilting upwards until her eyes met his. “I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you don’t have to go through that again.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But… something’s not right. I wanna get out of here. As soon as possible."

“Okay. I’ll call the owner and see if he can plow out the driveway today. If he can get over here, we’ll pack up and leave tonight as soon as it gets dark.”

Mulder shifted to lie on his side, and leaned towards Scully, kissing her cheek. He then pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re my whole world,” he whispered.

She gave him a little smile. “And you are mine.”

Their hands tenderly held each other’s faces, the words _I love you_ silently drifting between them, and they remained nose to nose, willing fugitives from dangers unknown and unknowable.

*****

March 27, 2000

He sat in Spender’s office inside the Pentagon, across from the old man, who was currently lighting a cigarette from where he was sitting behind his desk. He was of the opinion that the man looked awful, gaunt and gray-faced. He wondered if that smoking habit was finally catching up to the old bastard. He watched Spender open a blue file folder, and look down at its contents.

“So this is Strughold?”

“Yes, sir.”

Spender took a drag from his cigarette. “Of course it’s impossible to tell.”

He nodded. “I ensured that no one would be able to identify him, sir.”

Closing his eyes a brief moment, Spender then opened them again and sighed. “Was what you did to the woman really necessary?”

Shrugging, he fought hard to stop himself from smirking. “Oh, you know. I was just having fun, sir. Strughold had fun, too. He got to watch.”

Spender stared back at him hard, his mouth forming a tight line of disapproval. “The rate of suffering your victims experience seems to increase with each assignment.”

He stared back, remaining silent. He didn’t feel the need to justify his actions.

“This was quite the brutal scene for the Israeli police to come across,” said Spender. “Not exactly inconspicuous. It was all over the news.”

“And has it been tied in any way to the US, sir? It won’t. We both know it. Besides, I did the Israelis a favor.”

Spender looked down at the crime scene photos, grimacing as he flipped to the ones of the Berber woman. “Is that so?”

He nodded confidently, entwining his fingers in his lap. “Israel is their holy land. Jews who left behind European or African countries, abandoning places where they had managed to live for many generations despite severe hardships, sought refuge there. Many of them believe that the ‘Land of Israel is the umbilical cord of the world.’ They believed that upon setting foot in Israel they might die if they were not deemed pure enough to enter the place where they believed God himself resided, a land of spiritual paradise where only the pure were allowed to enter. Imagine their devastation upon learning that Conrad Strughold had been living in their holy land for several months.”

“So you meted out justice, is that it?” Spender asked.

“I merely followed orders, sir.”

Sighing, Spender closed the blue file folder with a look of disgust, before pausing briefly as he puffed from his cigarette. “If you don’t learn to check these barbaric tendencies of yours, they’re going to catch up to you, make you sloppy.”

He nodded, feeling contempt rise up for the old man, and he replied coldly. “Understood, sir. Do I have another assignment at this time?”

“No. You’re to remain in the US.”

“Where would you like me to go, sir?”

Spender stared at him. “Anywhere. When you’re needed, we’ll contact you. Pick a place, stay there for a while, and then move somewhere else. You know the routine. And try to stay out of fucking trouble.”

He rose up from the chair in front of the desk. “Yes, sir.”

Grabbing his duffel bag, he walked out of the office, before making his way out of the Pentagon. He wasn’t exactly sure where he wanted to go. New York City sounded good, but it was too fucking cold right now. He then thought of Las Vegas and felt excitement begin to build in the pit of his stomach. He could have lots of fun there. Grinning, he began driving towards Washington Dulles International Airport.

March 21, 2002

It was almost midnight. He slowly moved closer to the cabin, staying within the tree line. He was leaving footprints, but with the current rate of snowfall they’d be gone by morning. When he was clear of the cabin’s large front window, he approached from the side, moving towards the garage underneath the porch. He looked through one of the windows at the top of the garage door. Inside was a black SUV, the same one that had been on the hospital’s parking lot security tapes. After checking on every motel and hotel in the Colorado Springs area, he started checking the vacation rentals. Three days of searching had finally led him to his targets.

He’d have to think out his plan carefully. If he burst in on the two of them together, his chances for success would be minimal. They were probably on the alert by now. He knew they were experienced, capable, and most likely armed. He also had no intentions of making it quick. He wanted some amusement, and the thought of these particular targets gave him a unique thrill. He could run in there, guns blazing, and his mission could be complete in a matter of seconds. But where would the fun be in that? He thought of Dana Scully, and his mouth curved into a smirk, butterflies filling his stomach and adrenaline pumping through his veins.

He would have to find a way to separate her from Mulder, at least momentarily. It would take a little time, but he didn’t mind. As many women whom he’d come across had learned, to their initial pleasure and then eventual distress, a gentleman was simply a wolf who could wait patiently.

*****

Just before 4:00 on Friday afternoon, the owner arrived at the cabin with his Chevy truck to plow out the driveway. When he completed the task, Mulder paid him the rest of the money he owed for their stay in the cabin, telling him that they would be leaving first thing in the morning, and then Mr. Billings was gone. Mulder walked back inside the cabin, where Scully was carrying a packed suitcase from the bedroom.

“We didn’t get nearly as much snow last night as the weather forecast had said,” Mulder told her as he shut the front door. “Mr. Billings said the roads have all been plowed pretty well and they were clear for travel.”

“Good,” she replied, setting the bag down against the wall by the staircase that led downstairs.

The sun was due to set at 6:13 pm, and the plan was to set out as soon as it started getting dark. They only had to wait a couple hours. Scully went about checking all the rooms, making sure nothing had been overlooked and nothing had been left behind. Mulder stood in the kitchen entryway, drinking a cup of coffee, watching her nervously pace from room to room.

He sipped from the mug, the coffee only a bit too hot. “Why are you so jittery?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Scully said, before sighing. “I guess I’ll just feel a lot better once we’ve put this place behind us.”

“Too bad my appendix had to go and ruin everything,” he quipped.

She gave him a half smile, and turned to walk back into the bathroom, passing their luggage by the staircase that led down to the basement and garage on the ground level. She honestly couldn’t explain why she felt so nervous. But there had been an ominous air over the last several days, and she’d felt a sense of foreboding come over her. That feeling hadn’t gone away, and was only growing stronger the more they lingered. Scully glanced at the watch on her wrist, anxiously awaiting the sunset.

At 5:50 pm, Mulder watched Scully move to stand in front of the living room window. Her eyes scanned the property in front of the cabin, the driveway that led out to Fountain Creek Road and the woods on either side of it, while she rolled her gold cross between her fingers. He saw the look of worry on her face and moved over to the coat rack, lifting his shoulder holster and black winter coat from one of the hooks.

“I’m going to make a sweep of the property a couple times before we leave,” he said, fastening the holster under his arm, and checking to make sure the 9mm was secure.

Scully turned her head and gave him a questioning look.

He shrugged as he pulled on his coat. “Nothing’s been on the news since Tuesday. We don’t know if local law enforcement is making any progress. I just wanna be sure that we’ve got the all clear, that we won’t be followed or anything.”

She smiled, giving him an encouraging nod, and then Mulder walked over to the staircase, descending to the ground level. At the bottom of the flight of stairs was the finished basement to the right, complete with large flat screen television, brown leather furniture, and wet bar. He and Scully had spent little to no time in the finished basement, as it had been too cold, preferring the warmth of the living room with the fireplace upstairs. To the left of the stairs was the door that opened to the garage. He walked towards it, passing the hot water heater as well as the fuse box.

Mulder unlocked the door and stepped inside, flipping on the light switch. Everything appeared to be all right. He pushed the button next to the light switch and the garage door opened. Zipping up his coat, he stepped out to the cold winter afternoon. It was getting close to sunset, and the sky was turning that familiar shade of gray-blue as the temperature steadily dropped.

He walked along the edge of the plowed driveway, heading towards the road. At the end of it, he glanced up and down Fountain Creek. A moment later a silver minivan filled with children drove by, its female driver taking no real notice of him. Other than that vehicle, there wasn’t much traffic. But the road looked like it had been regularly plowed and salted throughout the day. They should have no problems with driving out of there.

Mulder then walked back up the driveway towards the cabin. Upon reaching the log house, he glanced up at Scully standing in the window and then walked around the right side. He trudged through the snow to the tree line, entering the woods, cutting a zigzag path through the trees at the property line. Snow collected lightly on his shoulders as he pushed his way past tree branches while his black boots carved a steady track through the snow, more than ankle deep, leaving a path behind him and keeping the cabin within his line of sight to the left.

He soon came upon the other side of the cabin, having fully circled the property. Once again, Mulder looked up at the window and saw Scully, giving her a thumbs up sign. He then decided to circle one more time, and went about the same path, heading down the driveway to Fountain Creek Road. When he reached the rear of the cabin as he walked just within the tree line, he happened to glance to his right and saw another set of tracks.

Mulder came to an abrupt stop and stared at the tracks. It was clear no animal had made them. The footprints were less than 10 feet to the right of the ones he had made, and they were leading away from the tree line and deeper into the woods. He had no idea where they had come from, as there was no sign that anyone had been near the cabin or the driveway. His heart pounded and his breathing quickened as his head turned in all directions, scanning his surroundings. He then stepped through the trees, approaching the other tracks with caution. They appeared to be haphazard, as if the person who made them had been staggering, unsteady on his or her feet.

His eyes then zeroed in on red spots along the footprints. There were tracks of blood in the snow, little frozen flecks every few paces. It was obvious to him that someone was seriously hurt. He started to follow the path the footprints had made deeper into the woods, and every few yards there would be a large dent in the snow, evidently the person having fallen and then gotten back up to continue walking. More splotches of blood in the snow were found at these dents.

He walked further from the cabin and was soon surrounded by dense forest when suddenly these strange tracks came to an abrupt end. Mulder stared at the man-sized dent in the snow, but there was no body, and no tracks leading away from it. He looked up at the trees around it, wondering if someone who was clearly hurt and barely able to walk in a straight line could manage climbing. But why would they want to? And how could the person who had made the tracks simply disappear?

Inside the cabin, Scully stood at the front window, waiting for Mulder to circle again, hoping that the second time was the last and that he’d soon be climbing the steps up to the porch. Upon hearing the door that led out to the garage open and shut downstairs, she breathed a sigh of relief and stepped away from the window, turning to head towards the bedroom. Inside the room, Scully sat on the bed and slipped her feet into her black leather ankle boots. As she stood and reached for her jacket that lay on the end, the electricity in the cabin suddenly went out.

“Mulder?” she called out apprehensively, her hands starting to tremble.

There was no reply. She called out again, this time a little louder. Still no answer came.

Scully froze. They had two other weapons, and both handguns were packed away in the duffel bag that was now propped up against the wall by the staircase entryway. But all she could think of was those Super Soldiers, unstoppable and invincible. A 9mm pistol would have no effect whatsoever. She could run for the front door, but how many were there? Would she just be running towards them instead of away? And where was Mulder? What if something had happened to him?

Her fight-or-flight response kicked in, adrenaline rushing through her system as her breathing quickened. Scully’s heart raced as she moved to the open doorway of the bedroom as the terror of walking down the dark hallway towards the duffel bag engulfed her. She then heard slow, methodical footsteps at the bottom of the stairs. Someone, or something, was starting to ascend.

She took a long, deep breath and then slowly exhaled. She then stepped out of the bedroom and into the hallway, but instead of turning towards the luggage, and the staircase, she turned right and darted into the living room. Scully now wished they’d started a fire earlier, having decided against it since they’d be leaving soon. Just as she reached the front door, a voice called out in the dark, cold and menacing.

“Dana.”

Scully stood frozen in place, literally paralyzed by fear.

Looking at his surroundings, with a sinking stomach Mulder realized that it was starting to grow darker and he no longer had the cabin in his view. He glanced down at the tracks, where someone had hobbled, dragging their feet through the snow, and then apparently fallen over and disappeared into thin air. Something wasn’t right. He started to turn back the way he came, when he saw them. Further to the left, about 20 feet away from the large dent in the snow, was yet another set of tracks. These weren’t haphazard; the person hadn’t been stumbling, barely able to make it along. These tracks were in a steady, almost too-perfect line through the snow, perpendicular from where he stood. And with a quickly growing sense of dreadful realization, he knew they made a beeline straight for the cabin. Mulder sped towards it, heedless of the snow beneath his feet, fear pounding in his heart.


	129. "But our fear of the everyday, of the lurking stranger, and the sound of foot-falls on the stairs, the fear of violent death and the primitive impulse to survive, are as frightening as any X-File."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully fights her attacker. She and Mulder head for Kansas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Florence + The Machine - "Heavy In Your Arms"
> 
> I was a heavy heart to carry  
> My beloved was weighed down  
> My arms around his neck  
> My fingers laced to crown  
> I was a heavy heart to carry  
> My feet dragged across the ground  
> And he took me to the river  
> Where he slowly let me drown
> 
> My love has concrete feet  
> My love's an iron ball  
> Wrapped around your ankles  
> Over the waterfall
> 
> I'm so heavy, heavy  
> Heavy in your arms  
> I'm so heavy, heavy  
> Heavy in your arms
> 
> And is it worth the wait  
> All this killing time  
> Are you strong enough to stand  
> Protecting both your heart and mine  
> Who is the betrayer  
> Who's the killer in the crowd  
> The one who creeps in corridors  
> And doesn't make a sound
> 
> My love has concrete feet  
> My love's an iron ball  
> Wrapped around your ankles  
> Over the waterfall  
> My love has concrete feet  
> My love's an iron ball  
> Wrapped around your ankles  
> Over the waterfall
> 
> I'm so heavy, heavy  
> Heavy in your arms  
> I'm so heavy, heavy  
> So heavy in your arms
> 
> This will be my last confession  
> "I love you" never felt like any blessing  
> Whispering like it's a secret  
> Only to condemn the one who hears it  
> With a heavy heart
> 
> Heavy, heavy I'm so heavy in your arms  
> (I'm so) Heavy, heavy I'm so heavy in your arms  
> (I'm so) Heavy, heavy I'm so heavy in your arms  
> (I'm so) Heavy, heavy I'm so heavy in your arms
> 
> I was a heavy heart to carry  
> My beloved was weighed down  
> My arms around his neck  
> My fingers laced to crown  
> I was a heavy heart to carry  
> But he never let me down  
> When he held me in his arms  
> My feet never touched the ground
> 
> I'm so heavy, heavy in your arms  
> Heavy, I'm so heavy in your arms

Just as she reached the front door, a voice called out in the dark, cold and menacing.

“Dana.”

Scully stood frozen in place, literally paralyzed by fear. Her hands were cold, her muscles were tense, and her breathing was rapid and shallow. Her legs shook as she turned around from the front door, her hand still on the knob, putting her back to it. With one movement of her wrist, she knew the door was locked. Ahead of her, standing in the entryway to the living room, was a man she didn’t recognize. She noted his blond hair, average height, average build, and his predatory expression that seemed to have a tinge of humor underneath, as if he was very amused at the situation.

“Your partner will be arriving shortly, I’m sure, so we really need to get started before he joins us,” he said.

His voice was both menacing and teasing, and it sent chills up Scully’s spine. Her mind raced, as her entire body felt flooded with panic. By the time she turned, unlocked the door, and stepped out to the porch, he’d have his hands on her. Maybe if she could somehow make it to the hallway behind where he now stood, to the staircase that led downstairs, but still he’d catch her. She was defenseless against these Super Soldiers that were so determined to eliminate her and Mulder. She was no match for them. There was nothing she could do.

He stepped further into the living room, closing the space between them. “Let me explain to you how this is going to play out, Dana. We need to get this first part over with while we’re alone, just the two of us.”

Scully’s gaze then dropped to the blade in his hand, reflecting off the light filtering in from the living room window. She couldn’t recall Knowle Rohrer needing to carry weapons, and remembered Skinner’s story of Billy Miles’ bare hand slicing through an elevator door.

“And then when Mulder arrives, he can join the fun because he’s not going to want to miss this,” he said, before he began to smile knowingly, his soulless dark eyes glinting with amusement. “You see, I only like to kill one person at a time. And I should tell you… I like to play with my food before I eat it.”

Her eyes widened. Somewhere within her panicked mind, the Dana Scully she once was stirred, his threatening words evoking her intellect, her FBI training, her understanding of the physics of the world, the universe, and her firsthand experiences of the evil that pervaded every day society. She saw instantly that this was no Super Soldier. He wasn’t invincible, unstoppable. She could tell he was a monster, but there was nothing that seemed supernatural about him. He was a man, plain and simple. Imperfect. Mortal. And was it truly possible that Mulder was all right? That nothing had happened to him? Yet. She was going to find a way to get out of this situation alive, for both their sakes. She had to.

She continued to stare at him with eyes wide, which he took for a deer caught in the headlights. He grinned and moved quickly towards her. The space between them closed in and as he suddenly loomed over her, Scully kicked him in the groin. When he doubled over, she violently kneed him in the face, and he toppled over. But as she made to run, hoping to reach the duffel bag and her weapon, he grabbed her ankle and she fell hard to the floor. He pulled her toward him, her face scraping against the hardwood, and then he put his weight on her.

She tried to push herself free, to kick him off of her as he fought just as hard to subdue her using his full body weight. Their struggling sent them sliding across the hardwood floor until they were in front of the kitchen doorway. Scully turned her head to look across the room towards the entryway to the hall, where she knew her luggage was. The only thought running through her mind was getting to her gun as quickly as possible.

She kneed him in the groin, and then scratched his eyes, before pushing herself out from underneath him. With a growl he grabbed her hard, pulling her back against him. He pulled his right arm back, and then brought his hand down to strike her. She saw the gleam of the steel blade and quickly reached for his hand. Her right fist slammed into his head as she wrestled the knife from him with her other hand. With a firm grip on the knife, Scully lunged into the air and slashed his neck with the blade, right across the jugular.

He gasped as searing pain burned from his neck and down into his chest. His blood was rushing out from the cut, and Scully frantically shoved him from her. He fell with a thud to the floor beside her, sprawled on his back like a wounded animal, with his hands at his neck, trying in vain to stop the blood flow. She slid her exhausted body across the floor, creating distance between herself and her attacker, who lay there choking as he bled to death.

*****

Mulder sped through the trees, willing himself not to be overcome by agonizing fear. He needed to get to the cabin and he needed to get to Scully. Over and over again he repeated the words inside his head as he ran. The trees suddenly gave way to a large clearing. If he followed the tracks and ran straight through, he would be an easy target for whomever or whatever might be out there. He fled around the edge, still concealed by the trees, until meeting up with the tracks on the other side of the clearing, and took off running through the woods again.

Cold and wet from running through the deep snow, Mulder finally reached the tree line of the rental property. He gazed up at the cabin. All the lights were out. His stomach bottomed out, and he hurriedly unzipped his coat, reaching for his pistol. He walked quickly inside the garage, having left the door open earlier. How fucking stupid. The SUV was in the same spot, and nothing appeared to be different.

He opened the door leading into the house, also finding it still unlocked. He quietly shut the door and moved into the cabin. All was quiet. His eyes fell on the fuse box on the wall and he opened it. The power had been turned off. He wasn’t sure whether he should turn the electricity on, not before knowing if Scully was all right. Turning the lights back on would announce his presence, and he didn’t know whether that would do her harm or good.

Quietly, he moved past the box to the bottom of the stairs. Mulder glanced into the finished basement on his left, and saw nothing out of the ordinary. He then started to slowly climb the stairs. Fear had seized hold of him. His palms were sweating. His knees felt soft, as if they might give way. But he had to get to Scully. He fervently prayed that she was unharmed. He wanted to speak. He wanted to break the deafening silence inside the cabin. He wanted to call out her name and hear her reply, yet he couldn’t seem to find his voice.

He didn’t know what to expect. Scully could be hurt, badly hurt, or worse. She could be dead. If someone had laid a finger on her, God he would make them pay. He felt nothing but terror at what he might find. Every sense was heightened when he reached the top of the stairs. Mulder looked down at their luggage against the wall, not having moved since he’d left the cabin earlier. His gaze then went to the open entryway to the living room. The palm that held his gun was sweaty. He thought he could hear his heartbeat, and feel his blood moving through his veins.

Mulder stepped into the entryway, gun drawn and pointed in front of him. A quick sweep to his left into the living room brought Scully into his line of sight. He dropped his gun hand to his side as he tried to tell himself to breathe. She was on the floor, eyes closed, slouched against the wall next to the kitchen doorway, covered in blood. Oh, God. His eyes then caught another body sprawled on the floor to the right of her, and the puddle of red blood spreading out from underneath it.

Most of Mulder’s brain shut down as he rushed to where Scully sat on the floor, moving on legs he felt were barely holding him up. No, no, no. It couldn’t be. He dropped to his knees in front of her, and she opened her eyes.

“Mulder,” she whispered, her voice quivering. She was shaking badly, and looked as terrified as he felt.

He let out a ragged breath, and dropped the gun to the floor. His hands went to her shoulders. There was blood everywhere. Her ivory sweater was soaked. Hot tears pricked his eyes. He felt his heart in his throat. His hands started to shake.

“Scully, you need help, you need help.”

She shook her head, and swallowed. She felt nauseous. “It’s not my blood, Mulder,” she said, her voice shaky. “He… he came from downstairs.” Her voice then lowered to just above a whisper. “He had a knife.”

He breathed a deep sigh of relief and gazed at her eyes, shiny with unshed tears. He gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?”

“No,” she replied, her voice becoming thick with emotion.

Mulder looked down at her trembling fingers, and then glanced at the serrated blade on the floor a foot away from her, stained red. “Everything’s gonna be okay. Are there any others? Or just him?” He nodded towards the body on the floor.

She glanced at the body out of the corner of her eye, and shook her head. “Just him. Unless there are more outside.”

“I didn’t see any evidence of that, Scully. Only one set of tracks.”

Placing the gun in her hand, Mulder stood up and stepped into the kitchen. He pulled a clean dish cloth from one of the drawers and soaked it with warm water from the sink. A moment later, Scully could feel him wiping away the blood from her neck with the warm cloth. She closed her eyes and reached for his free hand, squeezing it. He squeezed back gently.

“Is that a little better?” he asked.

She nodded, but she still felt disgusting and desperately wanted to feel clean. “They found us, Mulder. They found us. He’s not one of those Super Soldiers. But… who is he?”

Sighing, he only gave a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t know. I’m gonna try and find out.”

Mulder then walked out of the living room, heading downstairs to the fuse box, where he turned the electricity back on. He then quickly returned upstairs. Scully looked even worse. Her torso was covered in blood, and she was excessively pale. He moved to her side and leaned down, grasping her arms and helping her stand up.

“What are we gonna do?” she asked, her voice still shaky, feeling as if in a daze.

“We’ll figure something out,” he replied. He then paused, eyeing her carefully. There were also harsh red marks on her cheeks, visible scrapes. “Scully, are you all right? Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”

She averted her eyes from his, and spoke quietly. “Mulder, I'm fine.” She swallowed, fighting back the pervasive nausea. “I’m going to get cleaned up. Then we really need to get out of here.”

He looked at her and nodded silently as she walked away. He didn’t think she was fine, no matter what she said. As she grabbed a set of clean clothes from one of the suitcases, Mulder turned and looked down at the body of the dead man on the living room floor. He went about checking the man’s pockets but found nothing except a set of keys that had a black leather keychain with the Jeep logo embedded into it. There was no wallet, no identification. He assumed the man was an assassin. The keys must go to a vehicle he had nearby.

As Mulder walked over to their luggage, he heard the unmistakable sound of Scully getting sick in the bathroom, and sighed. His mind filled with worry, but he needed to concentrate. They first had to focus on getting away safely, and then they could deal with what happened. He began bringing bags downstairs, loading them into the SUV. When he returned to the top of the stairs and grabbed the duffel bag, Scully emerged. She had changed into a pair of dark blue jeans and purple cashmere sweater, and was carrying her black jacket, but she’d apparently left the bloodstained clothes behind in the bathroom. Her blonde hair was wet. She still had a dazed look, and wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Scully, I think you might be in shock.”

“I’m fine, Mulder.”

He sighed. “I don’t think you are.”

She crossed her arms, looking away. “Mulder, I’m not hurt. I’m okay.”

“What do you think we should do about the body, Scully?” he asked, still not convinced she was as all right as she wanted him to believe. “We can’t just leave it here for the owner to find. The police will be called. Our descriptions given.”

She took a deep breath. She didn’t want to think about the body, about that man.

Mulder ran his fingers over his mouth, thinking. “We can’t really bury it in the snow. And the ground’s too frozen to truly bury it. We need to act quickly. I think we first need to find the Jeep his keys belong to, and then transfer our stuff into it.”

They descended the staircase, walking into the garage. Mulder got behind the steering wheel after placing the black duffel bag in the back seat. As Scully buckled her seat belt, he turned the ignition and put the car into reverse. At the end of the driveway, they sat for a moment while he tried to figure out where the Jeep might be. The mysterious tracks he’d come across initially at the rear of the cabin had come from within the woods, and had been nowhere near the cabin or the driveway. The assassin must have walked from the road. Mulder then turned left from the driveway, onto Fountain Creek Road, and drove away.

A quarter mile down from the cabin, parked on the left side of the road, was a blue Jeep Wrangler. Mulder passed it, and then turned around in the road, driving back up and parking behind it. He and Scully exited their SUV, stepping out into the cold night air. He approached the vehicle and the keyless remote unlocked it, its headlights turning on.

“Scully, are you okay to drive?” he asked, turning back to look at her.

“Mulder, quit it. I’m fine. Yes, I can drive.”

He sighed. He then placed the SUV keys in her hand. “Follow me back to the cabin.” He then turned and got into the Jeep, starting the engine. When Scully was behind the wheel in the vehicle behind him, he drove onto the road.

Once they were back inside the cabin’s driveway, they transferred their luggage from the SUV to their newly acquired Jeep. While Mulder siphoned the gas from the SUV into a red canister, Scully went about changing the Jeep’s license plates. After several gallons of gas had been taken from the tank, he parked the SUV inside the garage and closed the outside door. He then spread the gasoline all over inside the cabin, concentrating on the living room where the assassin’s dead body lay. Striking a match, Mulder set the living room ablaze. He then walked out the front door, closing it behind him, and descended the stairs to the driveway.

Mulder got behind the steering wheel of the Jeep, as Scully glanced behind her seat and saw flames through the living room window over the porch.

“You set the house on fire?” she asked, eyes wide. “How is that going to cover our tracks? They’ll still find a man’s body in there.”

“Yeah, but they won’t find a woman’s,” he replied, putting the Jeep into drive, and pulling away from the cabin.

She stared at him, waiting for him to explain.

At the end of the driveway, he turned left onto Fountain Creek Road, heading towards Colorado Springs. Glancing at her, Mulder licked his lips. “Scully, the cabin owners know they rented it to a man and woman. The police will find that a man died in that fire. My guess is that they won’t be able to identify him. There are tracks all over the woods around the cabin. They’ll look for the woman, but they won’t find her. They’ll assume the woman is missing.”

“But whoever sent him… the military, the FBI… they’ll know,” she replied. “Our prints are all over the cabin, and can be easily identified. Well, if the fire doesn’t burn the whole thing to the ground.”

“Maybe, but we’ll be long gone by the time it all gets figured out,” he said.

Scully turned away and looked out the window, sighing. As they drove through Colorado Springs, heading for I-70 East that would take them into Kansas, Mulder kept throwing anxious glances at her, but she refused to meet his concerned gaze. Eventually she allowed her exhaustion to pull her under, and she closed her eyes.

About five and a half hours after leaving Colorado Springs behind, they arrived in the city of Hays, Kansas. It was the middle of the night. Mulder stopped at a gas station and after filling the tank, he purchased a state map inside the convenience mart. When he got back inside the Jeep, he saw that Scully was still sleeping with her body turned away from him. He sighed and opened the map, and began to study it.

Mulder also kept wondering at how they had been found so quickly. He supposed it was only a matter of time after the information about what happened at Penrose Hospital got out there. All anyone had to do was check the hotels and motels in the area, the vacation rentals, to find any out-of-towners who were in the area. By a simple process of elimination, they’d been tracked down. It hadn’t been a good idea to stay in one place for so long, although if he hadn’t had a medical emergency, none of this likely would’ve happened.

He continued to look over the map. Hays was just over 300 miles from Colorado Springs. If the military sent others after them, they’d check places within a certain radius from their last known location. He and Scully didn’t technically need to be in Hays until April 12th, over two weeks away. They probably shouldn’t stay in this town for that long. He supposed they could stay somewhere else for a little while and then come back to Hays for the Kansas Academy of Science meeting.

Mulder’s eyes then zeroed in on another town on the map, about 200 miles away. It would take just about three hours to get there, roughly. He gave a quick glance over at a sleeping Scully and a small grin spread on his face. He got out of the Jeep again and went around to the back. After finding the right suitcase, he unzipped the bag and pulled out his wooden chest. Inside, along with the other sentimental items he’d kept, were some pictures. He looked over the one of him and Scully, and smiled.

He then reached for the bottom of the chest, and found a white envelope that had been addressed to his apartment in Alexandria. The return address was in a town called Kroner. He shoved the envelope in his pocket, returned the chest to his suitcase, and then got back in the driver’s seat. Pulling out of the gas station, Mulder got back onto I-70 and drove for another 90 miles, before taking the exit for highway 81, heading north.

*****

At 4:36 am, Mulder pulled into the Cool View Motor Court in Kroner, the same place they’d stayed nearly four years earlier. Scully stirred in the front seat, before sitting up straighter and stretching as she yawned. He gave her a once over and slid out of the driver’s seat, heading for the office door. He rang the doorbell three times. Eventually it opened to reveal the motel manager, a plump middle-aged woman wearing a housecoat over her nightgown, her graying dark brown hair rolled up in fat pink curlers all over her head, staring at him with a mean gaze.

“Do you realize what time it is?” she barked in a thick Midwestern accent.

“Uh, yes, ma’am, I do,” Mulder politely replied. “But we just arrived in town and we’re way too tired to drive any further. Would it be possible to rent a room? Do you have any available?”

She sighed. “Oh, I suppose so. Come on in.”

He followed her through the door and as he made to stand in front of her desk, where she was reaching for her registration book, Scully stepped inside the office. The woman gave her a wide-eyed stare. He turned to look at Scully, and she gave him a half smile, but then quickly averted her eyes from his. Mulder then signed their names into the registry, giving fake ones, and he was given a key to room 26.

After they each carried in a suitcase, Scully removed her jacket and sat on the queen-sized bed as Mulder went back out to the Jeep. He retrieved his black duffel bag as well as the strange one that had been originally inside the Jeep, the one that had apparently belonged to their would-be assassin. He carried both bags inside the motel room. After setting them down on the floor, he took a seat in the cushioned armchair in the corner and stared at Scully.

She nervously played with her fingers, and refused to look at him. They each seemed to be unwilling to break the silence. He wanted desperately to talk to her, wanted her to open up about what happened in the cabin, but he was afraid that if he pushed her she would clam up. He’d almost lost her again and didn’t know how to handle it, yet again. It could’ve been Scully bleeding to death in that cabin. And it would’ve been his fault. He’d let it happen. Because he hadn’t been vigilant enough.

He wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to leave him now. A small, secret part of him wished that she would, for her own protection, for her own sake, to spare herself the danger, the pain and heartache that this life was inflicting on them. Mulder’s head told him that Scully leaving would be for the best, but his heart chided him, and fervently hoped that she’d stay with him always, no matter what happened to them. He loved her, she loved him, and their love came with a heavy price. They'd already lost so much, paid the highest price imaginable, and he feared they'd lose even more. All they had left to lose was each other, and he knew that was a price neither of them were prepared to pay.

A wave of anger then swept through him as he got a good look at her underneath the brightness of the motel room’s lights, revealing the scrapes and bruises her fight with the attacker had left her with. He found that his anger was mostly directed at himself, and not the other man. She’d told him he was fine, that she wasn’t hurt, and he went along with it. But she looked so pale and hurt sitting there on the edge of the bed. There were scrapes across her cheek, a bruise had formed on her forehead and one on her jaw, not to mention others that he’d yet to find out about that were hidden under her clothing.

“We should probably get some sleep,” she said quietly, finally breaking the silence.

He nodded, but he didn’t move from the chair. On the surface, he thought Scully sounded all right, as if there was nothing at all wrong with her, or with him, or the world around them, but he caught the wince she made as she stood up from the bed.

“Scully, let me take a look at you,” he said, standing from the chair.

“Mulder, you don’t have to worry. I already told you that I’m fine.”

He clenched his jaw, trying hard to check his tone, but failed at keeping the anger and frustration out of it. “Just keep telling yourself that, and maybe you’ll eventually believe it.”

She sighed, reading his tone and the state of mind he must be in, and spoke rather coldly herself, all while refusing to make eye contact with him. “Yeah, well, that’s the plan.”

“Scully, please…,” he whispered.

Looking up, her gaze finally met his. There was nothing she could do or say, no argument that would stand against his pleading, anxious tone, no words or actions that could outweigh the tears she saw in his eyes. She couldn’t hold it together any longer, the protective wall she’d put up around herself, around her mind from the moment the electricity went out in the cabin.

Scully’s eyes welled up, and her face crumpled, her hard won control shattering. Mulder moved quickly to her, throwing his arms around her. She then wrapped her arms around him, holding him to her tightly, and allowed herself to fully let her emotions out. She sobbed in his arms, while he held her tight and strong. His hand was at the back of her head, his thumb moving in soothing circles through her wavy blonde hair, as he whispered “everything’s gonna be okay” over and over. He wasn't sure whether he was trying to reassure her or himself, but he could only hope what he said was true.

A little while later, she sat on the bed undressing and Mulder got a good look at her. She had quite a few bruises along her side and on her arms from her struggle with the assassin. His softly swept his hands over her bruised and aching body, and whispered apologies. She only shook her head, and whispered assurances. Scully knew that Mulder would resort back to his over-protective manner for a while now, until this most recent terror faded away into the background with all the other horrors they’d endured in the past. She couldn’t help but wonder when the next one would arise.

Just as the moon began to set, the sky turning a dull gray before the rise of the sun, Mulder and Scully finally laid down in bed. He had pulled the photos from his wooden chest and was showing them to her. She looked at the picture of them sitting underneath the rainbow decoration at the Kroner High School Reunion and smiled. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She looked over at the photo in Mulder’s hand, the one of Holman Hardt and Sheila with their new baby. He gazed at it, his expression unreadable.

Sadness welled up inside her, crushing and painful, and she fought hard to push it away. “How old do you think their son is now?” she asked, wanting to make light conversation.

He flipped the picture over and read the date: September 1999. “Um… probably around two and a half or so.”

Scully nodded, and her stomach was turning into knots as he continued to gaze at the picture of the happy family. She looked at Mulder, wondering if he’d speak about William, about the adoption. He didn’t. Soon he turned out the light, and she drifted to sleep wondering about her son, about where he was, the family he was with, hoping he was happy, hoping he was healthy. Not long after succumbing to sleep, she was on that beach with her son, and with Mulder. They were healthy, they were happy.


	130. "Whatever the consequences to that end, they are incalculable to the preservation of the larger plan."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Van de Kamps hire some help with the farm. Mrs. Van de Kamp notices something strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping At Last - "Households"

September 30, 2001

They stood on the porch that early Sunday afternoon, about an hour after getting home from church, and watched the three men drive away from the farmhouse in their red Ford pickup truck. With a glance at his wife, he stepped back inside the house. She shook her head as the truck disappeared from view, and then turned to follow her husband back inside.

“I don’t like those Meacham boys, Jonathan,” she said, closing the front door behind her. “They spell trouble.”

He sighed. Meacham was a notorious name in Wyoming. Seemingly almost every heinous crime committed in the state over the last century had involved someone on their family tree. That name came with a stigma that was impossible to live down. The fact that the Meachams just kept getting into trouble didn’t help improve the family’s reputation. Most people had no idea why the remaining Meachams, those who were not in prison or on the state’s sex offender registry, wouldn’t just leave Wyoming and start a new life elsewhere to get away from the disgrace. But everyone believed that the Meachams were poisonous, the lot of them, and filled with misplaced family pride. Nothing would ever compel them to uproot and leave Wyoming behind, no matter how much they were generally despised by their neighbors.

“Now, Martha, we can’t go holding past misdeeds against those boys,” he replied. “They’re not responsible for what their relatives have done. Brandon, Justin, and Marvin have kept their noses clean.”

“So far as anyone knows,” she said skeptically. “But one bad apple spoils the whole bunch, and that family is full of bad apples. Do you honestly want any of those Meachams to be around here all the time?”

He crossed his arms on his chest and looked over at the baby boy, his new son, crawling around his playpen, and their dog Scout lying on the floor beside it. “Frank Downey said he might be able to spare some of his migrant workers for a few weeks.”

“Oh, how generous of No-Relation,” she replied with a smirk.

Mr. Frank Downey was a farmer who went about the nearby town of Shoshoni selling vegetables from a horse-drawn cart. Because the Downeys of Casper in Natrona County, the second-largest city in the state and the next county over to the east of Fremont, were a wealthy family of ancient and estimable lineage, the vegetable man was constantly referred to as “No-Relation” Downey.

“I was hoping for something more permanent around here,” she continued, walking into the kitchen. She then opened the refrigerator and peered inside, groaning internally. She hated cooking. “What would you like for supper tonight?”

“Hmm,” was his only reply, lost in thought.

A week ago they’d advertised in Fremont County’s only newspaper, _The Riverton Ranger_ , for help around the farm. They had purchased the failing 55-acre farm adjacent to their property, and were just awaiting the finalized paperwork from the bank. Those 55 acres had to be cared for as well as his own 90 acres and 75 dairy cows. They’d had a smattering of interest in the advertisement, but many people were woefully inexperienced. The few that had been qualified to take on the task of bringing the Ferguson farm back from the brink, to once again run it as it was meant to be run, deemed it too large an undertaking on top of maintaining the Van de Kamp farm.

He walked over to the playpen and the baby looked up at him, smiling. The child then grasped the mesh side of the playpen and pulled himself up into a standing position.

“The boy is gonna be walking before we know it,” he called back to his wife, who was still in the kitchen.

“He’s only nine months old, Jonathan. Kind of early for walking, I think.”

He smiled down at his new son, who started giggling. The baby reached up, his fists clenching and unclenching in an eagerness to be taken. “I think we’ve got a fast learner on our hands,” he said, leaning over to pick up his son. Once he held the baby in his arms, kissing him on the cheek, he started walking towards the front door. “I’m gonna take William out to see the cows.”

“Okay, but what do you want for sup…,” she started to reply, stepping over to stand in the kitchen entryway, but the front door had closed shut and they were gone. She sighed, shaking her head, and walked back over to the kitchen counter, opening one of the cabinets above.

Later on that afternoon, Martha had a meatloaf baking in the oven, and mashed potatoes and peas warming on the stovetop. It was still an hour before sunset, and she grabbed the broom, sweeping the floor. She suddenly heard the sound of moving tires on their gravel driveway and set the broom aside, walking out of the kitchen. Passing by the playpen in the living room, where William lay sleeping, she opened the front door and looked out the screen at the approaching blue pickup truck, a big Chevy.

“Who’s that, hon?” her husband called down the stairs.

“I don’t know!” she replied, calling over her shoulder.

The truck came to a stop in front of the house and she saw there was an African American couple in the front seat. The woman opened the passenger side door and slid out of the truck, holding a pie in her hands.

Martha smiled and turned back to call out to her husband again. “It’s the Dixons, from Lander.”

“Jesse and Elthea?” he asked in surprise, walking down the stairs. “What would they be doing here?”

“I don’t know. Let’s go find out.” She opened the screened door and stepped out onto the porch.

The couple walked away from the truck as Jonathan and Martha came down off the porch to greet them. Elthea Dixon, formerly Elthea Griffin of Riverton, was 34 years old and had lived in Fremont County most of her life. At the Wyoming State Fair in the summer of 1986, she met Jesse Dixon while standing in line for the Ferris wheel. He was six years older, had just moved from Natrona County that spring, and had started working on a farm outside Lander. They shared a seat on the Ferris wheel and less than a year later they were married.

Jonathan and Jesse shook hands as the two women smiled and nodded.

“It was nice running into you two at the county fair’s Twilight Parade,” said Martha. “But I must say this visit is a surprise.”

“Elthea, is that your strawberry rhubarb pie?” Jonathan asked, smiling, his eyebrows rising.

She chuckled, and glanced down at the pie in her hands. “Why yes, Mr. Van de Kamp, it is.”

He waved his hand casually and shook his head with knitted brows. “Call me Jonathan. How many times do I have to tell ya?” He then looked at Jesse. “So what brings you two up here from Lander?”

“Heard you were lookin’ for some farm help,” Jesse answered. “And that you hadn’t found any yet.”

Jonathan exchanged a surprised glance with Martha, before he turned back to reply. “Aren’t you managing Bob Wilson’s place?”

Bob Wilson owned The Muddy Creek Farm and Ranch, a large 2600-acre property outside the city of Lander, about a 30 minute drive from Riverton. It was a prosperous farm and horse ranch, and Jesse had been Mr. Wilson’s right hand man for the last decade. Most everyone in the county believed Muddy Creek to have thrived as well as it did precisely because Jesse Dixon was the one running it.

Jesse and Elthea looked at each other for a moment, and then he explained. “Me and Mr. Wilson had a difference of opinion. My opinion was that he is a bigot and a liar, and he disagreed. So, Elthea and I are now unemployed.”

Martha tried to fight back a smile, but was unsuccessful. Jonathan shot her an amused look from the corner of his eye. He knew what her opinion of Bob Wilson was. He also knew that if Jesse Dixon agreed to help him fix up the Ferguson farm, he’d be thanking his lucky stars. But he didn’t want to get his hopes up.

“Would you like to stay for supper?” Martha asked the couple.

Elthea smiled. “We’d love to.”

Jesse nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.” He then looked at Mr. Van de Kamp. “I’d like to take a look at your property, if that’s all right.”

“Of course,” Jonathan replied.

As the two women walked up the steps to the front porch, the two men started walking towards the barn. Jesse then quietly looked over the cow herd, milking parlor, and Jonathan’s pastures, not saying very much and often just nodding his head in silent approval. Then they hopped in his truck and drove over to the Ferguson farm.

*****

Martha opened the screened door and allowed Elthea to enter the house first. They walked to the kitchen, where the pie was set down on the counter.

“Would you like some tea or coffee?” Martha asked.

“Tea would be great, thanks.”

She smiled. “All right. I’ll put the kettle on to boil.”

A few minutes later, William woke up in his playpen and started crying just as the kettle started whistling.

“You get the baby and I’ll pour the hot water,” Elthea said with a smile, standing up from the circular kitchen table.

Walking into the living room, Martha picked up the crying baby and held him in her arms. She leaned over and picked up his yellow pacifier, placing it in his mouth, and he was instantly soothed. She then returned to the kitchen as Elthea was placing two steaming mugs of tea on the table.

Clearing her throat, Martha set the mug down after taking a sip. The tea was still too hot. She shifted a squirming William in her lap. “So… what happened with Bob Wilson? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Elthea’s easy expression hardened as quickly as the sudden onset of a summer thunderstorm. “Mr. Wilson’s son, Bobby Jr, came home this summer. He’d gone off to university in California six years ago and never came home once in the meantime, you know, not even for Christmas.” She sighed. “His poor mama. There was always a lot of talk about him. I guess he’d gotten some girl in trouble out there, then he got into drugs and started failing all his classes. Mr. Wilson sent him off to some fancy rehab center. It was all hushed up. Anyways, he finally graduated from college and came home in June.”

She paused, taking another sip from her tea before continuing. “Well… Bobby Jr’s favorite hobby upon coming home to the farm was finding ways to harass me. I… don’t care to elaborate, but I’ll just say that Bobby Wilson Jr is _not_ a moral man. He doesn’t have a decent bone in his body. I didn’t care for his attentions, and made myself crystal clear. I even spoke to Mrs. Wilson, hoping she’d have some measure of control over her own household. Boy, was I wrong. Bobby Jr went to his father, accused me and Jesse of thievin’ from the house, silver and other valuables that had mysteriously turned up missin’, and said that we’d offered to introduce him to one of our friends who deals drugs in the city.”

Martha’s eyes widened. “Bob Wilson didn’t believe this?!”

“Deep down, I don’t think he does,” replied Elthea, sighing. “But he finally had his pride and joy back home, and Bobby Jr said either me and Jesse go or he does. We stood in Mr. Wilson’s office while that good-for-nothin’ boy said the most vile, hateful things about us. Ugly, ugly words. And Mr. Wilson did nothin’. He just sat there, as useless as a bag of hammers. Me and Jesse had been with him for so many years, and we’d done good work. Lord knows Jesse turned that place into what it is today. It wasn’t even a horse ranch when Jesse started workin’ as the manager. Anyways, as soon as Bobby Jr gets through with his tirade, Jesse spoke his piece, and Bobby Jr is just starin’ daggers at his daddy. Finally, Mr. Wilson stood up and walked over to stand by his son and… basically said that’s what he gets for hiring people like us. Of course, he used more colorful language than that.”

Closing her eyes, Martha shook her head in disgust. “I’m sorry.”

Elthea sighed. “Well, that was a month ago. We tried to get work in Lander, but Mr. Wilson blackballed us. No one would hire Jesse, which is downright crazy. I couldn’t get work anywhere either. Mr. Wilson had told everyone we were thieves and not to be trusted. Muddy Creek does big business down there. No one wanted to get on his bad side.”

“I can’t believe that happened to you, after all those years with the Wilsons,” said Martha, shaking her head in disbelief, her insides bubbling with indignation.

“They’ll get what’s coming to them, seeing as Bobby Jr plans on stickin’ around,” Elthea replied darkly. “Anyways, we’ve been stayin’ with my parents in Riverton since Friday. We drove up to the Hummingbird Diner in Shoshoni after church this morning and ran into Geraldine Berry. She told us that Mr. Van de Kamp had bought the Ferguson farm and was lookin’ for help.”

Martha nodded. “We sure could use the help. Two farms to run, one that desperately needs work just to function again, and a new baby… We have our hands full. It’s a lot to take on right now.”

Elthea drank from her mug of tea. “I mostly worked in the household at the Wilsons’ place. You know, cookin’ and cleanin’ so Mrs. Wilson didn’t have to. I honestly don’t know much about animals, or crops.” She glanced at William, his big blue eyes gazing at her fixedly as he sat on his mother’s lap. “Or babies. The Wilson children were mostly grown by the time I came to work at the house.”

“I don’t know much about babies, either,” Martha said, chuckling. “I think you just learn as you go along. But if you wanna oversee the household stuff, I can help Jonathan more on the farm. Since he came into our lives, I’ve been busy with him and keeping things in order around here. Jonathan’s just been out in the barn all day long, feeding and milking and bringing the cows to and from the pasture all by himself. It’ll be good for me to help him more.”

As Martha held William on her lap with one arm, lifting her hot tea with the other, Elthea gazed at the baby. “So what’s his name?”

“William,” she answered, smiling, before taking another sip from her mug.

“How long have you had him?” Elthea asked. “I didn’t see him with you at the county fair over the summer.”

Martha shook her head. “We only just got him a couple weeks ago.”

She nodded, giving her a small smile. “He’s an answer to your prayers.”

At this, William tilted his head to look up at her and Martha looked down, smiling. “Yes.” Her eyes then flew to Elthea’s, her expression full of compassion. “Have you and Jesse ever considered adopting?” she asked gently.

Elthea shook her head. “We talked about it a couple times over the years, but Jesse’s not too keen. He doesn’t like the idea of raising someone else’s child. Says, ‘you never know what you’re gonna get.’ I think that’s true even of your own flesh and blood. But he says that at least with your own flesh and blood you can explain things. A stranger’s child comes with no explanations.” She sighed. “Oh well. There’s no changin’ Jesse’s mind when it’s made up.”

“Jesse is a good man,” Martha stated, before lifting her mug of tea and taking a sip.

“He’s true blue,” replied Elthea, smiling.

*****

“Mrs. Ferguson kept the farmhouse up fairly well,” Jonathan said as they walked into the kitchen. “There are four bedrooms, three upstairs and one downstairs. The house doesn’t really need a lot work. It’s pretty much move-in ready.”

Jesse looked over the blue cabinets of the French Country Kitchen design, along with its clean white walls and white appliances. He nodded quietly, and then they moved through the rest of the house. After the house had been gone over, they made their way to the rest of the property. The barn was in disrepair as well as the livestock pens. Where there once had been goats, pigs, and chickens, now was filled with broken fencing and untold muck. The animals had all been sold off by Blue Ferguson to help pay the mortgage.

From there, the two men went out to the acreage of farmland. Jesse crouched down and felt the soil, rubbing it between the palms of his hands. He sighed and stood up, brushing his hands off against his jeans. “This farm has fallen to shit,” he said.

“I know,” Jonathan replied. “The former owners made no attempts to rebuild the soil. Production decreased steadily over the years until it became impossible to get a decent yield.”

“Maybe if that Blue Ferguson had spent more time with the land instead of the inside of a bar, the farm would’ve done all right. I’m sure his daddy is rolling over in his grave at the state of this place.”

Jonathan sighed, and could only nod in agreement. If Old Ferguson miraculously rose up from said grave, he’d take one look at his farm and wish he were dead.

Jesse ran his fingers over his mouth, thinking. “It’s one thing to run a farm, and another thing entirely to bring a farm back to life.”

“It’s gonna take a lot of hard work,” Jonathan conceded. “Years of hard work.”

“There’s nothing wrong with hard work,” said Jesse, shoving his hands in his pockets as he gazed out over the land. “Hard work is the best kind.”

Jonathan’s eyes widened, and he started to smile. “You want the job? Martha and I can’t do it ourselves. Lord knows we could use your help.”

He grinned. “Lord knows we could use the work.”

Immediately, relief flooded Jonathan’s insides and he felt as if a massive weight had been lifted off him. “So what do you think is the best plan of action?”

“The ground is no good,” Jesse replied. “Planting corn, wheat, or beans would be a waste of time, effort, and money.” He sighed, thinking. “We should plant sweet clover in every field.”

“Clover?” asked Jonathan, his brows knitting.

Jesse nodded. “Sweet clover replenishes the nitrogen in the soil, and nitrogen is necessary for good crop production. The clover will bring the ground back to life. It’ll take a couple years, but I prefer the earth to repair itself. Always the best way. And then after we can start sowing crops. I think that’s a good plan. What do you think?”

Jonathan thought it was no wonder that Bob Wilson had hired Jesse Dixon on the spot when the young man had showed up on his farm all those years ago. “We’ll need to bring in more money somehow. Can’t make a profit off of sweet clover.”

Grinning, Jesse looked over at him. “We’re just gonna have to get you some more cows. You sure do got a lot of land for only 75 cows. Most dairy farms average at least 115 around here.”

“Well, 75 cows is all Martha and I can manage on our own,” he replied.

“Me and Elthea are here now,” Jesse said, holding out his hand to shake. “You can have more.”

Jonathan smiled, and shook the black man’s hand. “Let’s go get some supper. I’m starving.”

That evening, the two couples sat around the dining table eating, talking, and laughing. William sat in his high chair, eating mashed peas. While Martha dished up the strawberry rhubarb pie for dessert, Jonathan carried the baby over to his playpen. As he returned to the table, she set a dish of pie and vanilla ice cream down in front of him. Looking up, she gazed at William sitting in the living room. He was reaching for the green three-eyed alien in a blue spacesuit, his favorite stuffed toy, the one that had come with him from his original home. Seemingly of its own accord, the toy began moving across the playpen floor towards her son. He giggled when it reached his outstretched hand.

Martha’s eyes widened in shock and then she blinked, shaking her head as she slowly sat down in her chair at the table. She must be exhausted, and had only imagined it. But as her husband and their guests continued to talk about plans for the Dixons to move into the Ferguson’s farmhouse, she found she couldn’t completely focus on the conversation, and kept throwing uneasy glances into the living room. But nothing else occurred for the rest of the evening that would give cause for concern.


	131. "One day you'll ask me to speak of a truth - of the miracle of your birth."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas on the Van de Kamps' farm and William's first birthday. More unexplained events occur, compelling the Van de Kamps to look for some information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping At Last - "Light"
> 
> May these words be the first  
> To find your ears  
> The world is brighter than the sun  
> Now that you’re here  
> Though your eyes will need some time to adjust  
> To the overwhelming light surrounding us
> 
> I’ll give you everything I have  
> I’ll teach you everything I know  
> I promise I’ll do better  
> I will always hold you close  
> But I will learn to let you go  
> I promise I’ll do better
> 
> I will soften every edge  
> I’ll hold the world to its best  
> And I’ll do better  
> With every heartbeat I have left  
> I will defend your every breath  
> And I’ll do better
> 
> ’Сause you are loved  
> You are loved more than you know  
> I hereby pledge all of my days  
> To prove it so  
> Though your heart is far too young to realize  
> The unimaginable light you hold inside
> 
> I’ll give you everything I have  
> I’ll teach you everything I know  
> I promise I’ll do better  
> I will always hold you close  
> But I will learn to let you go  
> I promise I’ll do better
> 
> I will rearrange the stars  
> Pull ‘em down to where you are  
> I promise I’ll do better  
> With every heartbeat I have left  
> I’ll defend your every breath  
> I promise I’ll do better
> 
> I will soften every edge  
> Hold the world to its best  
> I promise I’ll do better  
> With every heartbeat I have left  
> I’ll defend your every breath  
> I’ll do better

December 24, 2001

It wasn’t going to be a white Christmas this year, despite the cold. It hadn’t snowed in almost two weeks, and even that shower had been less than an inch. The first real snowfall of winter had yet to come. The trees were bare, except for the evergreens in the distance on the hills around the farm, and almost everything had taken on a dull grayish-brown color.

Inside the Van de Kamps’ farmhouse, the dining room table was set for eight, plus a baby’s highchair. There was a snowy white tablecloth over the top, red glassware, and fine china with a design of spruce garlands decorated with bows of satin, hearts, drums, and angels winding their way around the plates. A floral centerpiece arrangement flanked by white votive candles donned the middle of the table, which included red roses and carnations, Christmas greens, silver ornament balls, and glittery pinecones. A large Christmas tree stood in the corner of the living room draped in red and white garland, hung with silver snowflakes and white balls. Stockings were hung from the mantel over the fireplace that was decorated with red ribbons and evergreen boughs, poinsettias sat on the two tables at either end of the couch. Red valances capped the sheer white curtains covering the large windows.

At 3:00 pm, Jonathan, Martha, and Jesse went out to the compost dairy barn and opened the large doors to let the cows out. All 100 Holsteins then started to make their way from the barn to the milking parlor a quarter mile away, where Jesse’s brother-in-law, Earl Griffin, was waiting for them. The cows were allowed to take their time, drinking from water troughs along the way to the dairy, as their caregivers walked casually alongside them.

Over the past two months, 25 more cows had been added to the herd, increasing the dairy farm’s milk production. Several days before, on the 21st, the first day of winter, Jonathan and Jesse seeded the Ferguson farm’s fields with yellow blossom sweet clover. They expected to have seedlings by mid-summer.

Inside the house, Elthea was busy in the kitchen preparing Christmas dinner with her mother, Harriet Griffin, and sister-in-law, Pam. Elthea’s father, Emmanuel, was in the living room adding more firewood to the hearth. Stirring the pot of tomato and sweet basil bisque, Elthea soon heard the loud sound of a laughing baby. She exchanged humorous glances with her family, and stepped away from the stove, moving to stand in the kitchen doorway.

William was walking as fast as he could around the dining table, dressed in blue denim overalls and red shoes. The Van de Kamps’ dog, Scout, was following him. As soon as the boy reached the end of the table, rounding it to walk up the other side, Scout turned right around and walked back to the opposite end. William came round and bumped face to face with the waiting Scout, sending him into a fit of giggles. The baby then pushed his way past the dog, heading back down to the other end of the table, the dog chasing him and then turning back to meet him at the other end. Around and around the table William went, laughing and playing with Scout, seemingly never tiring of this game.

Elthea shook her head, smiling, and returned to the kitchen. At 5:00, everyone sat around the Van de Kamps’ dining room table. Along with the tomato bisque, there was a spread of cider-brined pork loin with cranberry mustard, mashed potatoes, cinnamon and brown sugar roasted butternut squash, and green beans with smoked bacon. William sat in his high chair at the table, between his parents, and when he first tasted the whipped squash, his eyes lit up and he smiled, excitedly reaching for more.

“He just loves that brown sugar and cinnamon,” said Jonathan, smiling, before he took a sip from his glass of red wine.

“Just like his pa,” Martha replied, giving him a grin.

Harriet Griffin watched the baby, a little smile on her face. “I can’t believe he can already hold a spoon so well. That’s quite an achievement.”

Jonathan nodded. “He’s full of milestones, this kid.”

“Mama, Mama, baba…”

Turning to look at her son, Martha saw William reaching for his bottle of milk, which had gotten pushed just beyond his reach. Just as the bottle gave a slight wiggle of movement, she quickly grabbed it and put it into his hand. Her stomach knotted as he began to drink and she gave a quick glance around the table at her guests, hoping she’d just imagined the bottle moving. No one else seemed to have noticed anything.

At 9:00, after Buche de Noel yule log cake and some assorted cookies had been served for dessert, the Dixons and Griffins gathered at the Van de Kamps’ front door, slipping on their winter coats as they needed to make their way into town to attend Mass at St. Margaret’s Catholic Church. Jonathan held William in his arms as he and his wife said goodbye to their guests.

“It was so nice having you here for Christmas dinner,” she said. “Usually it’s just me and Jonathan for the holidays.”

“It’s too bad you don’t have any other family ‘round here,” said Emmanuel Griffin.

Jonathan nodded. “Just us. Well, and the boy now. I guess he’ll be growing up an only child, just like his parents.”

Harriet sighed as she buttoned up her dark green coat. “It’s a shame both your parents weren’t able to experience their grandchild. But I’m sure they’re mighty proud, lookin’ down on you now.”

Mr. and Mrs. Van de Kamp exchanged a smile, and nodded quietly, before she turned to Elthea. “I hope you have a good day tomorrow with Jesse’s family.”

“With all the Dixons and Griffins, it’ll be a houseful, that’s for certain.”

“Thanks again for the delicious meal,” said Jonathan. “You really outdid yourselves.”

“That’s nothin’ compared to the cookin’ we’ll be doing tomorrow,” Harriet said, laughing. Elthea and her sister-in-law Pam both nodded, their eyes wide, and then chuckled as well.

Her younger brother Earl opened the front door, and with a goodbye and thank you to the Van de Kamps, he stepped out onto the porch, followed by his wife and parents. Jesse shook Jonathan’s hand and then walked out. Mrs. Van de Kamp followed Elthea to the door, holding it open.

“Enjoy Midnight Mass.”

“Thanks, Martha,” Elthea replied, smiling. “I’ll see you Wednesday morning. Bright and early.”

She smiled, nodding. “See you then. Goodnight.”

The Van de Kamps then sat in the living room in front of the fire, gazing at the illuminated beauty of the large Christmas tree covered in decorations in the corner of the room, next to the window. The side light that lit another corner threw shadows onto the black wood burner in the fireplace, lit with flames. William sat on the rug covering the hardwood floor, cuddling with Scout, who was lying on top of it and keeping warm in front of the hearth. Jonathan and Martha smiled at their son, feeling truly blessed.

*****

January 1, 2002

It was New Year's Day and William was officially one year old. After supper that Tuesday evening, Jesse and Elthea came over to the Van de Kamps’ house, bringing with them the carrot cake with a thin layer of cream cheese frosting that she had baked. Once everyone was seated at the dining table, Martha dished up a small piece of cake and added one candle, Jonathan striking a match and lighting it. She then placed the cake in front of William as he sat in his highchair.

“Okay, we’re gonna blow out the candle,” he said, leaning over his son.

The baby giggled, his blue eyes shining with delight as he gazed fixedly at the lit candle.

Jonathan started to count down from the number three, Martha holding the camera, and as he inhaled a deep breath, William blew the candle out. His parents stared in amazement.

“Did you teach him how to do that, Martha?”

She laughed in disbelief. “No. Did you?”

They turned to look at Elthea, who shook her head emphatically. Martha and Jonathan chuckled, shrugging their shoulders, saying maybe he’d seen it on the television, and then the carrot cake was dished up for the adults. An hour later, the Dixons were putting their coats back on and Martha handed Elthea her Tupperware container with the leftover cake, thanking her. They then walked out the front door, stepping out onto the porch.

“Lord, that is a peculiar child,” she said, opening up the passenger side door of their blue 2000 Chevy Silverado.

“He’s just a baby, Elthea,” replied Jesse, climbing into the driver’s seat.

She sighed and got in, buckling her seat belt as he started the ignition. “Sometimes when he’s lookin’ at me, with those big blue eyes… sometimes it seems like he knows what I’m thinkin’.” She turned to look at her husband. “That boy could bore a hole in a stone wall with those eyes o’ his.”

Jesse let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head, and put the truck into drive, pulling away from the Van de Kamp farmhouse. Elthea said no more, lost in thought. There was definitely something strange about the child, something she couldn’t explain.

That night, William was laid to sleep in his crib. The temperature was supposed to drop dramatically overnight, and so Martha decided to keep the door open, allowing the warmth of the living room to enter. Scout the dog then lay down in the nursery doorway, keeping guard as usual. Two and a half hours before sunrise, Jonathan’s alarm clock went off at 5:00 am. He and Martha awoke groggily, blinking themselves awake slowly. They lingered for a few moments, not feeling rushed to get out of their warm bed. They then heard William giggling on the baby monitor and they looked at each other, smiling. But almost immediately after, Scout started barking loudly. This was unusual. He never was a very vocal dog. His preferred style of communication was usually a sort of chuffing sound. The barking continued, as well as the giggling, and the Van de Kamps went to investigate.

Jonathan and Martha came down the stairs, and at the foot of the staircase was the open doorway to the nursery, where Scout stood barking at whatever was happening inside. William kept on giggling. The dog turned his head, seeing them approach and backed out of the doorway, moving aside. They stepped to the nursery. It was mostly dark inside the room, as it was still some time before the sun would rise. Martha flipped the light switch, and then her mouth fell open, she and her husband standing there agape.

Their son was sitting up in his crib, laughing and pointed to the air above him. His white buffalo mobile was spinning. His stuffed animals, letter blocks, and other toys were floating through the air, as if gravity could no longer hold them down. He slowly spun them through the air, then directed them at himself, and just when they were about to hit the crib, he’d move his hand and they’d go spinning off into the air again, sending the boy into a fit of giggles.

“William!” Jonathan called out, his voice stern and authoritative.

Immediately the mobile stopped spinning and all of the toys stopped in midair, hovering for less than a second before falling to the nursery floor with a collective thud. The baby started to cry loudly. Martha approached the crib cautiously and when she reached it, leaning over the side, William lifted his arms up toward her, wanting to be held, crocodile tears rolling down his cheeks. She grasped his sides and lifted him up, holding him against her and running her hand over his back in soothing circles.

She locked eyes with her husband, who stood in the nursery doorway, speechless. After a minute, William’s cries lessened and he snuggled against Martha.

“Maybe we should call Franz,” she said apprehensively.

“I don’t see how Dr. Kafka can explain what just happened, hon,” Jonathan replied. “He’s a pediatrician. William isn’t sick. …Is he?”

Martha felt the baby’s forehead, cupped his cheek, and he looked at her, no longer crying. “He seems fine. But maybe he should have a checkup, just to be sure?”

He nodded, giving her a shrug. “All right. I’ll call him.”

Later that afternoon, Dr. Franz Kafka drove to the farm from his office in town. The doctor was an older man with balding gray hair. His gray hair wasn’t the only thing that dated him, as his wardrobe was also a couple fashion eras behind the times. He ran a small family practice in town, which he’d taken over from his father, who had acquired it after his own father retired. Dr. Kafka looked William over, checked the boy’s patient records, and declared him to be perfectly fine.

When the doctor asked the Van de Kamps what had prompted their concerns, they didn’t go into detail. Same as when the Dixons had asked them earlier why the doctor was to be expected. After telling the Van de Kamps not to worry too much about their son, he walked back out the door. Jonathan and Martha watched him drive off, unsure what to think. With a glance at the clock, they saw that duty called and put on their coats, before walking out of the house and heading for the cow barn. Elthea stood in the kitchen doorway watching them leave. She looked over at William’s playpen, where he had fallen asleep holding onto that green stuffed alien toy, and then returned to the stove.

*****

March 23, 2002

A late winter blizzard had swept through the Midwest, and despite the fact that it was now officially spring, there was still at least a foot of snow on the ground all over Wyoming. It was Saturday, shopping day, and after lunch Martha had driven into town with Elthea to the supermarket. Jonathan was in the living room, sitting on the couch reading the newspaper while William, dressed in blue jeans and sneakers, played tug of war with Scout. Just before 2:30 pm, Jesse walked into the house through the back door after having added fresh bedding to the cow barn.

“There’s a fresh pot of hot coffee in the kitchen,” Jonathan called out.

Jesse closed the door and placed his waterproof work coat on one of the wall hooks. “Thanks. I’ll just clean up first.” He then stepped into the hallway and headed into the bathroom.

A few moments later, there was a loud banging on the front door. Jonathan got up to answer it, and saw 14 year old Charlotte Pierson standing there in a purple coat and hat, two strawberry blonde pigtails falling behind her shoulders. Her eyes were full of tears and she looked frightened. Her face was red, and she hugged herself against the cold. He quickly opened the screened door to let her inside.

“Why, Charlotte, what on earth is the matter? Did you walk all the way over here in this cold?” Her family’s farm was on the other end of Hidden Valley Road, half a mile away.

“It’s my horse, Mr. Van de Kamp,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “Sunny, the one Pa got me two Christmases ago.”

He nodded, remembering Tom Pierson gifting his young daughter with a mare. “What’s happened?”

Charlotte choked back a sob. “I don’t know. But she’s awful sick, and she’s pregnant. Gonna foal later this year. Pa doesn’t know what to do and Doc Sprague isn’t answering his phone.”

“I think I heard Miss Berry say that he was going to be visiting his daughter in Cheyenne this weekend,” replied Jonathan, recalling his conversation with the librarian at church last Sunday. “He probably won’t be back till Sunday evening.”

“But I need help,” she said, her chin quivering, her eyes brimming over. “I know Mr. Dixon is awful good with horses. My pa said that if anyone would know what do to other than the horse doc, it’d be him. He said to run over here quick as lightning and bring you and Mr. Dixon back with me. Please say you’ll come!”

Jonathan put his hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “It’s all right. We’ll come.” He turned and called over his shoulder. “Jesse!”

“Yeah?” he called back, walking into the hallway that led to the front of the house.

Jesse then entered the living room and saw a very scared looking girl standing at the front door with Mr. Van de Kamp. “What’s goin’ on?”

They quickly explained about Charlotte’s sick horse. While Jesse grabbed his brown hooded Carhartt jacket from the coat rack, Jonathan picked William up and carried him to the door, where he helped the toddler get his own winter coat and hat on. All four then left the house and climbed into the cab of Jesse’s Chevy, William sitting on his father’s lap. They made a brief stop at the Ferguson farm, where Jesse grabbed a black duffel bag, before driving one mile down Hidden Valley Road to the Pierson farm.

Entering an enclosed paddock that had been built on the side of the barn, Jesse and Mr. Van de Kamp followed Charlotte inside. Her father and two younger brothers, John and Terry, were in the paddock. She walked over to them and put her arms around her father’s waist. Mr. Pierson shook Jesse and Jonathan’s hands. There on the floor, lying on top of bedding made of hay, was the sick mare, Sunny. Jesse’s eyes widened, and he groaned internally.

The horse’s lower abdomen and legs were swollen, and it looked incredibly weak, either unable or unwilling to stand. Jonathan immediately knew there was a very serious problem. Jesse quickly removed his jacket and dropped his duffel bag on the floor. Unzipping it, he donned latex gloves and removed a thermometer with a string attached to the end. He lubricated the tip with Vaseline and moved the horse’s tail to the side, inserting the thermometer. Less than a minute later, the digital thermometer beeped and it was removed.

“Temp’s 104,” said Jesse. “Not good.”

He removed his gloves and placed them into a plastic bag with the thermometer. Jesse took out a stethoscope, placing it on the left side of the horse’s chest, just behind the elbow. “A normal pulse rate is 40 beats per minute,” he said aloud, before glancing at his watch. He became silent and started to count. He then sighed. “Pulse rate is 24. Her breathing is labored also. There’s an irregular heartbeat.”

Jesse stood up, removing the stethoscope from his ears, a grim expression on his face. “Did you have a Coggins test done when you bought the mare, Tom? Or any time since in the last two years? And what about your other horses?”

Mr. Pierson slowly shook his head and his stomach knotted. He then looked at the horse, his heart sinking. He helplessly looked down at his daughter, tears welling up in her eyes as she returned his gaze.

“The mare’s got EIA,” Jesse said, sighing. “But it’s impossible to know how long she’s had it, without that test.”

His words hung in the air, spelling doom. Jonathan closed his eyes, hanging his head. A diagnosis of equine infectious anemia sounded a death knell for a horse, and all others it may have infected.

Jesse continued. “Looks acute. If she survives, the chances are high she’ll abort. But the way things look, both the mare and the foal aren’t going to make it. The humane thing to do is put her down before it gets worse.”

Charlotte burst into choking sobs and ran from her father’s side, dropping to her knees beside her beloved horse. Her younger brothers were also crying, and their father walked them out of the paddock, heading for the house to bring them inside to their mother. Charlotte stroked the mare’s neck, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks as she sobbed.

William started to squirm in his father’s arms. “Papa, horsey sick, horsey sick.”

“Yes, William, the horse is sick.”

But the boy kept squirming, wanting to be put down. Jonathan finally relinquished his hold and set his son down on the ground. William walked over to the crying Charlotte and crouched beside her, stroking the mare’s neck back and forth just like she did. Over and over he kept repeating the words “horsey sick.”

Jesse zipped up his duffel bag and put his coat back on. He then turned and gazed down at the horse. He looked over the mare’s shiny chestnut brown coat. She was too beautiful for words. It was a real shame. Suddenly the swelling in the horse’s legs and lower abdomen began to rapidly go down, dissipating before his very eyes. His mouth fell open and he stared, blinking.

“Jonathan…”

He turned his sad gaze from Charlotte and William to Jesse, before looking down at the horse. They then locked eyes, both speechless. Jesse removed his coat again and unzipped his bag. He put on another pair of latex gloves and grabbed the digital thermometer. Pushing the tail aside, he inserted it and waited for the beep.

“It’s 100.5,” he said in amazement, reading the results. He looked up at Jonathan, eyes wide.

Charlotte sniffled, her attention sparked, and looked over at them. “What? Is she… is Sunny getting better?”

Ignoring her question, Jesse walked back over to the left side of the horse, and crouched down to take its pulse rate. He stared at Charlotte and William’s hands, still gently stroking the mare’s neck. After a minute, he stood back up.

“Pulse is 36,” said Jesse, shaking his head as Tom Pierson returned to the paddock. “And her breathing is quiet and easy now.”

“She’s getting better?!” Charlotte exclaimed. “Pa won’t have to put her down? And what about her foal?”

Her father’s eyes widened. “What? What’s happening?”

Jesse sighed. “It appears as though the mare’s acute symptoms are… going away. I wouldn’t put her down just yet. But you’ll need to get this horse checked out by a vet as soon as possible. To be on the safe side, you’ll need to test all your other horses for EIA. You _have_ to, Tom. It’s serious.”

“I will, Jesse. I will.”

Mr. Van de Kamp gazed fixedly at William’s hand stroking the mare’s neck. “Horsey all better,” the boy said in his small, musical voice.

“It’s a miracle, Pa,” said Charlotte, her voice choking with emotion.

Jonathan and Jesse exchanged looks, both not really knowing what to think. The half-mile ride back to the Van de Kamp farm was a quiet one, and William had fallen asleep before they’d even come to a stop in front of the house. They got out of the truck to see their wives stepping out onto the porch.

“Where in the world have you two been?” asked Martha, her hands on her hips, the screened door closing shut behind her.

“The Pierson farm,” Jonathan answered, carrying a sleeping William towards the porch steps. “Their foaling mare is sick. Or… _was_ sick, anyways.”

Elthea looked at Jesse, at his slightly bemused expression. “Were you able to help them?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but then shut it, shrugging. He was silent for a moment. “I did what I could. Horse needs to see the vet.”

“It’s time to head to the dairy,” said Martha.

The two men nodded, and Jonathan handed William over to Elthea. She then carried him inside the house as her husband and the Van de Kamps started walking to the cow barn.

*****

Over dinner, Jonathan told Martha all that had happened from the moment Charlotte Pierson had shown up at the house, banging on the front door, until he and Jesse had returned. He still had no real explanation as to how quickly the horse had improved. He and his wife stared at their son, sitting in his booster seat in a chair next to them, contentedly eating his piece of the lasagna that Elthea had made.

“Do you think… William had anything to do with it?” Martha asked hesitantly.

“But… that’s just not possible,” replied Jonathan, even though his gut was telling him that it was also the likeliest explanation.

She paused, her mouth twitching. “His mobile spinning all by itself isn’t possible either… among other things.”

Sighing, he felt at a loss. Those things were true. But what was to be done about it? He started to worry for his son, wondering what would happen if word got out about his peculiarities. Instead of feeling fear over the unknown surrounding William, he only felt an intense desire to protect him.

“That letter in your dresser drawer,” spoke Martha, breaking the silence. “I think it’s high time we read it.”

They finished their dinner and when she walked into the kitchen to dish up some cinnamon applesauce for William, Jonathan headed up the stairs to their bedroom. He walked over to his dark wood dresser, opening the top drawer. In the far left corner was a white letter-sized envelope. He pulled it out, seeing the familiar _“William”_ written in someone else’s handwriting. He still wasn’t sure whether they should read it, whether it would be best to wait and give it to the boy to read when he’s older. He sighed and returned downstairs.

After Martha gave William his bath, she laid him down to sleep in his crib at 7:00 pm, shutting out the light and closing the nursery door. Scout faithfully got up from his spot on the rug and walked over to lie down in front of it. She smiled at the dog and joined her husband in the living room, sitting beside him on the couch. The warmth and sounds of the crackling fire filled the room.

Jonathan held the envelope in his hands. He stared at it for a moment, and then gave it to his wife. Martha hesitated slightly, and then tore open the envelope with her forefinger. Inside was one piece of lined paper, folded. She pulled it out and read it aloud.

“My dearest William,

One day you'll ask me to speak of a truth – of the miracle of your birth. To explain what is unexplained. And if I falter or fail on this day, know there is an answer, my child, a sacred imperishable truth, but one you may never hope to find alone. Chance meeting your perfect other, your perfect opposite – your protector and endangerer. Chance embarking with this other on the greatest of journeys, a search for truths fugitive and imponderable. If one day this chance may befall you, my son, do not fail or falter to seize it. The truths are out there. And if one day you should behold a miracle, as I have in you, you will learn the truth is not found in science, or on some unseen plane, but by looking into your own heart. And in that moment, you will be blessed, and stricken. For the truest truths are what hold us together, or keep us painfully, desperately apart.

Your father and I love you more than you will ever know,

Mom”

Mrs. Van de Kamp wasn’t exactly sure what she had just read, and turned a confused look on her husband. He took the letter from her hand and read it again, silently to himself. “‘Truths fugitive and imponderable?’” he asked under his breath, his brows furrowing. “What does that even mean?”

She chewed on her bottom lip. “Do you think she gave him up because he was… different?”

“His birth mother says he’s ‘unexplained,’” Jonathan said, glancing over the letter again. “Or… his birth was, anyways. But it doesn’t seem like the child himself is the reason she couldn’t keep him, does it?”

“She says he’s a miracle,” replied Martha.

He sighed, thinking. “Maybe he is. He’s certainly been an answer to _our_ prayers, at least. Some things happen for a reason. Maybe God has a plan for this child.”

She shook her head, feeling worried. “They say the best thing you can do for a child is spare him as much suffering as possible. But how can we do right by him? He’ll want to know why he’s different, and how. We don’t have any answers. And from the sound of this letter, neither does his birth mother.”

Jonathan threw his arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “We don’t need to have all the answers. And it’s impossible to spare anyone the suffering we’re all in store for. That’s just life. The best thing we can do for William is just to love him, to show him that he’s wanted and needed.”

“Do you think we’ll be good parents?” she asked, her brows still knitted in worry. “Even if we tell him everything we know about him, he’ll have so many questions that we’ll never be able to answer.”

He smiled reassuringly. “You’re already a wonderful mother to him. We’ll just do the best we can to give him the tools he’ll need later in life. It’ll be up to him to fill in the rest.”

Martha nodded quietly, and she returned her husband’s smile, before leaning in to kiss him. At 9:00 pm, they turned out the lights downstairs and checked the locks on the windows and doors. They walked into the nursery, where William was sleeping peacefully. Martha gently caressed his cheek and Jonathan smiled down at his beautiful son. There was something very special about this boy, something good. He just knew it. He was going to do everything he could to make his son’s world safe and happy, as long as it was in his power to do so. Taking his wife by the hand, their fingers threading, he led her out of the nursery and up the stairs to their bedroom.


	132. "The weather is somehow an expression of Holman Hardt's feelings or better still, the feelings that he's not expressing."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still dealing with the aftermath of the events in Colorado, Mulder and Scully make Kroner their temporary residing place. Despite his concerns, he decides to pay Holman and Sheila Hardt a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noah And The Whale - "The First Days Of Spring"
> 
> It's the first day of spring  
> And my life is starting over again  
> Well the trees grow, the river flows  
> And its water will wash away my sin  
> For I do believe that everyone  
> Has one chance to fuck up their lives  
> Like a cut down tree, I will rise again  
> I'll be bigger, and stronger than ever before
> 
> If I'm still here hoping that one day you may come back  
> If I'm still here hoping that one day you may come back
> 
> There's a hope in every new seed  
> And every flower that grows on the Earth  
> And though I love you, and you know that  
> Well I no longer know what that's worth  
> And I'll come back to you, in a year or so  
> And rebuild, ready to become  
> Oh, the person you believed in  
> Or the person that you used to love
> 
> If I'm still here hoping that one day you may come back  
> If I'm still here hoping that one day you may come back

On Saturday, March 23rd, he started to wake up, slowly blinking his eyes, and instantly became aware that a warm and petite body wasn’t nestled up against his. Mulder turned his head to look, seeing Scully lying on her side with her back to him, almost to the edge of the mattress, as if she had gone as far away from him as possible without getting on the floor. He stared at the ceiling, feeling helpless. He tried to go back to sleep, but soon realized that would be impossible. Glancing at the digital clock on the bedside table, he watched the time go from 11:37 to 11:38. He’d slept about six hours.

He then sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, and leaned over, his head in his hands. She’d come very close the previous night to losing her life. It was entirely his fault. But that was nothing new. He heard an echo from the past, the words of Bill Scully Jr. He sighed. He really was one sorry son of a bitch. They were fugitives from the law, under the constant threat of discovery, of death, and he was entirely to blame. They’d lost their son, and it was all his fault.

She’d almost died, again, and it was because of him. He didn’t really know what to do, or what to say to her. He’d apologized the night before, held her as she’d cried. He could handle that. But then she’d gone quiet. All these years together, and he still didn’t know how to handle her silence. It wasn’t as though he needed her to talk a lot. He knew she wasn’t particularly demonstrative and she wasn’t chatty. He was perfectly fine with sitting with her in mutual silence for prolonged periods of time; it was comfortable, familiar.

But this was a different kind of silence. It was the silence that had filled the air when they’d traveled back to Washington together from Minnesota, after she’d been attacked by Donnie Pfaster. The silence that had filled the basement office when she’d returned from work after Ed Jerse had nearly killed her. It was the silence that had come over her when she was battling her cancer. The silence that had filled his apartment that night he’d found her on his floor, covered in blood, when Phillip Padgett had burned his manuscript and ripped out his own heart in the basement. It was a painful silence, which he usually felt was directed at him in some way that he always found difficult to figure out. It was deafening, and he felt powerless against it.

Mulder’s eyes fell on the black duffel bag he’d brought in from the Jeep, the one that had belonged to the man who had tried to kill Scully. He quietly moved off the bed and walked over to it, carrying it over to the desk against the wall, setting it on the floor as he sat down in the chair. He unzipped the bag and started to peruse its contents.

There were several serrated blades in a small leather case, one missing, and two Smith & Wesson .45 semi-automatic pistols along with a box of ammunition. The duffel bag also contained some clothing, several paperback books, numerous fake passports, different colored contacts with solution, a red Swiss army knife, a lock pick set, a storage locker key, a Department of Defense key card, several credit cards, and roughly $100,000 in cash, made up with different currency. Clearly the man had been a traveler; an international assassin, employed by their government.

He wondered what was going on in Colorado, if the cabin had burned down completely or if someone driving down the road that night had seen the smoke and called the fire department. He walked over to his own black duffel bag and pulled out the silver Nokia cell phone given to Scully from Doggett. They always kept it on, and tried to keep it as fully charged as possible. He supposed no news was good news. There was no missed calls, no messages, but the battery was getting low. He grabbed the charger cord and plugged the phone into an outlet in the wall, before setting it down on top of the wooden desk.

Glancing at the digital clock on the bedside table, Mulder saw that it was going on noon. He got up and grabbed the remote, hitting the power button and turning on the television. The TV’s volume was already at its lowest decibel, so there was no need for him to mute the sound. Flipping through some channels, he came to one of Kroner’s local television stations, KPJK on Channel Five. The 12 o’clock news was about to start.

He raised the volume on the television just enough to enable him to hear. He watched with interest, sitting down on the end of the bed, after a quick glance at Scully had told him she was still sleeping. For the first 10 minutes, two TV anchors related some local news stories as well as a few from around Kansas and the country. There was nothing mentioned about a mysterious cabin fire outside Colorado Springs and the body of a dead man found inside, not that he had expected there to be.

“And now it’s time for the weather forecast with Holman Hardt,” spoke the anchorwoman.

Mulder smiled, pleasant butterflies filling his stomach. And then there he was on the screen, that shy, sweet man he fondly remembered. Quickly calculating in his head, he guessed that Holman was about 42 years of age now. He was dressed in a gray suit with a burgundy sweater vest, and he was smiling.

“I can't imagine a more beautiful day than today,” spoke Holman. “The snow is finally long gone. We have about a 70% chance of rain showers later this evening which should make all of our farming friends real happy. Spring is here, and the weather is lovely.”

Out of curiosity, he moved to the motel room window and peeked behind the curtain. The sky was a perfect shade of blue. Puffy, white cumulus clouds that looked like cotton dotted the sky. The sun was shining. The grass was green, as were the stems of spring flowers that he noticed were starting to come up through the mulch that was laid in flower beds in front of the motel rooms. Driving from Colorado the night before, all he’d seen was snow, the same late winter blizzard having struck Kansas as well. In the middle of the night, his tired mind hadn’t given much thought to the sudden absence of snow once they’d crossed into Marshall County.

The friendly weatherman stood in front of the TV studio’s green screen, showing the forecast for the rest of the week. The days would be sunny and pleasant, while the nights would be cool and rainy. It was like a picture perfect springtime. Knowing the reason for it, Mulder smiled. Holman was happy.

*****

Scully awoke lying on her right side, seemingly the only part of her body that didn’t hurt too much. She turned her head to see Mulder sitting hunched over the motel room desk, reading and eating sunflower seeds. She yawned and sat up quickly, wincing. Pain. She ached all over. Taking deep, steadying breaths, she moved her legs over the edge of the bed.

“Are you all right?”

She turned to see that he had stood up. His eyes were wide, filled with worry. They roamed over her face and he blanched. She had yet to look in a mirror, or even down at her own body since The Cabin. The night before, she’d allowed him to look her over, but she didn’t want to see and had only given a quick glimpse over herself, noticing some bruising that was forming along her left thigh. She’d seen enough just by watching the expression on his face. He’d helped her dress for bed, which had made her feel slightly ridiculous. But she hadn’t protested, knowing that he’d needed to find some small way to care for her.

Staring back at him now, she wondered just how bad she really looked. Scully stood up from the bed, trying hard not to wince or show any other signs of pain. “I’m fine. I think I want to take a hot bath.”

“Good. Stay there and I’ll go run it for you.”

“No. Mulder, that’s okay. I can do it.”

He sighed, placing his hands at his hips. She averted her eyes from his frustrated posture and walked towards her suitcase. The guilt in his eyes made her feel uncomfortable. Grabbing a clean set of clothes and her toiletry bag, she moved as quickly as possible to the bathroom, disappearing behind the door and away from his concerned gaze. She heaved a sigh, as if in relief, before flipping the light switch.

The sink was right in front of her as well as the large mirror overhead. Nasty purple bruises had formed on her forehead and jaw. Raw, red scrapes marked her cheek. Scully closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Unbuttoning her mauve satin pajama top, it was removed and tossed to the floor. The matching pajama bottoms soon joined it. She looked into the mirror and her mouth fell open. The last time she’d had bruising this extensive had been two years earlier, when she’d fought Donnie Pfaster inside her apartment. She looked down at her right hand. Her knuckles were badly bruised. At least she didn’t have any broken bones from her attack in the cabin, but she’d done more damage than she’d originally thought in her adrenaline-enhanced efforts to save her own life.

She turned sideways to get a better look at the bruising, wincing at the pain caused by her contorted posture as she twisted to look in the mirror. Purple contusions went all down her left side, covered her hip, and continued down the outside of her thigh. A memory flashed of when she’d fallen hard to the wood floor when her attacker had grabbed her ankle as she’d tried to run for her weapon. Very carefully she pressed her fingers down against her chest and with a sigh of relief determined that her ribs weren't cracked, nothing serious. There was just a little more bruising and it hurt a bit to breathe too deeply.

Scully stepped over to the tub shower and turned the hot water on, plugging the drain as to draw up a bath. She then returned to the mirror and wondered at what Mulder would say, how he’d react to seeing just how badly she looked now. She could tell that her bruises were much darker than they’d been the night before. She didn’t want him to see it. She couldn’t keep telling him she was fine if she looked like this. She’d have to keep herself covered, she’d have to dress and undress out of his sight. She couldn’t bear to see that dark look come over his face, the punishing guilt that would inevitably surface.

But she wasn’t sure if she was truly fine, physically or in any other way. Emotionally, she didn’t know where she was or how to deal with what had happened to her, or with what could have happened to her, and to Mulder. She didn’t know how she felt about anything. She only felt numb. She didn’t want him to know that either. There was nothing he could do about it, and it would only add to his tendency to wallow in self-loathing. Reaching into her toiletry bag, she pulled out the bottle of over-the-counter pain reliever and took three pills, swallowing them back with a cup of cold water.

After soaking her sore body in the tub until the hot bath became lukewarm, Scully gingerly stepped out. She pulled on a pair of black dress pants, she didn’t think she could take jeans right now, and put on her green sweater. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror and felt tears prick her eyes at the memory of that man’s face hovering above her, the cold, sinister look in his eyes. That small voice in the back of her head scolded her and the walls came up, preventing her from thinking too much, from feeling too much.

*****

For the next week, they stuck to their motel room. They’d made the mistake of heading out on that first Saturday afternoon to get a bite to eat at a local diner and by the end of their meal, Mulder finally caught on to all the dirty looks he was getting from the other customers as well as the wait staff. They all believed he was the cause of Scully’s injuries, those bruises and scrapes on her face.

As he’d stood at the counter paying their bill, the woman at the cash register handed him his change, saying, “We don’t wanna see you in here again.” She’d then turned to Scully and said, “Get some help, sweetie, before you end up six feet under.” Not knowing what to say, she only hurried out the door. With a sigh, he’d silently followed after her. He wasn’t about to defend himself to that woman. Technically, he hadn’t done that to Scully’s face. He hadn’t been the reason she was hurt, but he certainly felt that he was. It was his fault. He was to blame.

On Sunday, March 31st, he finally got the courage to take Holman up on his invitation. Along with the photographs he’d sent, there had been a small note asking Mulder to look him and Sheila up if he was ever in Kansas again. Holman had also made a point of telling him that he was to bring Scully with him. He’d considered it over and over all week long, debating the risks. The last thing he wanted was to put the Hardts in danger. But he’d reasoned that the chances the government suspected that he and Scully would wind up in Kroner, Kansas were slim to none. So eventually he talked himself into taking Holman up on his offer.

To his slight disappointment, Scully hadn’t seemed decisive either way, allowing him to make the decision without much of her input. She was growing quieter, shutting him out. They shared a motel room, but she rarely spoke. They shared a bed, but she kept herself out of arm’s reach. He kept hoping she’d put her walls down and let him in; that she’d open up and talk to him once she’d processed whatever she was feeling. He kept waiting, and waiting.

Scully slipped her feet into her black leather ankle boots as Mulder stood in the bathroom brushing his teeth. There was suddenly a knock on the motel room door, and she froze, staring at it. Another knock.

“Mrs. Petrie?”

She stared at the door, not expecting to hear that name. Truthfully, she’d had no idea what names Mulder had written down in the registration book when they’d checked in. She hadn’t been paying much attention then anyways. She moved forward, unlocking and opening the door. The manager was there, wearing a floral-patterned dress.

“Yes?”

“I believe _your husband_ had called the office earlier, requesting Holman and Sheila Hardt’s telephone number? He left a message on the answering machine. I just got back from church.”

She blinked, noticing the acerbic tone in the way the woman had referred to Mulder as her husband. “Um, yeah. Do you have it?”

The manager handed her a piece of paper, said good afternoon, and then departed just as suddenly as she’d arrived. Scully sighed, shutting the door. The scrapes had mostly healed as well as the bruises, but not the memory of them to the people who’d seen her visible injuries in their early stages.

Mulder stepped out of the bathroom and came towards her. She handed him the paper without a word and sat on the edge of the bed. He watched her for a moment and then sat down at the desk, picking up the telephone receiver. He took a deep breath and then dialed the phone number. After three rings, the line picked up.

“Hello?”

It was a woman’s voice, and a familiar one. He suddenly felt embarrassed. “Um, hi. Sheila? It’s Fox Mulder.”

She gasped into the phone. “Oh, my gosh! Agent Mulder! I can’t believe this!” She pulled the phone away from her mouth and he heard her call for Holman. “I never expected to hear from you. I mean, we hoped we would sometime. But we sent you a wedding invitation. We sent you an invitation to the baby shower. And nothing.”

He sighed. “I know, Sheila. I feel bad about that. It was very kind of you. But we just had a lot going on around that time.”

“We?” she asked, pausing. “Oh! Oh my! Agent Scully! Is she there with you? I’d love to talk to her. The last time ya’ll were here, she said something to me that was so… Well, I just want to thank her. Is she there?”

Mulder looked over at where she was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. Some company other than him might not be such a bad idea. He pushed aside whatever concerns he might’ve had about endangering the Hardts. “Actually, Sheila, we’re both here in Kroner, and we’d love to see you and Holman.”

She laughed in disbelief into the phone, and called out once again for her husband before speaking again into the receiver. “Oh, my gosh! You’ll come over for dinner, won’t you? How about 4:00? Holman has the whole day off and we’d love to see you. We talk about you all the time. Do you have our address?”

He assured her that he did. She gave him some directions and then hung up the phone. Almost three hours later, he inserted his wallet into the back pocket of his blue jeans and grabbed the keys to the Jeep as well as the Nokia phone. Scully quietly turned the television off and got up from the bed, walking out the door, and Mulder followed after her, closing the door behind him.

Fifteen minutes later, they were walking up the path from the driveway to the Hardts’ front door. They lived in a rural area, just outside the town limits. Holman and Sheila walked out the door, all smiles, before Mulder and Scully had even reached the front porch. They stared. Holman was in brown Dockers and a plaid button down shirt. Sheila wore a blue dress with small white polka dots. She was visibly pregnant.

“Agents Mulder and Scully!” she said excitedly, clasping her hands in front of her.

He smiled. “We’re not agents anymore, Sheila,” he replied. “I’m just plain Mulder.”

Holman was staring at Scully. She looked very different. He also noticed the fading bruise along her jaw. He wondered if they were that married couple he’d heard some people talking about. He thought he’d heard mention of them staying at the Motor Court.

“Um… Scully?” said Sheila questioningly, glancing at her husband. She noticed the healing scratches on her face, the yellowing bruises.

She snorted. “You can call me Dana.”

Sheila smiled. “Well, it’s nice to have you here, Dana. Come on in.” She wrapped her arm around Scully’s shoulder and led her into the house. She then leaned in her ear as they crossed the threshold. “I guess that switch of yours finally flicked, huh? And I love what you did with your hair. Does, uh, Mulder prefer blondes after all?”

She stared at her, eyes widening, and Sheila burst into giggles. “I’m just kiddin’ with ya.” She sighed. “Gosh, how silly I was.” She kept giggling.

Scully tried to fight a smirk, but failed, and her mouth curved into a smile.

Outside, Mulder shook hands with Holman as he walked up the steps onto the porch. “It’s good to see you.”

He smiled. “So what brings you to Kroner? Did you really come all this way from Washington, DC just to see us?”

“We’re in trouble,” answered Mulder honestly. He’d played around with the idea of making up a story, of keeping Holman and Sheila in the dark, in hopes their ignorance would protect them. But in the end he’d decided against it. Ignorance got people killed. The truth was always best. “We could be putting your family in danger just by being here. I need you to know that. We’ll turn around and leave, if you say so.”

Holman considered him a moment. “‘A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.’ Proverbs. You helped me once, for which I’m forever grateful. So how could I turn you away when you’re in times of trouble yourself?” He opened the front door, allowing Mulder to enter the house first.

Soon they were all seated in the living room. A pitcher of iced tea and four glasses had been placed on the coffee table. Mulder and Scully were given the sofa while Holman and Sheila sat in the two cushioned armchairs stationed at each end of the couch.

“So… when did you two get married?” Sheila asked.

Holman looked from his wife to the former FBI agents, who shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “We’re not married,” Mulder stated matter-of-factly. “I’m guessing you’ve heard the talk around town? And imagine me to be some abusive husband?”

“Of course not,” replied Holman. “We’d heard talk of a couple staying in town, certainly. But never in a million years did we assume they meant the two of you. You showin’ up here is the biggest surprise we could’ve ever imagined.”

Sheila nodded in agreement. Glancing around the room, Scully took in the pictures on the mantle over the fireplace. Holman and Sheila’s wedding. Holman and Sheila holding a newborn baby wrapped in a blue blanket. Other pictures of that same baby boy, growing older in each photo. As if on cue, loud cries could be heard coming from a room upstairs.

“Ooh, Jimmy’s woken up from his nap,” Holman said, moving to stand up from the chair. Sheila smiled as he made his way out of the living room.

“How old is your son now?” Mulder asked her.

Scully shot a quick glance at him before looking away, her stomach knotting. She fervently tried to push back the sadness suddenly threatening to overwhelm her.

Sheila smiled. “He’ll be three in August. How time flies! And now we’ve got another one on the way, due on June 30th. It’s a girl. If she turns out anything like me, I’ll be getting that payback for what I put my poor mother through.” She chuckled. “I never thought I’d be having a baby at 42, but there you go. God works in mysterious ways.”

Neither Mulder nor Scully knew what to say to that. Silence filled the room. Sheila looked between them, her heart sinking. Something was very wrong with those two.

“Congratulations,” Scully eventually replied, trying to put some genuine feeling into her words. “You and Holman must be very happy.”

Before Sheila could reply, Holman reentered the room, holding the hand of his son. A toddler with curly, dirty blonde hair and blue eyes joined them. He looked at Mulder and Scully, these strangers, and hugged the leg of his father.

“This is Jimmy,” said Holman, patting his son on the head. “Jimmy, say hello.”

The little boy gave them a shy smile. “Hello,” he said in a small voice.

Mulder smiled. “Hi.”

Again, silence filled the living room. He turned to look at Scully, who was watching the boy, not saying a word. He saw something in her eyes that for years he’d hoped to never see: regret. She noticed him looking at her, and turned, working to avoid his eyes.

“So how’s life with a toddler?” she asked Sheila, trying hard to make pleasant conversation.

“He’s potty training right now, so it’s kind of difficult,” Holman answered.

Sheila stared at him, before looking at her guest. “It’s a nightmare.”

Mulder chuckled. Scully gave a halfhearted smile. Silence once again filled the living room. Holman and Sheila exchanged worried glances.

*****

During the roast chicken dinner Sheila had prepared, she and Holman regaled Mulder and Scully all about their wedding, just three months following the Kroner High School Reunion, and the surprise of learning about their “honeymoon baby.” They spoke about their jobs at the TV station, their families and the people in town, including Daryl and Cindy, who were now married with a baby on the way. They asked after Mulder and Scully’s work at the FBI, curious about the strange nature of their former investigations. They discussed a few cases they’d had since leaving Kroner behind in August 1998, but didn’t go into detail about recent events.

It soon became evident that Holman and Sheila’s little boy was absolutely taken by Mulder. He pulled his Mr. Potato Head face and the toddler erupted in laughter. He grinned at Scully, who gave him a half smile and averted her eyes. Seeing him interact with Jimmy knotted her stomach, knowing she’d taken Mulder’s chance at fatherhood away from him, without his consent, without even his knowledge. With a saddened gaze he looked at her, before checking himself and once again engaging in conversation with the Hardts.

For dessert, Sheila dished up sweet potato pie, and Mulder praised her for the extra brown sugar and cinnamon she’d put in her recipe. She positively beamed at his compliment. Scully exchanged a smirk with Holman. After the meal was finished, they stood up from the table, carrying their dishes, despite Sheila’s protests that she’d do the cleaning up.

“Oh, Sheila,” said Scully. “Mulder is great in the kitchen. He’d love to help you wash the dishes.”

She beamed again, and turned to walk out of the dining room. He stared after her, before looking down at Scully. “Don’t say I never did nothin’ fer ya,” she muttered under her breath, in an imitation of something he’d once said to her many years ago, and dropped her plate atop of his that he held in his hands. He gave her a deadpan stare. Then with a sigh, he walked into the kitchen.

“Daddy, I wanna play outside,” said Jimmy, grabbing hold of Holman’s hand.

He smiled down at his son, and then looked up at Scully. “Would you like to join us outside, Dana? While Mulder and Sheila clean up?” He grinned.

She licked her lips, nodding. “Sure.”

Inside the kitchen, Mulder stood in front of the sink looking out the window into the Hardts’ back yard. There was a swing set, and Holman was pushing his son in a swing while Scully stood by and watched. Sheila dried the clean dishes with a towel as Mulder handed them over to her. They stood in silence for some minutes, washing and drying.

“I’m glad you and Holman are so happy, Sheila. It makes me happy to see something good come out of… our work. It’s the kind of happy ending we rarely ever saw.”

“You know, it’s really because of Agent Scully, I’m sorry… Dana, that this all worked out. Did she ever tell you what she said to me in that bathroom at the reunion?”

He shook his head. “I know… she talked to you about Holman.”

She hummed, nodding. “I thought so at first, but then the more I think about it, I think she was talking about herself.”

Mulder looked down at her, handing her another clean plate to dry, his eyebrows raised curiously.

“Well, she said that the best relationships – the ones that last – are the ones that are rooted in friendship. That one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did before. Like a switch was flicked. And the person who was just a friend is suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself being with. It changed my life. It made me see Holman for who he truly is, and how I really felt about him. He’d been my closest friend since high school, and I’d been so blind for so long.”

He smiled, and looked out the window again. Jimmy Hardt was now going down a slide, Holman and Scully clapping.

Sheila eyed him. “Do you think she’s right? About relationships that last?”

“She usually is about a great many things.” He sighed, smiling. “I know that I’ve never had a relationship that lasted nearly this long, and she’s the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“So… do you two ever think about getting married and having kids of your own?” she asking, smirking at him.

His mouth went dry, and he was forced to swallow. “Um… no. Scully is unable to have children.”

She gasped and her face fell. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Oh, no. And here I’ve been talkin’ nonstop about Jimmy and the new baby. No wonder Dana looked so down in the dumps. How stupid of me. I feel terrible.”

Mulder placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s got nothing to do with you, Sheila. Trust me.”

It then started to rain, and Holman grabbed hold of his son, running inside the house along with Scully. Soon they were all back in the living room. Jimmy brought out some of his toys and coaxed Mulder down onto the floor with him to play. Scully watched him laugh and entertain Holman’s son, acutely aware of all that her partner had lost out on, all that she’d taken away from him with the choice she had made. William was still a subject that went unspoken between them. She only ever saw glimpses of Mulder’s pain, his anger, before he swiftly suppressed it. Her fears about this only grew, but she was unable to voice them.

“Would anyone like some hot tea or coffee?” Holman asked the room.

Both women opted for chamomile tea, while Mulder had said that coffee sounded good. As Holman turned to walk towards the kitchen, he followed him, offering his assistance. Filling the black kettle with water, Mulder placed it on the stove, turning the burner on high, while Holman started to make a pot of coffee.

He looked at Holman and gave him a little smile. “I said this to Sheila earlier, but seeing you two makes me happy. I wish you nothing but luck with your son, and the new baby, and any babies that come later.” That date flashed in the front of his mind, sickening him, and he quickly forced it away.

“I think this is it,” he replied, chuckling. “Me and Sheila aren’t spring chickens anymore.”

Smiling, Mulder nodded. “I know how that is.”

He returned the smile. “Just so you know, I think you’d be a great dad.”

Mulder stared at him, a lump growing in his throat. He couldn’t speak. How could he confess to Holman just how terrible of a father he’d been? The horrible mistakes he’d made? Just how much of a failure he truly was?

He turned, leaning against the counter. “So what kind of trouble are you in?”

“I’m a criminal, wanted by the government on trumped up charges,” replied Mulder. “They’ve tried to kill me, they’ve tried to kill Scully.” He sighed. “All that talk around town? About those bruises on her face? A government assassin attacked her in Colorado. That’s where we just came from.”

Holman stared at him, wide eyed. “Oh my goodness. But… why?”

He shook his head. “There’s a dark underbelly almost everywhere, and nowhere greater than within the federal government. Our work was a threat to them. Our very lives became a threat. Our son was a threat. They’re hell bent on destroying us. That’s what I meant by your family possibly being in danger just because we are here.”

“Do you think they’d know you’re in Kroner?”

“No.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded his head slowly, staring down at the floor, satisfied with Mulder’s confident reply. He then looked at the former FBI agent. “You have a son?”

He crossed his arms in front of him, his hand reflexively going to his mouth, his fingers brushing up and down over his bottom lip. He finally answered. “I did.” Realistically, he knew there was no chance that he'd ever see William again. But underneath the despair, there was hope his son may come back. He tried to keep it buried, but that hope still glowed, refusing to be vanquished, like the last remaining ember that kept burning long after the fire had died out.

Holman took in what Mulder had said, noting his use of past tense. Everything was starting to become clear. The long uncomfortable silences in the living room earlier, when Jimmy had joined them. The empty look in Dana Scully’s eyes and how she could never meet theirs for very long before looking away. Mulder’s sad gazes in her direction. He closed his eyes, hanging his head. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “You’ve suffered a great deal, I can see that.”

“Scully’s the one who’s suffered,” he said, guilt sitting in his stomach like a rock.

Holman considered him for a moment as the kettle starting whistling, and then turned to pour hot coffee into two mugs. Mulder poured the tea as well. Crossing the kitchen, Holman handed him his mug of black coffee. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to. Seems like the both of you could use some friends right now. You can move out of that motel room and stay here. If the government’s truly lookin’ for you, they’re bound to check all motels and hotels, temporary residences. I doubt they’d turn up on our front porch.”

He felt that lump in the back of his throat harden. Tears pricked his eyes over Holman’s kindness and generosity. “I couldn’t risk your family’s safety. But thank you. It’s a very generous offer.”

“I want to help you in some way,” Holman said, his brows furrowed.

“I don’t think anyone can really help me,” replied Mulder sadly.

After drinking tea and coffee in the living room, Mulder and Scully thanked Holman and Sheila for their invitation. The Hardts made them promise to visit often while they were in town. As they drove away from the house, Holman looked on with a heavy heart. That week marked the first time in over two and a half years that Holman Hardt’s weather forecast had been abysmally inaccurate. He’d declared perfect weather all week. But every day for the next five days it was overcast, and stormy, full of rain and fog.


	133. “I just think you bottle up your emotions – anger, grief, or love or whatever...  And whatever it is, you got to let it out.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully spend a little more time with Holman and Sheila before they depart Kroner. They address some things that have gone unspoken.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping At Last - "West"
> 
> Maps stretched out  
> Too many miles to count  
> Let’s just say we’re inches apart  
> And even closer at heart  
> And we’ll be just fine
> 
> Another pin pushed in  
> To remind us where we’ve been  
> And every mile adds up  
> And leaves a mark on us  
> And sometimes our compass breaks  
> And our steady true north fades  
> We’ll be just fine
> 
> We’ll be just fine  
> We’ll be just fine  
> We’ll be just fine  
> I know that we will  
> I just know we will
> 
> Time moves slow  
> When half of your heart has yet to come home  
> Every minute’s adding up  
> And leaving a mark on us  
> I can’t get you out of my mind  
> I can’t get you out of my mind  
> I can’t get you out of my mind  
> I solemnly swear  
> I swear that I’ll never try
> 
> We’ll be just fine  
> We’ll be just fine  
> We’ll be just fine  
> I know that we will
> 
> We’ll be just fine  
> We’ll be just fine  
> It’s a matter of time  
> 'Til our compass stands still  
> 'Til our compass stands still

On Saturday, April 6th, the weather cleared up and the sun was once again shining brightly. Big white clouds dotted a perfect blue sky. Tulips, crocuses, and daffodils were starting to push their way up from the ground. It felt like a relief to Mulder, who knew that there probably wasn’t much that could keep Holman down for long if he was surrounded by his loving family. The new forecast predicted perfect spring weather for the next week, and Holman was rather confident when stating so.

Just before 10:00 am, Mulder and Scully left their motel room and drove an hour and 45 minutes to the city of Topeka, southeast of Kroner, where they picked up a few items they needed, including a brand new laptop. After their shopping was finished, they stopped at Blue Moose BBQ to grab something to eat. They sat on the outdoor patio at a table underneath an umbrella and both ordered the restaurant’s pulled pork lunch special. While they waited for their meal, Mulder reached down to one of their bags, grabbing the local daily newspaper he’d picked up, _The Topeka Capital-Journal,_ and began to look it over. He skipped over the local news stories, and went straight to the pages devoted to state and national news items. His eyes fell on a blurb of interest.

“There’s a write up in here on the Kansas Academy of Science meeting on Friday.”

“I guess we’ll be leaving Kroner soon, then,” she said.

Mulder lowered the paper and looked at her, running his fingers through the beard that covered his jaw. “I don’t think we should move directly to Hays. I don’t wanna be hanging around there all week. It might raise suspicions. I think most people who attend this thing just come for the day, or maybe the weekend at most. I don’t think they hang around in town for a week beforehand.”

Scully nodded, picking up her glass of ice water. “The longer we stay in Kroner, the more risk there is for the people there.”

“I know. We should leave tomorrow. Salina is more than half way to Hays. We can find a place to stay for a few days and prepare.”

“How much preparation is required, Mulder?” The more she thought about entering a large banquet room of scientists and academic professionals, the more nervous she became. “I thought you just wanted to hear this professor’s presentation?”

Their waiter then approached the table, carrying two small platters of barbecue pulled pork, Cole slaw, and cornbread. Mulder folded up the newspaper and set it aside. The waiter asked them if they needed anything else and Scully shook her head, thanking him, before he walked away from the table.

“I do want to hear the magnetite presentation, Scully. I know it seems simple enough, but we can’t be too careful. We’ll be attending under false names. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never been to Fort Hays State University. We should learn the layout, in case something should happen that requires us to leave quickly or we’re forced to exit in a different way than which we came in.”

Nerves filled her stomach. “Do you really think us going will serve some useful purpose?”

He stared at her a moment, and then picked up his fork, spearing a piece of the barbecued pork. “I wouldn’t want to go if I didn’t, Scully.”

She had no reply, and started eating in silence. Their conversation had once again become stilted; something that was becoming more common since they’d arrived in Kroner after The Cabin. It felt like there were weighty matters between them, things they were not speaking of, so that conversations about other topics soon disintegrated into nothing. They ate quietly for the next few minutes, not talking and avoiding eye contact. Fear held them back, and kept them silent.

Scully then latched onto something he had said. “You want to leave tomorrow? Holman and Sheila invited us over for dinner again tomorrow.”

He nodded, picking up his glass of root beer, taking a drink before answering. “We’ll pack up tonight, or tomorrow morning. We’ll leave town after we see them.”

“All right.”

They finished the rest of their lunch mostly in silence. By late afternoon they were back in Kroner. Mulder spent the evening hunched over the desk, setting up his new laptop. Scully read through the _Capital-Journal_ as well as _The New York Times_ he had gotten. Later that night, she showered and got ready for bed. Her bruising was all but gone, and she no longer felt any soreness. She dressed in her blue pajamas, buttoning up the satin top. She then stared at the door, hesitating to leave the bathroom.

In her mind, the bruising and soreness had been good enough reasons for her to avoid any requests for intimacy from Mulder. Even though she knew he wanted and needed their physical connection, he hadn’t yet made any direct overtures, taking cues from her body language. She usually kept herself close to the edge of the bed and with her back to him. For a while, she had merely told herself this was because her right side didn’t hurt, and now she was completely healed.

But she felt their emotional connection was strained. If he were to make such a request, she didn’t want to reject him. She also had no desire to give in when her heart wasn’t in it, for their passion to become just as stilted and unenthusiastic as their conversations lately. A memory stirred. New Year’s Eve. Mulder with a bandaged arm, having been attacked by zombies. That was the first and last time she’d had sex with him when her heart hadn’t really been in it. He hadn’t been satisfied with it either. He didn’t want her body when her mind was elsewhere. He wanted her to be fully there, present, her body and her mind connected with his.

Scully opened the bathroom door and saw that Mulder was still sitting at the desk, hunched over the new laptop. She glanced at the digital clock; it was almost 10:00 pm. She still felt fairly awake, and knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep for quite some time. She quietly crossed the room and got in bed, lying down on her back, and gazed at the television. _America’s Most Wanted_ was going off the air.

“So were you finally on the show tonight?” she asked, fighting a smirk.

He turned from the desk, grinning at her. He licked his lips. “You tired?”

She reached for the lamp on the bedside table next to her, turning it off. “Yeah.”

*****

On Sunday afternoon, Mulder and Scully drove out to Holman and Sheila’s house. It was a beautiful day, and they ended up grilling chicken and sausage in the back yard. Jimmy ran around his playset, swinging and going down the slide. Sheila served them iced tea and lemonade while Holman worked the grill. They all ate together on the picnic table outside. Soon the sun started to set, painting the sky above the plains with streaks of pink and purple.

The two women carried the dirty dishes inside to the kitchen. Once the picnic table had been cleared, they stood in front of the sink, washing and drying. Sheila handed Scully a clean dinner plate, who then rubbed it dry with a clean towel before setting it down in the dish rack on the counter.

“I know that we really don’t know each other very well,” Sheila started to say, and then paused. “So please feel free to put me in my place. But… I am so sorry for what you’ve been through.” She shook her head sadly.

Scully looked at her questioningly. Nothing they'd talked about that afternoon would have brought on this statement.

A slightly embarrassed expression came over Sheila’s face. “Holman told me about what Mulder had said to him. I can’t imagine losing a child. It’s the kind of thing no one should ever have to go through.” She thought back on Scully’s demeanor since her return to Kroner. “Did it… happen recently?”

“Last September,” she answered, her voice just above a whisper. Mulder talked about William to Holman? When he would've even talk about their son with her? She felt tears begin to threaten and blinked, fighting them back. 

“How old was he?” asked Sheila gently, handing her another clean plate.

Scully took the dish and averted her eyes. “Just about eight months.”

Exhaling sharply, Sheila could only shake her head sadly. “How tragic.”

It dawned on Scully that the Hardts may actually think that her son was dead. She wondered what exactly had been said to Holman. The thought of telling this doting wife and mother that she’d given up her son made her stomach twist into knots. She quickly decided not to enlighten her.

“At least you and Mulder had each other at that time,” Sheila said consolingly. “It’s a real comfort to have someone who loves you by your side to support you through difficult times.”

Scully swallowed and nodded her head, but she couldn’t find the words to say in reply.

Sheila eyed her while rinsing a glass clean. “You know, I can never thank you enough for what you did for me. If it weren’t for you opening up and sharing your feelings with me, about love and friendship, I might never have had my perfect family. I’m happier than I ever could’ve imagined, and it’s because of you. And Mulder, of course. Now I’ve got my best friend by my side for the rest of my life. And no matter what trials may come, I know he’ll be there, he’ll stand by me. I won’t ever have to hide how I’m feeling or be afraid to speak my mind, because I know he loves me. And no matter how bad things might get, we’ll always have each other, through thick and thin. I think that’s what you meant about relationships that last. Because if your best friend is the one you love, you won’t ever be lonely. Even at the worst of times, you’ll always have your friendship to get you through.”

She handed Scully the clean glass, dripping with water, and saw that the former FBI agent’s eyes were filling with tears. Sheila gave her a sympathetic look and placed a calming hand on her back as Scully took the glass, drying it silently, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. Soon all the plates, silverware, and glasses were set down to fully dry on the counter. It was starting to get dark outside as Holman walked through the back door, followed by Jimmy and Mulder.

“We should get on the road soon,” he said to Scully.

She nodded and they followed Holman and Sheila to the living room, where they grabbed their jackets from the coat rack by the front door. The two men shook hands.

“Send us a postcard sometime, from wherever you are,” said Holman. “We’d like to know if the two of you are okay.”

Mulder nodded. “We’ll try to, as much as we can.” He then turned to Holman’s wife. “Thank you for everything, for generously opening your home to us.”

She blushed slightly. “It was nothing.”

“No, it meant a lot,” he corrected her, shaking his head. “You have no idea just how much.”

Holman and Jimmy followed Mulder out the front door to the porch while Scully lingered behind with Sheila in the living room. Mulder patted Jimmy’s head and shook Holman’s hand again. “Take care of your family,” he said. “It’s the most precious thing you’ll ever have.”

Holman glanced through the glass door at the two women standing on the other side of it, and then turned back to Mulder. “You do the same.”

“He’s right,” Scully said to her inside the house. “It meant so much to us to see some friendly faces, to know that you and Holman are doing so well.”

Sheila smiled and wrapped her arm around Scully’s shoulders companionably, turning her towards the door. “It takes some of us a long time to flick that switch, Dana. And once it’s been flicked, we don’t want it to dim, to go out. We want it to burn brightly for a long, long time. Don’t we?” She glanced pointedly through the glass storm door, to where her husband stood with Scully’s partner, before turning to look directly at her.

She took in what Sheila said and gazed at Mulder, and then looked look at her. “Thank you. And good luck with everything.”

“You’ll both be in my prayers.”

Scully nodded and opened the door, stepping out onto the porch. She followed Mulder to the Jeep, getting into the passenger seat. Holman and Sheila, along with their son Jimmy, waved them goodbye. Mulder and Scully smiled, both fervently hoping that this family’s happiness would remain untouched, that one of the few good things that had come out of their work would be able to hang onto their happy ending for as long as possible.

An hour and fifteen minutes after driving south from Kroner, Mulder and Scully arrived in Junction City, where they merged onto highway I-70 and drove west for another 50 minutes until they reached the city of Salina. They went in search of accommodation, driving past motel after motel. He often glanced over at his partner, at the dull expression that came over her face whenever they approached yet another cheap, rundown motel. He felt his heart sinking, wishing he could give her so much more than this life they were stuck with.

Mulder’s eyes then fell on a Candlewood Suites. The property looked to be in excellent condition. He pulled into the parking lot, driving up in front of the entrance doors. She looked at the sign.

“Suites?” asked Scully, raising an eyebrow.

He smiled. “A little change would be nice. Don’t you think?”

She gave him a half smile in return and he slid out of the front seat, heading into the hotel lobby. At the front desk, Mulder asked for a quiet room that didn’t face the highway bypass, and was given keys to room 328. After returning to the carport out front, he helped Scully unload their bags from the Jeep and onto a luggage cart. He then parked their vehicle and changed the license plates, before joining her in the lobby. They took the elevator to the third floor and walked down the long hallway to their room.

“I got us a one bedroom suite,” said Mulder, unlocking the door, holding it open.

Scully stepped inside and flipped the light switches. She was greeted by a spacious kitchen to the right, complete with a full size refrigerator, stovetop, oven, microwave, dishwasher, and plenty of counter space. She walked towards it, and began to open the cabinets and drawers, finding pots, pans, utensils, plates, and glasses. She turned around from the counter and looked into the living room. Between the two rooms was a circular dining table with four chairs. Just behind it in the living area was a large desk, flat screen television, couch, and cushioned armchair. She walked into the living room, and glancing to her left, noticed an open doorway that led into the bedroom.

Mulder dropped the last of their suitcases on the floor in front of closet to the left of the door, leaving the luggage cart out in the hall. After shutting and locking the door, he walked to the bathroom on the left, next to the closet, and stepped inside, flipping the light switch. He set his and Scully’s toiletry bags on the sink. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, running his hand through the dark facial hair that covered his chin. Once he’d emptied his bladder, he walked back out to the room, picking up a couple suitcases and carrying them into the bedroom.

Scully walked over and took her bag from Mulder’s hand. “I think I’m going to take a shower.”

He nodded silently, and after she grabbed some pajamas from the bag, she disappeared from the room. She stood under the shower for some long minutes. The hot spray soothed her muscles, stiff from sitting in the Jeep for two hours. Everything Sheila Hardt had said ran in circles in her mind. The water mixed with her tears, hiding her fear and her grief. If only she could hide it from Mulder, or even herself.

After a while she left the bathroom, dressed in her mauve satin pajamas. He was in the living room, hunched over the desk. He’d stationed his laptop there along with a stack of old case files, some magazines, and newspapers. She quietly walked into the bedroom and laid down on the right side of the queen-sized bed. She wondered when he would come to bed, and if she’d have the courage to speak when he did so. She lay awake for some time, waiting for him to join her. But when he finally did, her stomach tightened with fear, and she turned away from him, reaching for the lamp on her bedside table and turning out the light.

*****

Scully watched Mulder open his eyes, awakening. He looked at her, his eyes roaming over her face. He smiled. “Hey,” he whispered.

“Hi.” She swallowed. She’d woken up a while ago, her thoughts slowly tormenting her. She wanted to speak, to discuss the things that they were continually avoiding. She was fervently willing herself to find the strength to voice her fears, to open the door that would only lead to a very painful conversation.

He immediately knew something was wrong. Sleep always granted him forgiveness. When unconscious, his heart could no longer condemn him. When asleep, his mind and body gave no considerations to his guilt, his failure. His dreams were always pleasant, filled with that beach and the two people he loved most in the world. Decent sleep had always eluded him, until she invited him to sleep beside her. She gave him the comfort, the peace of mind that finally allowed him to rest. Her body, even when he had succumbed to unconsciousness, was always warm and distinguished as it laid next him. Whether he was awake or asleep, her presence was powerfully real to him. Sometimes he couldn’t believe he’d survived a year without her, and in his heart he knew that the only reason he did was because of the kind and compassionate acts of others.

“How long have you been awake?” he asked apprehensively.

She licked her lips. “An hour, maybe. Not sure.”

The morning light was beginning to peek out from behind the bedroom curtains. Mulder had no idea what time it was, but it must be around dawn. They locked eyes, each one searching the other’s face in a steady gaze.

“What have you been thinking about?”

She swallowed again. Her mind was in a panic, wondering how to start the conversation, and if she even should.

He saw it in her eyes. It was as clear as the blue looking back at him. He could feel it, sense it in the space between them. Her arms were tucked in front of her, as if creating a protective barrier to keep him out. Mulder felt as if the tight cord that bound their hearts together was straining under the unspoken regrets that lay between them. While he had enjoyed their visit with Holman and Sheila, despite its foolish nature, he was starting to wish they’d never gone. Every time he’d catch Scully’s eye when he interacted with Holman’s son, he’d seen it. Every time he’d watch her face when that little boy walked into the room, he’d seen it. Every time the boy laughed, cried, spoke, he’d seen it. She’d look away, trying to hide her eyes from him. But he’d seen it all the same. The regret. He could see it even now, and he knew he was the reason for it. The shards of his broken heart condemned him with each painful stab.

“You and me,” Scully finally answered. “Us.” Her eyes were full of sorrow. “Everything that we’ve lost. All we have left is each other.”

His mind fixated on her words, trying to find the meaning behind them. Maybe she regretted this life with him she’d chosen, no doubt wishing she hadn’t come with him, that the roadside near the Quantico Brig had been their last goodbye. She’d traded her last shred of freedom and any hopes for a normal life by joining him, becoming a fugitive herself. She’d been attacked, had nearly been killed, and he was to blame. But it was possible her regret ran deeper, went back farther in time than his prison escape, and it filled him with fear. Something deep inside his chest clutched at him and ached.

“I don’t want to lose you, too,” she continued, her voice choking with emotion.

He’d been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he almost hadn’t heard her. The knots of fear in his stomach began to loosen. Maybe it wasn’t regret after all. He moved closer to her, reaching out his hand and wrapping his fingers around hers. “You’re not gonna lose me, Scully.” She stared back at him quietly. The regret was still there. He furrowed his brows, trying to understand.

“Eventually I will. If you keep hiding the truth from me, I will. If you keep burying your real feelings, in an effort to protect yourself or me or our relationship, I will. If you keep bottling up the pain and anger you feel about William, about what I did… The resentment will become too much, and I'll lose you.”

Mulder finally understood. He clenched his jaw, hot tears pricked his eyes. His throat constricted, a hard lump suddenly growing. He couldn’t speak.

Her chin quivered and her bottom lip trembled, as tears filled her eyes and brimmed over, escaping. “I can see the anger that you won’t admit to,” she whispered tearfully. “I can see how hurt you are.”

“How can I be angry with you, Scully? You didn’t have a choice in…”

“Yes, I did, Mulder,” she said, cutting him off. “I had a choice. And I made it.” She started to cry. “But I made it without you. As his father, you had the right to have a say in his future. But I took that away from you. If I had just held on a few months longer, and waited for you to come home…”

He closed his eyes, but it was no use. He couldn’t fight the tears anymore. “I made choices, too. I was never coming home, Scully. The only reason I’m here with you now is because I was caught at Mount Weather. If that had never happened, if I had never been arrested, I don't know when you would’ve seen me again. I had decided that I was never going to come home. By the time I changed my mind, and started actively trying to figure out a way to return to you and our son, it was too late. He was already gone.” The confession tasted of bitterness, and his voice choked with emotion. “And that was my mistake. I should have come home. I should have been there with you. But even then I couldn’t have protected our son. No matter what I did. Neither could you. What if he'd been with us? What if that government agent hadn't attacked you in that cabin? What if he'd gone after our son? Hurt our son? Or took him from us? We never would've been able to live with ourselves. This is not the life I want for him.”

Scully only cried harder.

“It does hurt. I _am_ hurt. It hurts so much I can’t stand it. And I _am_ angry. I’m angry at myself. I’m angry at God, at fate, at _them._ I’m angry at my father, for the destruction of our family that I can't ever get away from. I’m angry at that cigarette smoking son of a bitch. I can sympathize with his actions, but I’m angry at Jeffrey Spender. And I’m angry at those proponents of a fate that means our son might not live past the age of 12.” His voice was angry, bitter, and thick with emotion. He then sighed, moving his hand to tenderly caress her tear-stained cheek as his own tears brimmed over, his voice softening. “But, Scully, I’m not angry at you. Certainly not for a decision you were forced to make alone because I wasn’t there to help you.”

She continued to cry, and reached out to touch Mulder’s face, wiping away the few tears that had rolled down his cheek.

He swallowed back the hard lump in his throat and forced himself to vocalize one of his deepest fears. “Do you regret having a child with me?”

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open as her breath caught.

“Do you regret that night in your apartment? When everything changed between us?”

She shook her head, fresh tears leaking from her eyes. “Never,” she managed to choke out.

He bit his bottom lip. “That night you said you wouldn’t trade me for even a dozen children. But William isn’t a dozen unknown, imaginary children. He’s your son. And I'm the reason he's gone.”

“He’s your son, too. And I wouldn’t change that for anything.”

His face crumpled and he began to cry outright. She slid closer, reaching for him. Their arms and legs entangled, and they held each other for some time. The anguish was palpable, painfully real between them. They clung to each other, seeking comfort in their misery.

Scully gave out a shuddering sob, trying to catch her breath. “I just miss my baby so much.”

“I know you do.” He leaned back, looking into her face. “We both do.”

“Why does it have to be this way, Mulder? Why would God give us a child and then take it away? Why couldn’t we have been the ones to care for him, to give him a happy and normal life?”

He didn’t have the answers to those questions. He wished he knew how to find the answers. Did God give them a child? He refused to believe the government had, or some alien force. William’s fate weighed heavily on his mind and when he thought of the future, he was unsure of how safe his son really was. He remembered his time in the desert with the Navajos, the cryptic things said to him, that book, and those end-of-the-world prophecies that certain people wanted to attribute to William. But he didn’t want to voice that aloud. All he wanted to do was try to comfort her as best he could.

“You did give him a happy and normal life, Scully. The choice you made… you had the courage to allow our son to have that life, a life he never could’ve had with us.”

She buried her face in his chest, holding him tighter. After a couple minutes she spoke. “Do you think we’ll be okay, Mulder?” she whispered. “Just the two of us?”

“We’ll be fine, Scully. You’ll see.” He believed what he said was true. He had no idea how he knew they would be all right. He just knew.

As their grief lulled them back to sleep, he silently wondered if it would get easier with time, or if it was even supposed to. Perhaps this was an irrevocable ache, a pain that would remain a tangible burden they would have to carry for the rest of their lives. But Mulder thought it might get easier in time. When they finally let go of any hopes of normalcy they might’ve had for their future. When they finally accepted the fact that by sending William away, that sacrifice had given their son a priceless gift. When they both finally found a way to forgive themselves. It might become easier. But until then, they found their forgiveness in their dreams. There was a beach. There was William. They were happy. They were free.

*****

On Wednesday evening, April 10th, Scully was busy in the suite’s kitchen, where she’d been for most of the afternoon. Cooking felt normal. It allowed her to imagine that their life was almost normal at times. The aromas filling the kitchen made her mouth water and her stomach grumble. She looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost 8:00 pm, and she hadn’t seen Mulder in an hour. He’d left the desk, where he had spent most of the day going over information on the Kansas Academy of Science, a map of the layout of Fort Hays State University, and the false identities they’d created, committing everything to his impeccable memory, and then disappeared into the bedroom. Shortly after she’d heard the shower turn on, and 10 minutes after that the water turned off. But that was about 45 minutes ago and he hadn’t reappeared. The bedroom door was still closed.

She opened the oven door, peeking inside at the beef brisket and the rosemary-roasted baby carrots and red potatoes, smiling at the wonderful smell. Scully then crossed over to the side table by the suite’s front door and grabbed the small silver bucket, before opening the closet and slipping into her black shoes. After making sure she had the room key in her front pocket, she opened the door and stepped out. The vending machine room was on the other end of the long hallway, just around the corner by the elevators.

When she reached the room, she opened the glass door and stepped inside, approaching the ice machine. As she pressed the button, ice immediately falling down into the bucket, the door opened and a man walked inside the room, heading for the Pepsi machine. He eyed her, the light blue jeans hugging her diminutive figure, the short white t-shirt clinging to her torso, the blonde hair falling straight around her shoulders.

“Well, now, this is a much better view than the other times I’ve been in here this week.”

Scully turned her head quickly and looked at him. He appeared to be somewhere between his late 20's and early 30’s, was of average height and build, with light brown hair and brown eyes, a friendly smile, dressed in loose-fitting tan cargo pants and a red Polo shirt. He winked at her before inserting two dollar bills into the Pepsi machine and pressing a button.

“If I had known _you_ were around, I would’ve made up more excuses to come in here.”

She still stared at him, not knowing what to think. He smiled at her. Her stomach was tightening with fear, and her breathing started to quicken. She had no weapon on her. She was trapped in this room. There was no way she could get past him to the door without him grabbing her. She’d have to fight to make it out of this room alive.

He pulled the 20 oz. bottle of Wild Cherry Pepsi from the vending machine and grabbed his change, pocketing it, and then looked over at her again. “Maybe I’ll see more of you around here. I sure wouldn’t mind that.” The man winked at her again, giving her another friendly smile, and then he turned to leave the room, opening the glass door and disappearing.

Scully stood frozen for a few moments. She stared down at her ice bucket, now full. That man hadn’t been a threat. She supposed he’d just been flirting with her. There was no real danger. She sighed and shook her head, feeling silly, feeling the knots in her stomach begin to loosen. She grabbed the bucket and moved toward the door, wondering if there would ever come a time when casual interactions with other people wouldn’t put her on edge. As she made her way back to the suite, she nervously wondered just how well this meeting would go on Friday and hoped it wouldn’t turn into yet another thing they needed to survive.

Inserting her room key into the door, Scully walked back inside, before closing and locking the door behind her. The delicious smell of the food cooking welcomed her, and almost instantly the nerves she’d felt since that man had spoken to her started to dissipate even more. She carried the ice bucket to the kitchen and set it down on the counter. She then opened one of the cabinets above and pulled out a glass pitcher, bringing it to the sink and filling it with cold water before adding some ice. She turned to carry it over to the circular table. She then paused, staring. On the table there were now two place settings, complete with plates and silverware, water glasses and wine glasses. A bottle of Chianti and a small vase filled with blue cornflowers were set in the middle of the table.

Then she turned to see him walk out through the bedroom’s open doorway, coming towards her. Mulder looked better than the food smelled. He had put on a black pullover sweater, his white undershirt visible behind the collar. The sleeves were pushed up almost to his elbows. Dark blue jeans molded to his slim waist, hips, and long legs. His brown hair had been brushed back, except for that stubborn forehead curl that was starting to come loose. He’d finally shaven off that beard.

He smiled and took the water pitcher from her hands. Even in her black heels, Scully had to look up to meet his eyes. Mulder brought the pitcher over to the table, setting it down, and then picked up the bottle of Chianti, pouring some into both glasses. “Wine?”

“Sure.” She paused, still taking everything in. “Mulder, what is this?”

“What do you mean? We’re having dinner.”

He carried over both glasses, handing one to her. When she grabbed the glass, their fingers brushed. The feeling was cozy, familiar, but also electric. She caught her breath and tried to hide the threatening smirk by drinking her wine. Sexual awareness became almost a palpable presence in the room. They each felt it. His heart thudded. He saw her cheeks blush, saw the sudden leap of her pulse in the hollow of her throat. She swallowed, lowering the glass from her mouth. Their eyes met again, and held. He smiled and took a sip from his own glass. Standing this close she caught the familiar scent of his aftershave, rich with some spice and all male.

“Where did these flowers come from?” she asked, turning from his gaze.

Mulder looked back at the table. “I got them this morning when I went out to get the paper. There's a little florist shop across the street from the newsstand. When I got back, you were in the shower, so I popped them in the bottom drawer of the fridge. I guess I wanted to surprise you.” He paused, watching her look at the table. “Do… you like them?”

Scully smiled at him. “Of course. They’re beautiful. It's a wonderful surprise. Thank you.” She then handed him her wine glass. “Take this and have a seat. I need to check on dinner.”

Less than a minute later, she returned with two baby spinach salads. “I've also got brisket in the oven, with potatoes and carrots.”

The salad was crisp with a light dressing. It was delicious. “I didn't think I was all that hungry, but this is great.”

She smiled. “So, how's the planning coming along?”

“Good. I don't plan on us talking to many people, or any, if we can help it. I just want to hear what they have to say about it. It could be the key to everything.”

“And then what, Mulder?” The way he was talking only made her nervous.

He took a sip from his wine glass. “Well... I can't think of anyone more qualified or capable to figure out how we can use the information to help people than you, Scully. Just think of the lives it could save.”

She blushed under his praise. “Thanks. But whether that's actually possible or not remains to be seen.”

“Maybe there's hope. Remember?”

“Yes, Mulder. I remember. But what is it you truly hope to learn with more information about it? And what makes you think this Kansas Academy of Science will discuss anything relevant to what you want to know?”

Scully collected their finished salads and walked into the kitchen. He watched her, thinking carefully over how he should respond. She returned carrying plates of brisket, carrots, and potatoes. He topped off their wine glasses. Finally, he answered.

“Magnetite is one way to stop them. Those Super Soldiers, or alien replicants, whatever you want to call them. Can it be mined in large enough quantities? How quickly? What would be involved? How plausible is it that magnetite can be used for weaponry? Could it be easily mass produced?” He paused and looked down at his plate, pushing the food around with his fork. “Is it more potent in one form or another? Is it even possible for magnetite to maintain the same chemical makeup if it somehow takes on a liquid form? Or how much does the chemical makeup change? And would this supposed liquefied magnetite be potent enough to have a permanent effect on them? Or would it be only temporary? Or... would it have no real effect at all?”

Her bite of brisket turned to ashes in her mouth as she realized what he meant. She instantly thought of Jeffrey Spender and what he had done to William, that last villainous act thrust upon her son, pushing her into an act of desperation to protect him. Setting her fork down on her plate, she laid her hand on Mulder’s forearm. She felt his flexed muscles. She saw his jaw clench as he continued to stare down at his plate.

He looked up at her. She stared back at the sheer anguish in his gaze. Raw, undiluted pain darkened his eyes. Then he closed them, opened his eyes a moment later, and the pain was gone. He buried his emotions, pushing them away. He concentrated on the feel of her hand on his arm, her softness, the tenderness of the action.

“I'm sorry, Scully. We don't have to talk about this right now. We can talk about something else.”

“What should we talk about?” she asked, her hand still gently holding his forearm. She desperately wanted to talk more about William, about what had happened. Early Monday morning was truly the most they'd ever spoken on the subject of their son since his escape from prison. While she knew that Skinner had given him the facts of what had occurred, Mulder hadn't asked her for the details of what she'd experienced in his absence. She kept hoping that he would ask her about the adoption, that he’d pester her with questions, forcing her to give answers, to voice her reasons, to lay out all the specifics of what had happened.

Silence filled the room. She withdrew her hand and picked up her fork, and Mulder felt the loss of her touch acutely. She speared a piece of red potato, struggling to appear casual. The food was very good and eating gave her a way to get her emotions under control.

“I don’t know.”

She watched as Mulder cut a piece of the brisket with his fork, the action just as emotionless as his words. He sighed as he chewed the tender meat. This evening wasn’t turning out as he’d hoped. There had been no real physical intimacy between them since The Cabin. Not even a kiss. That was nearly three weeks ago now, and the longer time went on, the more consciously aware of it they became, but neither was saying anything about it. They ate for several more minutes in silence.

“Do you think it was a bad idea to see Holman and Sheila?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

“Do you?” she asked in reply, standing up from the table and carrying their plates over to the kitchen.

He sighed, and considered his answer for a moment. “We could’ve put them in danger.”

As he grabbed their glasses and joined her in the kitchen, she nodded. “That’s true. But like you said, it’s highly unlikely anyone would expect us to go to Kroner. I’m sure Holman and Sheila will be fine.” She took the glasses from him, setting them down inside the sink with their other dishes, hoping that what she’d said was the truth.

“If anything were to happen to them…” His voice trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. He leaned against the kitchen counter.

Scully’s warm fingers wrapped around his, giving him a gentle squeeze. Mulder’s hand grasped hers in return, and his thumb stroked over her skin, creating sudden sensual sparks. They gazed at one another. The muscles in the pit of her stomach tightened. Desire? Nerves? Maybe both.

“I want to forget every terrible thing that’s happened,” he whispered, his grip on her hand loosening as he began to play with her fingers.

“Can you simply forget? Is it really that easy? Every terrible thing that’s happened is tied to you and me, to the choices we’ve made.”

Mulder looked down for a moment, at their fingers still playfully entwining. He wanted to forget the constant guilt and condemnation that his heart plagued him with over his failure. His failure with his work. His failure as a partner. His failure as a father.

“No, it’s not that easy. There are things that are impossible to forget. I can’t ever forget you, I can’t ever forget our son. I don’t want to. But the rest… Yeah, sometimes I’d really like to forget all of it. Right now, I just want to think about you. What… what do you want?”

He looked into her eyes, a familiar knot of fear starting to tighten in his stomach. For years, he’d followed the “don’t ask, don’t tell” path of least resistance where Scully was concerned, afraid of what he’d find out. How foolish he had been. But he didn’t know what her answer would be, didn’t know if it would be filled with the regret that he wanted so badly to drive away.

“I’d like to forget too, at least momentarily,” she replied, before giving him a half smile. “I don’t know how possible that is.”

He wanted to express his love for her, desperately wanted to find a way to fight the regret over at all that had happened, all that they’d lost. His intense gaze softened as his eyes roamed over her face. “You’re beautiful, Scully. You were always pretty, but now…” His voice dropped. “Just beautiful. So sexy.”

Shivers raced down her body and hardened her nipples. Her heart pounded in her chest. His voice was really all it took. No one had a voice like his. No one sounded like him. He could make the most banal topic turn intimate just by stepping closer to her and dropping his voice to that soft, sandpapery whisper of his.

“I want to kiss you.”

“Where?” Scully gave him a slight grin.

Mulder’s gaze dropped from her eyes to her mouth. “Anywhere you want me to.”

She licked her lips as her belly warmed. Blood rushed through her and desire began to pool at her center. She wanted him to kiss her, needed it almost as much as her next heartbeat, her next breath. His gaze went lower, drifting down to the soft swell of her breasts underneath her white shirt, before rising back to her mouth. The need to touch her grew with every breath Mulder took. He wanted to trace her skin with his fingers and lips, hear her soft moans and cries of pleasure, taste her mouth and her arousal.

She slid her fingers up his palm, softly brushing his skin. “I want you to make me feel good, Mulder. Make me forget.”

The sound of her voice sent tingles down his spine. His gaze moved from her face, down the lines of her throat, over her shirt to her jeans. He abruptly reached down, lifting a surprised Scully, and swung her up to sit on the counter. He wedged his hips between her legs and ran his hands over the bare skin of her arms. He felt goose bumps rising over her skin, saw the flush spreading over her face and down her neck.

He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. She caught his bottom lip and sucked gently, the tip of her tongue darting out in a soft stroke. He instantly felt himself start to harden, and he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. He sank his other hand into her silky blonde hair, pulling her head back and invading her mouth. He kissed her passionately, deeply and possessively.

Scully dug her fingers into Mulder’s biceps and kissed him back with the same fierce passion. Her hands then slid around him, snaking beneath his black pullover. She found the hem of his white undershirt and slid her hands under it, caressing the skin of his back. _More, more, more_ , was all she thought. It wasn’t enough.

His hands went to her white t-shirt and he lifted it over her head, revealing a lacy pale pink racerback bra. Blood pounded in his ears and his arousal strained against his jeans. He molded his hands to her breasts, feeling the coolness of her bra against the heat of her flesh. He brushed his thumbs over her nipples through the thin cotton material. She tightened her thighs around his hips in response, and bunched his sweater and undershirt in her hands, pushing them up his torso.

He reached back, grabbed a handful of his pullover, and pulled it off along with his white undershirt. He tossed them to the floor. In the haze of his overheated brain, he decided that he wanted to move them out of the kitchen.

“Scully.”

“Mulder.”

His hands slid underneath her ass and lifted her from the counter. Instinctively, she locked her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders, and he turned to walk them into the bedroom. He flipped the light switch, each lamp on the two bedside tables illuminating, and he kicked the door closed behind him. She was placed on the bed and he gently pushed her back until she rested on her elbows. Her hair spread out on the mattress. The blonde was growing on him, but he missed the red. Maybe one day she’d get it back, maybe one day they could find a way to be like they once were. He quickly pushed those thoughts from his mind.

She stared at him, her breathing rapid and shallow, her mouth parted, her lips moist and slightly swollen from his kisses. She was so damn beautiful it made his chest ache, made his heart beat painfully beneath his ribs. He wanted to prove to her that he could make things better; that someday he wouldn’t be a failure, someday he’d find a way to stop the monsters that had done unspeakable things to her, to them.

But for right now, he could at least do this for her. He could give her pleasure, he could make her feel good. It was what she wanted. He’d do anything she wanted. He hovered over her, pushing her back further and trapping her on the bed between his arms. He bent his head and captured her lips with his own.

Scully’s brain was in a fog of arousal, in sensory overload. Mulder surrounded her, his firm chest and taut abdomen pressing against her. She felt his strength, his power. His mouth was starting to make her frantic with desire. She ran her hands over his back, her fingers caressing his warm skin, sliding over his flexing muscles and catching on his new scars. They hadn’t been there over a year ago, when he’d walked out her apartment door in Georgetown. But they were there now. All he’d given as an explanation was his stay at the military prison at Quantico. He hadn’t gone into detail.

Her hands trailed down past the waistband of his jeans, squeezing the firm ass beneath. She wanted this. She needed this. She needed Mulder, wanted Mulder. His thick erection pressed through her jeans. He then slid down, his hardness leaving her hot center as his mouth trailed along her jawline, down her throat. His tongue was hot and wet. Shivers ran up and down her spine.

Then he lifted himself, hovering over her. She keenly felt the loss of his body against hers, and she squeezed her eyes shut, arching into him. “Mulder.”

He leaned on one arm, propping himself up with his elbow, and slid his other hand over her bare shoulder, trailing down over her bra strap with intense heat. His deft fingers went to the front clasp of her bra, unfastening it. He pushed the bra apart and cupped one breast, sliding his thumb over her taut pink nipple. Sensations shot through her body, and she arched towards him.

Mulder groaned deep in his throat and bent over her, taking her other hardened nipple into the wet heat of his mouth. He sucked one, rolled and tugged the other between his fingers. The muscles in the pit of her stomach tightened with need. The throbbing ache at her center intensified. She started whimpering, soft mewls at the back of her throat. But then he stopped.

She opened her eyes and saw him staring down at her, becoming transfixed by the intensity of his gaze, filled with desire. His eyes were dark. The tight skin over his cheekbones, no longer covered by facial hair, was flushed with color. “I want to make you feel good. I need to make you feel good.” His voice was thick and rough, yet laced with his inherent tenderness. No voice on earth was like Mulder’s. The sound of it set her blood on fire.

His hands moved down her stomach, hot on her skin. They landed at her jeans, which were swiftly unbuttoned and unzipped. He pulled them down her legs in a swift motion, and soon both her jeans and heels were on the floor. At the same time, she tossed her bra to the floor as well. Then he returned to her, his hips settling between her legs, his forehead hovering over hers. He looked down and drew his forefinger along the waistband of her panties, the same shade of pale pink as her bra had been. His finger followed the edge from one hipbone to the other. His jaw clenched and he swallowed as he moved his hand down to touch her intimately through the pale pink cotton, his eyes drinking her in.

Scully felt a rush of desire and a feeling of power wash over her, to see Mulder look at her that way. It was impossible to measure just how much she wanted him, needed him, just how much she loved him. It was incalculable. It was impossible to describe in words all that they felt for one another, all that they were to each other. It was indefinable.

He moved his hand lower, cupping her center through the cotton material, stroking her as she throbbed and swelled in response to his touch. He leaned over her once again, capturing a taut nipple in his mouth as he slid his hand beneath her panties and down through her wet folds, two fingers sinking deep inside her cunt. She moaned loudly, her hands going to his head, holding him against her as his mouth suckled and his fingers stroked. Deep in her belly, indescribable tension pulled tighter and tighter.

Mulder removed his fingers from her center and started to slide down her body. He gently nipped at her hipbone with his teeth, before soothing the sting with his tongue. She clenched her legs around him. He caught her thighs, pressing them wider apart, as he moved to sit on his knees beside the bed. He stared at her center, and then raised his eyes to meet hers. She licked her lips. His face flushed even deeper.

“Your panties are so wet, Scully. They’re clinging to you. That is one of my favorite sights.”

Blood roared in her ears and her eyes rolled back, her hands fisted the sheets. He kissed her through the material at her center, dragging his tongue over her and pressing the damp cotton into her. Scully slammed her head back into the mattress, her body rising. It was so good, but she wanted more, needed more. It wasn’t enough, there was never enough of Mulder.

He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her panties and pulled them down her legs. He stared at her center, and felt his balls tighten, felt his cock throb, straining against his jeans. “Watching you let go, seeing your pleasure, seeing you wet and swollen, knowing that I’m responsible, that I’m the one who does this to you, you have no idea how good that makes me feel, Scully.”

She arched off the bed again, whimpering. She felt like she was about to combust. His hands caught her hips, holding her to him. He looked up and their eyes held in an intense gaze. Her chest was heaving with anticipation, her lips parted. He smirked and then he was there, delving his tongue into her drenched folds. “You taste so fucking good,” he groaned, thrusting inside her cunt. Holding her steady, he pulled her forward, sucking her throbbing clit into his mouth, licking with firm strokes of his tongue.

Moans pushed past Scully’s lips from the back of her throat, along with the occasional whimpered “Oh, God,” “Oh fuck,” and his favorite, “Oh, Mulder.” Her arousal flowed hot and wet onto his tongue as tension built in her muscles. The more she whimpered his name, he knew the closer she was. With one forceful stroke of his tongue against her clit as he held it between his lips, her body suddenly went rigid and her hands flew to his head, tightly pressing him down against her. She shattered, erupting with hot waves of pleasure.

Mulder stayed with her, his mouth not leaving her center, pushing her orgasm higher, then bringing her back down with soft kisses on her inner thighs, before sending her flying again towards another peak, her cries filling the bedroom. He stood up, removing his jeans and gray boxer briefs, along with his socks, watching her body tremble as she lay on the bed.

Suddenly he loomed over her and they slid back farther up the mattress. Scully grabbed hold of him, pulling him down on top of her, her mind frantic with arousal. Her mouth hungrily sought his. Her kiss was wild with passion, all open mouth and thrusting tongue as she spread her knees wide. His hips settled between her legs and she locked her thighs around him. They shifted until his cock was cradled against her slick, swollen folds.

“You feel so good,” she murmured, her tongue flicking over his lips as he slid his hard shaft up and down her hot, wet center.

He groaned into her mouth. “Keep talkin'.”

Scully chuckled. Everything his voice did to her, she knew her voice did to him. Reaching between them, Mulder gripped his cock, circling her clit with the engorged head until he couldn’t stand the wait any longer. He moved down to her entrance, and worked himself inside. He gasped as her wet heat enclosed around him. “God, you’re so tight,” he murmured. She arched her hips to take him deeper and he gasped. “Fuck…”

She let out a breathy laugh. “And you’re so big.” He groaned at her words. She smiled. “And you’re so hard, Mulder. You make me feel so good.”

He dropped his head, hovering over hers. “Christ, Scully,” he gasped. He rocked forward and started to thrust, his palms on the mattress on either side of her. Her back arched, pressing her breasts into him. She felt the tension at her center coiling tighter and tighter with each thrust, with each rhythmic brush of his pubic bone against her swollen clit, until it felt like every muscle in her body was desperately straining for the release.

Scully’s lips parted on a broken sob as she finally came, her body convulsing beneath him, her cunt squeezing him so tight it was all Mulder could do to hold back his own release. She was so gorgeous, eyes slammed shut, her mouth swollen from his kisses, her perfectly round breasts with their pink nipples arching up, her ivory skin flushed in pleasure. He thrust down against her hard, grinding his cock deep inside, wanting her orgasm to last as long as possible. He gripped her hips and held her against him, rocking against her as she rode out her pleasure.

Soon she was coming down off her high and breathing hard, staring up at him with heavy lids. All he could see in her face was bliss as she smiled up at him. He leaned over, pressing his mouth to hers. Breaking the kiss, he gazed down at where they were joined, and a growl ripped from his chest as he watched his thick shaft sink inside her. The sight of himself, slick with her juices, made his cock so hard he thought his skin was going to burst into flames.

"Mulder," she whispered.

He looked up and met her eyes. With a gentle hand on his chest, Scully pushed him away from her. He leaned back, pulling out. She brought her leg up and rolled over until she was lying on her stomach. She once again spread her legs and he groaned, leaning back over her. 

Grabbing hold of the thick base of his cock, he pushed in at her entrance, slipping easily inside her cunt to the hilt. She let out a soft moan and he gasped at the tight, wet pressure surrounding him. He leaned over her, pressing his chest into her back, his thighs cradling hers. His forearms rested on the mattress on either side of her and he kept his face next to hers as his hips resumed their rhythm, relishing the feel of her soft ass pressed against him.

This was what Scully wanted. There was never enough of Mulder. Sometimes she felt as if she could never get close enough, as if in desperate need for their bodies to merge into one. But now it seemed as though every inch of his body covered hers. His hands slid forward, his arms entrapping hers, and he took her hands, entwining their fingers. His mouth was in her ear, telling her how good she felt, how beautiful she was, how much he loved her. With his soft, sandpapery voice in her ear and his hard cock thrusting down against that sweet spot inside, exquisite tension coiled tight once again. She ground her hips along with his thrusts, her throbbing clit rubbing into the mattress. She started whimpering at the feel of his body with hers, at the sound of his voice in her ear, the intense feeling of her imminent release. She then erupted with pleasure, coming in a deep, throaty moan, her body shaking underneath him.

He pumped his hips in hard, deep strokes. He felt his release radiate at the base of his spine, streaks of pleasure rushing out from his center. Explicit words of passion spilled from his lips. Scully’s hands tightly gripped his, answering back with a whispered “I love you, Mulder” in his ear. At the sound of those words, his orgasm ripped through him with such intensity that he thought he might black out. He came in a long, guttural moan, the long heavy spurts of his release filling her core.

Mulder collapsed on top of her, barely managing to turn them both to lie on their sides so that he wouldn’t crush her. He wrapped his arm around Scully’s waist, hugging her to him as he buried his face in her neck. Her arms went around his back, her hands going to his hair, running her fingers through it. They held onto each other like that for some minutes. He then pulled himself away and walked into the bathroom. After he'd returned with a warm damp washcloth, tenderly wiping her clean, he lay back down beside her and cradled her to him as he looked up at the ceiling. Reaching over to the wall next to the headboard, he flipped the light switch, instantly darkening the room. With her head pillowed on his shoulder, soon after they were both asleep.


	134. "Your aliens, Agent Mulder. Your little green men arrived here millions of years ago."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully attend the Kansas Academy of Science Annual Meeting, where new information sheds some light on their understanding.
> 
> Sidenote: Shout out to Joselyn Rojas, Immunoendocrinologist and X-Phile. This lady has three masters degrees: immunology, human metabolism, and endocrinology. In 133 chapters of this fic, I have never used a beta reader. I'm too much of a control freak. However, I needed what I wrote here to make sense. I needed it to be believable. So thanks to the wonderful, intelligent, very funny, and kind @JossaDosBichos for reading this chapter before it went to post, assuring me that the information contained wasn't ridiculous, and even giving me some excellent additional information to read. You can find her on Twitter obsessing over the X-Files and hosting #XFScienceSundays every week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Biffy Clyro - "Questions and Answers"
> 
> Grab a handle  
> Twist it till something drops  
> You're up when you're winning  
> You feel like your head's gone soft
> 
> Even though we spend our time without a chorus
> 
> Little twitches  
> Give him a special edge  
> You can't understand it  
> Transparent and soft in the head
> 
> Even though we spend our time, now here's the chorus  
> You've got all these great answers to all these great questions
> 
> Take advantage of the sound  
> Lean in to walls leading to minds
> 
> You've got all these great answers to all these great questions  
> (Still I feel them passing me by)  
> You've got all these great answers to all these great questions  
> (Try to understand)

On Friday morning, April 12th, Scully dressed in her black pantsuit and white button down blouse, before slipping into her black leather ankle boots and stepping into the bathroom. They’d driven to the city of Hays the evening before and rented a motel room, planning on returning to Salina on Sunday morning. After brushing her teeth and applying her makeup, she stood looking at her reflection in the mirror. She grabbed a comb from the sink and ran it through her blonde hair, noticing the darker roots starting to come in. Her hair was getting longer, and she wanted to keep it tamed and professional looking for the meeting. Gathering her hair at the base of her neck with her left hand, she used her right to secure it in place with an elastic band. As she smoothed down any loose strands, Mulder walked into the bathroom.

A smile crept across her face at the sight of him dressed in brand new navy blue suit pants, a white long-sleeved dress shirt, and the silver, black, and blue crisscrossed diagonal striped tie she’d picked out when they’d gone shopping in Topeka. She also felt a tinge of sadness. He was dressed as if this was just another morning before work, dressed as if they still had some purpose to their lives, as if they were right back where they were just a couple years ago, before their world was turned upside down. He came up to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and dropping his mouth to her temple, giving her a soft kiss. Their eyes then met in the mirror, staring at each other.

“You nervous?”

“A little,” she sighed. Since they’d arrived in Hays the night before, butterflies had been filling her stomach.

His arms wrapped tighter, holding her closer to him. “Me too, but we can go over the plan again,” he offered, trying to reassure her. “We’ll enter the university with our fake I.D. cards and get our passes for the meeting. We’ll find the table where we’ll sit and listen to what is discussed. Then we’ll leave. Same thing tomorrow. We don’t even have to go to the banquet dinner, if you don’t want to. We can drive straight back to our suite tomorrow afternoon.”

She considered his words. “Do you really think it’ll be that simple? That we can just slip in and out with no complications? What if someone recognizes us? And do we really have to go today? The magnetite presentation isn’t until tomorrow.”

“You have to register for both days and pick up your passes on Friday. If we just showed up tomorrow, they wouldn’t let us in. And who could possibly recognize us? No one knows we’re in Kansas. I doubt we’ll know anyone there, so they wouldn’t know who we are.”

“Well, what about that college professor of yours? The one giving the magnetite lecture?”

He chuckled. “Scully, I was 18 years old when I took his class. He wouldn’t recognize me now. Besides, he’ll be on stage giving the presentation. I won’t be talking to him.”

She looked at him in the mirror for a moment. “Unless you find the need to pick his brain, Mulder. If you have questions, if his presentation doesn’t give you the information you want, you can’t tell me you won’t seek him out to speak to him further.”

He turned his gaze from the mirror, lowering his mouth to her ear. “Everything will be fine, Scully,” he whispered, before giving her a soft kiss. Mulder then let go and walked back out of the bathroom. She stared at her reflection, seriously hoping that was true.

At 8:30 am they arrived at The Hammond Alumni Center on the Fort Hays State University campus. Once the Jeep was parked in the lot and they made their way inside, they approached the registration table in the first floor lobby. A middle-aged woman with curly dark brown hair and black-rimmed glasses sitting behind the table greeted them.

“Good morning. Did you already pre-register or are you signing up now?”

“We pre-registered,” answered Mulder, handing over his fake University of Maryland I.D. card as Scully did the same. “Wallace and Angela Schiff.”

The woman checked their cards against her list of registered names. “Yes. I’ve got you both here. Well, I see we’ve got quite a few people from various physics departments all over the country here this weekend. You’ll fit right in.” She smiled as she handed them back their cards.

Mulder glanced at Scully, nodding. They’d decided to go with the University of Maryland for their false identities, her alma mater, as she was familiar with the school, and also falling back on her undergraduate degree in physics to use as a credential. They had hoped they wouldn’t run into too many people who wanted to pull them into conversations, but now hoped they wouldn’t run into anyone else from that same university.

“Um, do you know if anyone else from UMD is attending?” Scully asked, trying to sound casual.

The woman looked back down at her registration list, flipping through some pages. “Nope. I don’t see any others registered. Just the two of you.”

She thanked the woman and then they were pointed in the direction of the Tiger Communications Hall. Mulder and Scully took two seats in the back row of the vast room. Many rows of black chairs had been set up, and there was a podium at the front of the hall with a large projection screen hanging from the ceiling behind it. At 9:00 am, the meeting was called to order by the Kansas Academy of Science council members.

Throughout the morning and afternoon, with an hour break at 12:30 pm for a buffet luncheon served in a large conference room on the same floor, oral presentations were given by students working towards degrees in scientific fields as well as professors from various colleges and universities in the state of Kansas. At 4:00 pm Friday’s session came to an end, and Mulder and Scully departed Fort Hays State University. There had been no complications, nothing untoward in any way, nothing to fear. They each felt the tight knots of anxiety in their stomachs begin to loosen.

That night they made love like it was the first time, and maybe the last. He touched her gently, as if she was something delicate and fragile that needed protecting. She responded to him with passionate tenderness. And as always the small thought lay between them, unspoken and in the back of their minds: maybe never again; maybe this was all they would have; maybe they would finally be found by those seeking to destroy them, and this time there would be no escape. They finally lay with arms and legs entwined as their breathing slowed and their heartbeats returned to normal. Then, sated, they peacefully slept as dreams of their son filled their minds, leaving deep imprints on their souls.

*****

The meeting again commenced on Saturday morning at 9:00 with student poster presentations. Following the 30 minute morning break, the session resumed at 10:30 with the Distinguished Lecturer Program and the Keynote Symposium entitled “Magnetite: The Foundation of Life.” The first of three speakers was announced as Nicholas L. Fischer, who held a Ph.D. in geology from the University of Massachusetts and currently was a professor at New York University.

Mulder and Scully exchanged glances as an older man with white hair took the stage. Behind the podium, the projection screen was lit up with the title of his lecture: “The Geologic Importance of Magnetite In Our Earth.”

“In the Early Proterozoic period, 2.5 to 1.6 billion years ago,” began Fischer. “Magnetite started to occur in large deposits of sedimentary rocks precipitated in Early Proterozoic oceans, during a time when the Earth’s oceans and atmosphere were undergoing a significant chemical transition.”

As the projection screen showed a geologic chart, Mulder turned to whisper in his partner’s ear. “Scully, what kind of life forms were on the Earth in Early Proterozoic?”

She turned, giving him look of phony exasperation. “ _Angela._ ” He nodded, smirking, as she brought her mouth close to his ear and whispered her reply. “It’s believed that the earliest eukaryotic organisms were formed at that time, meaning cells began to have organelles that were enclosed within membranes, such as a nucleus that would contain genetic material.”

“DNA,” he whispered.

“Right.”

Mulder stared straight ahead at the podium and watched his former professor, his mind in overdrive, trying to make the connections he knew were there. She watched the intense look come over his face as he listened to the presentation. The slide on the projection screen changed, and the speaker continued.

“Magnetite is dispersed throughout rock as microscopic crystals that form along the edges of iron-bearing minerals. In this dispersed form, it seldom can be detected by a hand held magnet, although rocks rich with magnetite crystals have a paleomagnetic signature that can only be detected by sensitive instruments.”

“Maybe alien technology,” he murmured under his breath. “Hmm… maybe not.”

Scully’s eyes widened and she gave him an arched look. “What?”

Mulder shook his head slightly. “Nothing. I’m just thinking out loud.”

Dr. Fischer continued his lecture with the history of magnetite in the earth’s formation, being one of the most widespread iron oxide minerals in the world, as well as its alignment with the Earth’s magnetic field. He spoke of the magnetite component in sedimentary and igneous rocks that has allowed geologists to interpret the history of the Earth’s magnetic field, past motions of its plates, and changes in its polarity. His presentation’s conclusion was greeted with a round of applause before the meeting’s chairman introduced the next speaker.

Mary Hill took the podium after the chairman told the audience that she held a Ph.D. in earth and environmental sciences from Columbia University and she currently was a professor of geology at the University of California, Berkeley. The projection screen behind showed the title slide to her lecture: “The Economic Importance of Magnetite In Our Society.” She began her presentation by stating that human history would have been very different without the magnetic properties of this mineral and that magnetite iron ore deposits were still highly sought after.

As her lecture neared its finish, a new slide was shown up on the projection screen entitled, “Magnetite In The Upper Midwest.” She spoke of the vast iron ore deposits across the mountain ranges of Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, and Wyoming.

“Although many of the more easily accessible high grade magnetite iron ores had already been mined out over a century ago,” stated Dr. Hill. “Enough secondary grade magnetite iron ore remained to support the iron mining that largely determined many local economies in these regions. The Upper Midwest’s iron deposits also played a critical role during World War II, when they became the primary source of iron for the steel planes, tanks, and ships of the entire Allied war effort. Without these deposits, it is very likely that World War II would have had a very different, and far more tragic, ending. Interestingly, since the late 1940’s the iron mining industry in these areas has gone through a marked increase, which no one can really explain why. The local economies around the Iron Ranges are thriving and it appears as though high grade magnetite iron ore is once again being mined, with significant increases just over the past 10 years.”

The third, and final, speaker of the Keynote Symposium was introduced as Joselyn Rosan, professor of molecular biosciences at the University of Kansas who held a Ph.D. in biology from Vanderbilt University. After greeting the audience, she started in on her lecture on "Biomagnetism."

“For over 30 years, scientists have been extensively researching the phenomenon of magnetic fields produced by living organisms. Biogenetic material with ferromagnetic properties was discovered in some animals that have the ability to detect the Earth’s magnetic field, allowing for navigation. That biogenetic material was soon identified as magnetite, proving to be a real scientific breakthrough. For decades, scientists searched for biogenetic magnetite in humans but results were always inconclusive. Until just recently. A marvelous discovery has been made when we worked with a high-resolution transmission electron microscopy. The scientific community can now conclude that biogenetic magnetite is indeed found inside human tissue.”

Mulder and Scully exchanged looks, before giving their rapt attention back to Dr. Rosan. She continued as a new slide appeared on the projection screen.

“Ferromagnetic crystals were found to be organized into membrane-bound linear chains a few micrometers in length in the cerebral cortex, cerebellum, and the meninges. All the magnetite crystals that have been studied are single magnetic domains, meaning they are stably and uniformly magnetized. That means the production of this biogenetic mineral must be under precise biological control. The presence of membrane-bound biogenetic magnetite in brain tissue and the spinal cord have been shown to have a biological origin. Research has also shown that magnetite can be produced by cells as needed, strongly suggesting that humans with advanced physical intelligence could directly tap into this ability if they have an extensive crystalline network of magnetite within their brain cavity. Of course, we have yet to come across such a person. That in and of itself would be quite a remarkable discovery.”

Again, Mulder and Scully exchanged a look. She quickly averted her gaze and stared straight ahead, swallowing, her stomach filling with nerves. A hundred thoughts were racing through his head, of memories and past conversations, weighing all that he knew or he thought he knew with what he was now hearing.

“According to Einstein,” concluded the speaker some minutes later. “Matter is to be regarded itself as part, in fact the principle part, of the electromagnetic field, and electric energy is therefore the fundamental origin of our entire physical world. Bio-electromagnetism can be called the foundation of life on Earth. Scientists are now asking a fundamental question: What is magnetite doing in the human brain? Why is it there? Only time and more research will be able to answer this question.”

Dr. Rosan walked away from the podium to enthusiastic applause. Mulder and Scully sat in their seats as if frozen; still processing all that had been said on stage that morning. The chairman approached the podium, announcing the noon lunch break, and informed of the session resuming at 1:00 pm with the awards ceremony for the student presentations. The chairman told the audience that the Annual Meeting was expected to come to a conclusion by 3:00, and reminded those in attendance of the banquet dinner at 7:00 that evening.

Mulder and Scully stood up from their chairs as everyone began filing out of the hall to make their way to the buffet luncheon in the nearby conference room. They walked silently out to the carpeted hallway and made their way along with the crowd. Upon reaching the open double doors of the large conference room, they paused, remaining outside.

“Should we head back to the motel and pack up?” she asked.

He didn’t answer right away, weighing the pros and cons of leaving as soon as possible and hanging around for a while. “I need to talk to that professor, Scully.”

She sighed and licked her lips, pausing. “Which one?”

“The molecular biologist.”

“Mulder, I…”

But he was already heading for the door to the conference room, and she sighed again. He stood just inside the doorway, hands on his hips, scanning the room for a tall woman in her early to mid 40’s with shoulder-length brown hair wearing a heather gray skirt suit. He couldn’t find her. Scully walked up to stand next to him, looking up at him questioningly.

“She’s bound to be around somewhere. We might as well eat.”

He walked away before she could reply, and she followed him to the buffet line. Mulder kept his eyes peeled on the room, but there was no sign of Dr. Rosan. They ate lunch mostly in silence, neither wanting to engage in a conversation that could be heard by those sitting nearby, but also as they were unsure what to say to one another about the information that had come from behind the podium inside the hall.

As it was getting close to 1:00, and people began departing the conference room, Mulder spotted Dr. Rosan walking out of the room with some colleagues.

“Come on, Scully,” he said hurriedly.

“Mulder, what in the world are you going to say to her?”

He wasn’t exactly sure, but he felt strongly that he needed to pull this woman into a conversation. He worked his way across the room, heading for the open double doors, Scully following close behind him. They entered the corridor and started walking towards the hall. Mulder walked fast and caught up the woman first, just inside the large hall.

“Dr. Rosan?” he called out.

She turned around, and quickly looked him up and down, before smiling. “Yes? Do I know you?”

He shook his head, stepping closer to her. “No. But what if I told you that there could be a very good reason why magnetite is in the human brain… why magnetite formed exactly when it did in the Early Proterozoic period… why magnetite could be essential for the survival of the human race?”

Dr. Rosan blinked. “I’m sorry… Who are you?”

Mulder paused as Scully finally reached his side, and he glanced down at her before answering. “I’m, uh, Wallace Schiff. Um… assistant professor of astrobiology at the University of Maryland.”

Her colleagues whom had also stopped to watch this interaction then snorted and walked away. She licked her lips, fighting a grin. “ _Astrobiology._ Are you going to tell me that magnetite is somehow linked to extraterrestrial life? Is that it?”

Scully closed her eyes and looked down at her feet, her stomach filling with nerves.

“Would you like to hear me out, or not?” Mulder asked, smirking.

“While I’m sure that would be a very… _interesting..._ conversation, the session is about to start in just a few minutes,” replied Dr. Rosan.

His hands went to his hips again, and he suddenly felt full of nervous energy. “What about after… at 3:00?”

The molecular biologist smiled. “I have to attend the executive council meeting promptly at the end of the session.”

“How long does that last?” he asked impatiently.

Dr. Rosan looked him up and down again, thrusting her tongue in the side of her cheek. Mulder thought he noticed her pupils dilate. “Tell you what,” she said. “I’ll be at the banquet this evening. Come and find me then. We’ll have a few drinks, and you can tell me everything you know about magnetite and little green men.”

She smirked and turned around, walking towards the front of the large hall. He turned to his partner. “I guess we’re going to that banquet.”

“Mulder…”

“We already registered, Scully. It’s been paid for. We might as well go.”

She sighed. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He looked down at her, frustrated. “Why not? We came here for a reason. There are answers here, for us to figure out. It could explain…” He paused, not knowing how to finish the sentence. “A lot of things.”

Scully had a feeling she knew where Mulder was going with this line of thinking, but she didn't want to believe it. It only caused an overwhelming sense of dread. Her stomach knotted with worry. “Can we go back to the motel now? We don’t have to be back until later. I want to get out of here.”

He watched her turn and start to head in the direction of the main lobby. His brows furrowed and he was filled with uncertainty. Mulder had a feeling Scully would not react well to the theories that were starting to form in his mind, and especially not the ones concerning their son. He sighed, and then started walking after her.

*****

At just past 6:30 pm, Mulder and Scully arrived back at Fort Hays State University. In the Tiger Communications Hall, where there had been rows of chairs and a large projection screen earlier, an elegant banquet dinner had been set up. Beneath the soaring arched ceiling there were round candlelit tables draped in white linen and seating for 200 people. A small conference room had been turned into a coat check.

At the reception table outside, Mulder and Scully found they were seated at table 24, and then made their way inside the large dimly lit hall. The caterers that had been chosen by the Kansas Academy of Science came through with savory roast sirloin of beef and all the trimmings. Everyone raved about the meal. Scully and Mulder were seated with six other people at their table, and tried to make small talk as best they could, at the same time trying not to go into too much detail about the false identities they’d created.

Once the meal was finished, their tablemates got up to wander around the room and mingle with colleagues or meet with new people. Scully watched him scanning the room, trying to see if he could set eyes on Dr. Rosan. They sat next to each other in silence, much like they had all afternoon back at the motel. Neither had spoken much to each other since leaving the meeting earlier that day, each lost in their own thoughts. As soon as Mulder made the decision to get up and walk around to look for Dr. Rosan, she suddenly appeared at their table holding two glass tumblers in her hands.

She sat down in the chair to Mulder's left, holding out one of the drinks. “I hope you like vodka tonics.”

He took it from her and nodded. “Uh, thanks. Yeah, it’s fine.” He then turned look at his partner. “Um, Scu… uh, Angela, would you like a drink?”

Scully gave him an indecipherable look. “No, thank you.”

“So,” said Dr. Rosan, taking a sip from her cocktail and crossing her long legs towards Mulder suggestively as he turned back to face her. “I want to hear all about this theory of yours. But first why don’t you introduce me to your… wife? Girlfriend? Coworker? Friend? Sister?”

Rolling her eyes, Scully glanced up at the ceiling. Mulder coughed. “This is my partner… Angela Schiff.”

Dr. Rosan eyed him. “And you’re… Wallace Schiff, you said?”

He nodded and took a drink from his glass.

“And what do you do… _Mrs. Schiff_?” the biologist asked questioningly, not sure whether to address her as such.

“ _Dr. Schiff_ , and I teach physics at the University of Maryland,” replied Scully, giving her a tight-lipped smile.

Nodding, Dr. Rosan then turned her complete attention on Mulder. “So… you say you have the answers to the mystery that is magnetite.”

He watched her eyes glint at him teasingly, and he suddenly felt slightly uncomfortable. “Well… let’s suppose that in the Early Proterozoic period a, uh... foreign entity was introduced to the Earth, something that hadn’t been there before. A virus, for instance.”

Scully swallowed and crossed her legs, looking down at her lap, her hand smoothing over her knee-length red dress.

Dr. Rosan arched an eyebrow. “Go on…”

“And let’s say this virus was hostile, a vectoring organism that would mutate and attack. Let’s suppose the Earth formed a natural defense against this virus in this same period.”

“Magnetite,” stated Dr. Rosan.

Mulder nodded. “And what if this virus was expelled from the Earth’s environment, unable to coexist with the overwhelming amount of iron ore that was forming. But perhaps the virus wasn’t completely eradicated, finding a way to lay dormant underground as an evolved pathogen following the last ice age.”

Dr. Rosan took a sip from her vodka tonic, her eyes twinkling at him. “I suppose it’s plausible. There’s no way to know just how many viruses and bacteria were originally in Earth’s atmosphere at that time.”

He wasn’t sure whether she was really taking him seriously or not, but he continued. “What if human life also evolved, or attempted to evolve following this time period, in a way that also had a natural defense against this virus? Say early human life evolved while exposed to this virus, and also finding a way to fight it off. Say our brain and spinal cord tissues became infused with those magnetite crystals. Say we all possess a genetic remnant, in the form of inactive junk DNA, which is evidence of this virus in all human life.”

“So… what you’re saying is that there was once a hostile virus that the human body formed a natural immunity to?” Dr. Rosan questioned.

“I think evolution tried to,” answered Mulder. “But with the last ice age, the virus was mostly removed from the Earth’s environment and there was no longer a need for humans to further develop a way to fight against it. At least at that time.”

Dr. Rosan eyed him. “And what about now? Are you implying that this virus, this mutating, vectoring organism is no longer dormant?”

He paused, considering his answer, while Scully chewed on her bottom lip. “Suppose an event a little over 50 years ago re-introduced the virus into the Earth’s environment, an environment now with an abundance of human life to use as hosts.”

“And… magnetite is the key to our survival?”

Mulder nodded.

She shook her head. “The amount of magnetite found in the human body is very small. I can’t see how it would be useful at fighting off anything, certainly not a virus as lethal as one you're suggesting.”

“Suppose once this virus became re-introduced to the planet, the Earth as well as mankind took a jump forward in evolution to fight this. Dr. Hill stated in her part on the symposium that since the late 1940’s there has been a significant increase in magnetite iron ore mining. And you yourself hypothesized the existence of humans with advanced physical intelligence that would have the ability to use the abundant amount of magnetite their bodies would possess.”

Scully slowly looked up, turning to stare at the back of Mulder’s head.

Dr. Rosan gave him a wide-eyed stare, in amazement at his tenacity. “Yes, in theory. It doesn’t mean such a human being exists, or would ever in our lifetime.”

He swallowed. “Well, what if… what if a human being, perfect, advanced, did exist? And he possessed an abundance of biogenetic magnetite in his brain and spinal cord? An increased amount of magnetite, suppose in liquid form or any other, introduced to his system wouldn’t have any kind of adverse effect on him, it wouldn’t change his DNA at all. And in fact, the abundance of magnetite in his brain tissue could be the key to fighting off this… uh, this virus.”

Letting out the breath she was holding, Scully abruptly stood up from the table, seething, and started to walk away. Mulder turned sharply and called out. “Scully!”

“I thought her name was Angela,” said Dr. Rosan.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, it is,” he hurriedly replied, turning to look at her curious expression. “Scully was, um, her maiden name. Sometimes I still call her that, you know…”

She nodded. “So… this virus, this foreign hostile entity that invaded Earth’s environment over two billion years ago, you think it’s extraterrestrial, don’t you? Is that what you're getting at? Why did you want to speak to me about this? Is there something you think I’d be able to do for you? If this story was even plausible.”

Mulder stared at the teasing smirk forming across her face. He wondered how much farther he should take the conversation. He wanted to go after Scully, but he also wanted answers. He wanted to find a way to fight back. He felt pieces of the puzzle were there, for him and his partner to put together. He looked into the face of Dr. Rosan, wondering just how much he should reveal concerning his work on the X-Files.

Standing over by the wall behind tables 24 and 25, a man abruptly turned his head at the sound of the name "Scully" shouted above the nearby din. Now that was a name he hadn't heard in a very long time. He turned away from his colleagues, and watched a woman walk quickly away from Table 24. A knee-length red dress with long sleeves in some kind of sheer material clothed her petite figure. Butterflies filled his stomach as he stared after her. It couldn't really be her, could it? The hair was blonde, and that was very different. But there was something about the way she walked, as if in angry, determined purpose towards the cash bar. His pulse quickened. He had to find out if it really was her. He excused himself from his friends and started to walk across the room.


	135. "What if there was only one choice and all the other ones were wrong? And there were signs along the way to pay attention to."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully runs into an old familiar face as Mulder continues his attempt to make the necessary connections, leading to a stormy confrontation.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MS MR - "All The Things Lost"
> 
> No matter how sweet the salt  
> We push so hard we finally broke  
> Oh, no more apologies need be exchange  
> Oh, no words could ever help relieve this pain
> 
> All our silence could not excuse  
> Disappoint or further prove  
> Anything other than what we already know  
> Easier to live a pain than have to let it go
> 
> Spent your life collecting so you can never forget  
> Treasured moments become lost treasures when you can't recollect  
> Everyone keeps asking are we okay  
> The truth is we're not but I don't know what to say

Scully approached the banquet’s cash bar and opened her small black clutch while she waited for the bartender to step over to her. After a few moments, he turned his attention from the other bar patrons, giving her an expectant look.

“I’ll have a cranberry gin and tonic with extra limes, please,” she told him.

A man stepped up to the bar to her right, and chuckled. “I thought that might be you. Your hair threw me off for a minute, but your drink just confirmed it.”

She turned to look at him with a confused expression, but then her eyes widened in recognition of the handsome face in front of her. His tall frame was dressed sharply in a charcoal suit. His black hair was now going a little gray at the temples. His blue eyes were full of surprised amusement.

He chuckled again. “Hi, Dana.”

She swallowed. “Joe! What… what are you doing here?”

“What am _I_ doing here?” he laughed. “What are _you_ doing here? Do you still work for the FBI?”

“Um… no, not anymore,” she replied as the bartender set her cocktail down in front of her. She looked around nervously.

He nodded slowly, taking in her rigid posture, assuming she was upset about something. “Are... are you okay?"

Scully blinked. “Yeah, I'm fine."

He pursed his lips as silence fell between them. "So… what are you doing with yourself these days?”

She swallowed. "Um, I’m, uh, teaching. Yeah.”

“Really?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. He chuckled. “The last time I saw you, you were attending the FBI Academy. Never in a hundred years would I have thought that would be your career choice.”

“Yeah, you and a lot of other people,” she murmured, and reached for her drink.

“You know, I would see your name in _The Post_ once in a while over the years,” he said. “Usually involving some FBI case you were working on. The last time I saw your name was, uh, in the obituaries, actually. Your FBI partner had died.”

Scully opened her mouth to reply, but then quickly closed it, nodding quietly.

Joe sighed. “I’m sorry about that. I’m sure that was a rough time.”

“So why are you in Kansas?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.

After ordering a beer from the bartender, he answered. “I got divorced five years ago, and wanted to get away from Maryland. So I took a position as an associate professor at KU’s Department of Physics and Astronomy.”

She took a sip from her cocktail and smiled. “Sounds like you’re doing well for yourself.”

Joe shrugged. “Career-wise, yeah, I suppose.” He glanced down over her as she took another drink from her glass, his gaze dropping to the V-neckline in her red dress that was just deep enough to expose cleavage. “What about you? I don’t see a ring on your finger. Did you ever get married?”

She snorted. “No.”

“I’m not surprised,” he said, before taking a swig from his beer bottle.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Scully asked incredulously, averting her eyes from his.

He smirked at her. “I think you know exactly what it means.”

She rolled her eyes, grinning, and took another sip from her drink.

“So how long are you in town for?” Joe asked, smiling. “I’ve got a suite at the Holiday Inn for the weekend. We could, uh, relive some old times.”

Her eyes widened and she felt her face growing red, a sense of embarrassment welling up inside. “Um, I really should get back to my table.”

“Good, I’ll come with. I’d love to meet him.”

She sighed at the sight of his knowing smirk, but couldn't stop the smile spreading across her face. She knew there'd be no use in arguing, and started to walk over to her table. As they got closer, Joe following behind her, Scully suddenly turned and whispered hurriedly.

"Don't call me Dana at the table."

He chuckled. "What do you mean? What am I supposed to call you?"

She paused slightly. "Angela."

"Angela?" He furrowed his brows in confusion, and then his eyes widened in excitement. "Are you undercover? You  _do_ still work for the FBI!"

"No!" she whispered forcefully. "I don't work for the FBI anymore."

He shot her a sarcastic look. "Oh, well, that explains everything."

Scully heaved an exasperated sigh. "Just go with it, Joe. Jesus."

He laughed as she turned around and he once again started following behind her to the table. He muttered that he wanted an explanation later and she rolled her eyes. Moments later they were standing at Table 24, where Mulder still sat with Dr. Joselyn Rosan. He stared at the man standing beside Scully, and then turned an anxious stare on her.

"Who's this?"

"Um, this is Joseph Lohman," Scully told him. "He was my senior thesis advisor at the University of Maryland."

Nodding, Mulder held out his hand. "Wallace Schiff. Nice to meet you."

Glancing between Scully and her partner, he reached over and shook his hand. He then looked over at the woman sitting next to Mulder. "Hey, Joselyn."

"Hi, Joe," she said, greeting her coworker with a smile. "What a small world. Are you going to sit down and join us? I'd like to hear all about you and Angela, here."

Chuckling, he took the chair on the right side of the one Scully was lowering herself into. “Right. _Angela._ ”

Scully cleared her throat and took a sip from her cocktail, averting her eyes from Mulder’s gaze.

“Well,” sighed Joe. “Back in the mid-80’s, I was a postdoctoral research associate at UMD and worked in the Physics Department. In the spring semester of, um, _Angela’s_ junior year, I was assigned as her thesis advisor. We, uh, worked very closely together for the next year. And I’m proud to say that she wrote a rather incredible thesis, one of the best I’ve ever read, and graduated with high honors.”

Mulder stared intensely at the guy’s arm reaching behind Scully’s chair, casually resting his hand on the back of it and smiling at her. He immediately knew that Joseph Lohman had been much more than just her advisor. He’d seen her earlier, when she stood at the bar, smiling and chatting easily with this man, who couldn’t be much older than 45. As he’d sat at the table, trying to keep his attention on Dr. Rosan, he couldn’t help but keep staring at Scully in easy conversation with someone whom he’d supposed was a stranger. He’d surprisingly felt hot jealousy rise up inside of him, nearly choking him.

“What was your thesis on?” asked Joselyn.

“Einstein’s twin paradox,” Scully answered.

Dr. Rosan nodded. “And what conclusion did your thesis come to?”

Mulder cleared his throat. “‘Although multidimensionality suggests infinite outcomes in an infinite number of universes, each universe can produce only one outcome.’”

“You’ve read it?” Joe asked, smiling.

“Sounds like he’s memorized it,” quipped Joselyn.

Chuckling, Joe to turned Scully. “I always thought that was a rather depressing conclusion. Do you still feel the same way?”

She stared at him with knitted brows. “Feel the same way about what?”

“Do you still agree with that conclusion? That the future is fixed and cannot be altered?”

Scully shrugged and brought her cocktail up to her mouth. “I don’t know what I believe. Maybe we can't change the future, no matter what we do.”

Mulder suddenly felt engulfed in sadness, and he started to worry. He wanted her to believe. He needed her to believe. “Hope depends on uncertainty, on mystery. If the future cannot be changed, there is no hope. But if the future could be changed, then there would still be uncertainty, and there would still be hope.”

She looked at her partner, at his eyes pleading with her. She averted her own as her stomach went into tight knots. Scully knew that he wanted to find a way to change that date that loomed in front of them, despite being over 10 years away. She knew he believed that date to be a reality, and that he wanted to find a way to fight it, to stop it. This only filled her with anxiety, especially when he kept hinting at their son having some kind of special significance.

“So then, we are faced with this intriguing question,” stated Dr. Rosan. “Do all choices and all roads lead to the same fate, or can the future be changed by our free will? Are we able to control our own fate?”

“People will make choices based on their character,” Joe said. “And the same type of character will usually be inclined to make the same type of choices, thereby leading to a predictable outcome. It’s not always guaranteed, of course. Some people do some really unpredictable things.”

Staring at his partner, Mulder began to speak. “You once said to me that maybe there was only one right choice, and all the others were wrong. And that there were signs along the way pointing us in the right direction, signs that we needed to pay attention to.”

Joselyn scoffed. “Signs? What kind of signs?”

“You mean signs from God, don’t you?” spoke Joe, with an eyebrow raised at Scully.

“Signs from God?” asked Joselyn in disbelief.

Joe nodded. “ _Angela_ here is a woman of faith. Or at least she was. But I can see you’re still wearing that gold cross. So maybe you still are.”

Dr. Rosan looked from him to Scully. “Setting the existence debate aside… How involved do you think God is in the universe? How much freedom do you think God gives humans, and how much of our lives are guided by him? Do you think our lives are predetermined by fate or can free will alter the future?”

She looked from Joselyn to Mulder, and their eyes met. She felt at a loss as how to answer. She believed that over the years she’d encountered signs that had pointed her in a particular direction. She generally interpreted them to be signs from God, and believed they’d pointed her in the right way to go. But so many terrible things had happened that seemed in direct conflict with this belief. From that night in the motel room in Roswell, it became clear that Mulder was starting to put faith in a Higher Power out there in the universe, that if they paid attention to the signs there was faith that the world was not lost.

“Well, there are different possible answers to that question,” he said, his eyes still holding with Scully’s.

“One: we could take the predestination side,” said Joe. “Our lives are all predetermined by God, or fate, or some other external force outside ourselves. We are all caught up in an elaborate chain of cause and effect where every choice we make in life has some purpose and leads to the final outcome. Every action and reaction is part of this detailed, predetermined plan for our lives.”

Joselyn glanced from Mulder to Scully, who were gazing at each other in some kind of silent conversation. “Well, then, Joe, option two would be the complete opposite: nothing is predetermined and life is entirely guided by free will, by the choices we make. So, if there is a God, he simply put the universe into motion and isn’t directly involved in the daily workings of it.”

Scully shook her head, still looking into Mulder’s face. “But what about evil? Why would God allow this to happen? Why do the innocent suffer?”

He looked at her sadly, his mind filling with memories of their son, and opened his mouth to reply, but Joe spoke up first. “Well, if God is all-powerful, benevolent, and just, and he is directly involved with guiding our lives, then he’s culpable for the suffering and evil in the world. God is either not truly just, or not powerful enough to overcome evil. Or, if nothing is predetermined and our lives are entirely guided by our own choices, God is simply not involved and we’re the ones responsible for the suffering in the world.”

“But then where does that leave everyone?” asked Mulder, finally breaking his gaze from Scully’s and looking at Joe. “Without any hope.” He then turned back to look at his partner and their eyes held once again. “There is a third option. Do you remember when I _wished_ for nothing more than peace on Earth? I _wished_ for nothing more than a safer and happier world.”

She remembered, and her eyes flickered with memory of that genie and his wishes.

Mulder nodded. “Do you remember what you said to me?”

“That… maybe the point of our lives was to achieve a happier world, that it’s a process that can’t be accomplished with one single act,” replied Scully.

“I was trying to play God and do what I thought he should do,” Mulder said, remembering the genie’s words to him. “But if the world was made perfect for us with no effort on our part, we’d become the equivalent of spoiled brats who are given everything they could ever want without knowing anything about hard work. Maybe a primary lesson in life is to face adversity, and that adversity will make us stronger. The challenges in life teach us perseverance, and we learn what it means to hope. We grow and mature.”

Drs. Rosan and Lohman exchanged curious looks, before she turned to Mulder. “So then why do bad things happen to good people?”

He sighed and looked at Joselyn. “Because… God allows people to make bad choices. We choose to make bad things happen every day. We’re granted free will, but for free will to be truly free, God can’t intervene whenever he wants to. Our freedom restricts him from taking action all the time. God may choose to send signs, attempt to guide us towards a good path, and it’s up to us to pay attention and to make the right choices. But we have the freedom to make the wrong ones. Fate, or predestination, is the hand we were dealt with in life, what we have no control over. But our free will decides what we do with it.”

Mulder then turned to look back at Scully. “Think of the lives you’ve helped: Kevin Kryder, Roberta Dyer. You believed that God sent you signs to help you save their lives. Think of the signs that led to your own life being saved.”

She thought of those children, how confusing those cases had been. But all these years later, she still believed that she’d been directed to save their lives, their souls. She remembered the signs that had been there when Donnie Pfaster escaped from prison, warning signs of the danger she was in, signs that saved her life in the end. Scully looked into Mulder’s face. His eyes were imploring, his voice was earnest.

“I didn’t see those signs, I didn’t believe them,” he continued, leaning towards her. “I was blind to them. But you did. Perhaps we are given signs, clues, to help us succeed, but we have to be paying attention. Our hearts have to be open so that our eyes can see the signs.” He swallowed, and his gaze turned intense, their eyes locking. “ _The answers are there. We just have to know where to look._ We have to search in order to find the answers we need.”

Whatever the answers Mulder wanted, they only scared her. She wondered at his motives for wanting to find them, the implications he had made concerning their son. She refused to be a part of it. Scully stood up from her chair, excusing herself to use the restroom, and walked away from the table. Helplessly staring after her, Mulder sighed as he leaned back in his chair.

Joselyn and Joe exchanged another glance. Some of Dr. Lohman’s colleagues then called him over and he excused himself from the table, giving his coworker a nod before walking away.

Dr. Rosan turned her attention on Mulder. “Are you all right?”

He sighed again. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

She re-crossed her legs, turning more towards him. “So. Back to what we were discussing before that whole philosophical debate. You said you had evidence of that virus, that it really does exist, that it was also found in someone’s DNA, and that you might even have evidence of a perfect human being with advanced physical intelligence. And you made these discoveries through your work… in astrobiology?”

He paused, considering how he should answer. “My partner and I… we’ve done some… side projects. Independent research.”

“And do you have any of this research with you?” Joselyn asked.

Mulder hesitated. He reminded himself to trust no one. But they had to trust someone. His gut told him Dr. Rosan could be trusted. He looked into her expectant face, debating what he should say.

*****

Scully stood in front of the bathroom sink, running her fingers through the loose blonde curls that hung down over her shoulders. She heard the rumble of thunder overhead, and the sound of rain pouring down against the building moments later. She gazed at her reflection for a moment and then made to leave the restroom. She opened the door, stepping out into the hallway, and saw Joe standing with his back against the opposite wall. He grinned at her, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

She walked over to stand in front of him. “Well… it was nice running into you tonight.”

“The night doesn’t have to end yet, you know,” he said, his voice dropping to a low suggestive murmur. “I’ve got that hotel suite. We could get out of here and have some fun.”

Letting out a breathy laugh, she shook her head. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

Joe gave her a sarcastic look. “Is that so bad? We were great friends, Dana. We had a lot of fun, if I recall correctly. Imagine how much more fun we could have now, when you no longer need to be inside your parents’ house by midnight.”

Scully rolled her eyes at his teasing smirk, remembering their repeated friendly arguments during her senior year in college over her father’s strict rules, and because she wouldn’t leave home and get her own apartment. “Yes. We did have fun. I had fun. But it was college, Joe. It was supposed to be fun. Then I went to medical school and grew up.” She sighed. “Actually, I didn’t grow up in medical school. I was still just as immature, just as foolish.”

“I bet that FBI Academy toughened you up,” he said, giving her a smile.

“Working with Mulder toughened me up,” she replied, snorting.

He shrugged, tilting his head from side to side. “Eh, you were always strong-willed. As one would expect from a Navy brat.” He gazed down at her for a moment. “You’re still not over it, are you? Losing your partner?”

She looked up at him in surprise. She opened her mouth to reply, but didn’t know what to say. Scully averted her eyes and looked away.

“So what’s up with you and that guy? How long have you been seeing him? Wallace, if that’s his real name. And what’s up with the fake name if you don’t work for the FBI anymore?”

“You ask too many questions,” she replied.

He chuckled. “I haven’t seen you in almost 12 years. Of course I have questions. And you gotta admit my questions are warranted, _Angela_.”

Scully shook her head. “It’s best not to know. It’s not important. So when did you get married?”

“The summer of ‘91.”

“Do you have any children?” she asked.

He snorted. “No, thank God. We divorced in ‘97 and I was glad there were no kids involved.”

She licked her lips, nodding. “So do you still have that summer house in Chesapeake Beach?”

“Nah, my ex got it in the divorce,” he replied. “But I did buy a condo in Foggy Bottom, on Virginia Ave. Got a nice view of the Potomac. I’ll be going back east when the semester’s over.”

“Joe!” she said excitedly, her eyes widening. “When you go back to DC this summer, could you do something for me? Would you go see my mother?”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “Your mother?”

Scully nodded. “She still lives in the same house, in Alexandria. I… I can’t see her. But you could tell her that you saw me, and that I’m okay. Could you do that for me, Joe? Please?”

“Dana, what is going on with you?” he whispered, moving to stand closer to her. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“It’s a long story, too long and too complicated to explain,” she said. “But just trust me, Joe. Please go see my mother and tell her that I’m okay.”

He shook his head, lowering towards her until they were inches apart. “But I don’t believe that you are _okay_.”

Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at him, pleading. “I’m fine. My mom needs to know that I’m fine. You have to tell her that I’m okay, and that I was alone. I wasn’t with anyone. She’ll ask you if you saw Mulder, and you have to tell her that I was alone.”

Joe gave her a look of disbelief. “How could I have seen Mulder? He’s dead. I read the obituary.”

Scully chewed on her bottom lip.

A look of realization came over his face. “Wallace. Wallace… is Mulder? That’s it, isn’t it?”

“You can’t tell anyone!” she whispered emphatically, placing her hands on his arms. “You can’t tell anyone that you saw him, or that we were together. Our lives are at stake. My family’s life is at stake.”

He opened his mouth to speak but the man in question caught his eye and Joe stood upright, stepping back from her and pulling his arms free from her hold. Scully quickly turned around to see Mulder standing a ways down the corridor, outside the open doorway to the banquet room. His hands were on his hips, and he gave her a cold stare, before turning around and walking back inside Tiger Communications Hall.

Scully looked back at her old friend. “Please, Joe. Please do this for me. It’s important.”

She then took off after Mulder, walking back towards the banquet with her stomach in knots. As she reached the doorway, he emerged, having gone back inside simply to grab his black suit jacket from the back of the chair.

“Mulder, I…”

“We’re leaving,” he said, cutting her off.

He walked right past her, heading for the lobby. She followed after him and tried to keep up, but Mulder was walking too fast. He reached the lobby before her, where other attendees were making their way out of the alumni center building. The rain was still pouring outside. He paused, groaning internally over not having an umbrella with them.

Scully finally caught up, reaching the lobby as he stood in front of the doors. “Mulder, I was _just talking_ to him.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek, and bracing himself to meet the downpour outside, started walking towards the glass doors, still bemoaning the fact that he hadn’t brought an umbrella. Cold wetness greeted him as he stepped outside and he began walking swiftly to the Jeep. Her eyes widened at his silent brush off, and she hurried out the doors after him. Within seconds she was soaked, wishing she’d worn a coat or had an umbrella.

“Mulder, stop ignoring me!” she shouted above the sound of the falling rain, following quickly behind him.

He didn’t stop moving, rounding the corner of the building. His eyes fell on the blue Jeep Wrangler parked in the very last spot in front of the building’s east wall and he hurried towards it. The lamp in that corner of the parking lot had apparently gone out, cloaking that area in darkness. He could hear Scully’s black stiletto heels on the pavement behind him. Just as he was about to reach for the front door handle, he abruptly turned around and stared at her. She came to halt in front of him, not having expected him to turn around. They were both breathing hard and soaked to the skin.

“You’re being fucking ridiculous,” she said. “I was just talking to him.”

“Well I didn’t like it,” he spat back.

She fixed a hard stare. “I didn’t like you talking about your theories to _Joselyn_.”

He nodded, knowing full well that what was about to come out of his mouth probably wasn’t the best choice, but to hell with it. “Yeah, well the difference being I’ve never slept with her.”

Scully’s eyes went wide and her mouth fell open.

“What? Like it wasn’t obvious? But I don’t know. Maybe it was supposed to be a secret. Maybe he was married, too.” His tone of voice was bitter, angry, and he immediately regretted what he’d said.

A hurt expression came over her face, and she turned around, walking away from him. He closed his eyes, hanging his head. “Dammit!” he gritted out. He then took off after her. “Scully, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean that!”

“Go to hell!” she shouted, still moving away from him.

He quickly reached her before she got too far and he grabbed her hand, spinning her around. “This has got nothing to do with anyone inside that building, and you know it. What happened to hope? And faith that things can change? That we can find a way to save ourselves? What happened to finding the truth, to finding the answers? Why are you giving up?”

She was breathing hard. Scully stared down at her hand in Mulder’s firm but gentle grip, and then looked back up into his face, at the raindrops collecting on his eyelashes and rolling down his cheeks. “I’m terrified,” she whispered.

“That makes two of us.”

It thundered above them. The clouds pressed down, giving no sign that the rain would be letting up anytime soon. She felt something let loose inside of her. She looked up at him as the rain continued to pour down on them. She wanted to climb inside him. Scully took a determined step forward, bringing her arm up. Her hand grasped the back of his neck, and pulling him down towards her, she caught his lips, kissing him hard. The thought of him kissing her, caressing her body with his lips and tongue made her tighten inside. Mulder wrapped his arms around her, kissing her back just as passionately.

Rain ran in cold tiny rivulets down their faces, dripping down their cheeks to fall on their chests as thunder continued to roll overhead. She felt the wet on her forehead, scalp, and shoulders. His mouth was a pool of heat, succulent lips and thick tongue. His arms engulfed her, pulling her closer, against his abdomen, against his thighs, his groin. Reaching between them, she released the fastening of his black suit pants, her hand moving inside. He moaned into her mouth and then broke the kiss, pulling his head back to look at her. She saw his eyes change, grow darker. Without shame or hesitation, she began to stroke him through his boxers as he hardened in response.

Mulder pulled her hand free, grasping it in his own, and then he turned them around, quickly walking back through the rain to the Jeep. He pulled the keys from his pocket, pressing the button to unlock the doors. After shoving the keys back into his pocket, he threw open the rear driver’s side door and climbed in. Scully got in after him, shutting the door behind her. She immediately moved to straddle his lap while pushing his pants and boxers down past his knees.

It was as if their bodies were whispering to each other and neither of them could bring themselves to speak. They were aware of the sound of their warm breath coming close to their faces and the pounding of the rain on the windows. He leaned back against the seat and he moved his hands up her thighs, his fingers tracing her garter straps, swirling delicate patterns on her skin as he climbed higher. So close to her center, pooling with desire, and she felt the warmth of his skin as he slid his fingers along the edge of her panties and bit back a moan.

She tried to ignore just how close his fingers were to her core as she grew more sensitive, more aware his every movement, his every sound. Mulder positioned her over his lap, still in their wet clothes, her knees on either side of his thighs, her cleft rubbing against his rock hard erection. Her lower lip caught between her teeth as she felt her soft cottony fabric rub against him, stimulating her hardening bundle of nerves. Scully let out a soft moan and pressed herself more firmly against him.

The mouth that then met hers felt as firm as the body she was pressing against. His tongue took possession and she responded in kind. His rigid erection pressed against her, causing more dampness and heat to pool at her center. She curled her arms around his neck. He reached up inside her dress, pushing the edge of her panties aside as she quickly shifted to align his thick length with her hot center. She slid down, the tight wetness of her cunt clamping down on him, and they both moaned in pleasure.

Mulder buried his face in Scully’s neck as he thrust up inside her. He held onto her hips, moving her up and down his hard cock. She groaned against the sensation, desperately needing the release that he also seemed to be hurriedly working toward. Through the material of her red dress, soaking wet and clinging to her skin, he opened his mouth over her taut nipple, suckling as he continued to pump feverishly inside her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she focused on the overwhelming pleasurable sensations coursing through her body.

This wasn’t slow, or sweet. It was wild, frantic almost. She arched, meeting him thrust for thrust, the throbbing ache at her center desperate for release. Exquisite tension coiled tighter and tighter as he thrust into her again and again, taking him deeper and deeper, straining and reaching until at last her body shook in waves of pleasure. She cried out, clenching around him. He groaned, his muscles tightened, and he shuddered against her, a long guttural moan escaping his throat as he filled her core with the heat of his release. They held each other tight for some minutes, not speaking. The only sounds that could be heard were their heavy breathing and the rain continuing to pound against the windows.

He then leaned back and gazed into her face. “When I saw you talking to him, and smiling at him, I didn’t like it.”

She gave him a sympathetic look, her brows knitting. “But we were only talking.”

His hand tangled in her wet hair. “I still didn’t like it.”

Scully looked into that sad, puppy dog expression. Her hand softly caressed his cheek.

Mulder sighed and took her hand, kissing her palm. He then stared into her face with an intense gaze. “We need to talk about William.”

Her expression hardened, her stomach going into knots of dread. “No.”


	136. "But I do have a choice about the life my son will have."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully reach a crossroads in their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MS MR - "Wrong Victory"
> 
> Rose-colored glasses, they couldn't shield anything  
> Golden flames that burned, but couldn't heal me from within  
> Disperse the heat, let the cold sweep in  
> Burst in languid light as my head and body spin
> 
> When your skin doesn't feel like home  
> And I don't wanna break down and feel alone  
> This body only knows  
> How to hold back more than it shows
> 
> A superstition that found itself in the way  
> Of a freed premonition that could've helped me escape  
> It's the wrong kind of victory, disguised as a breakthrough  
> It's hard when nothing fits like it used to
> 
> When your skin doesn't feel like home  
> And I don't wanna break down and feel alone  
> This body only knows  
> How to hold back more than it shows
> 
> Hairs on my hand stand on end  
> The spine of this truth repel and suspend  
> Act like bars, but should help me transcend  
> Hairs on my hand stand on end  
> The spine of this truth like cracks in the wind  
> Act like birds, but should help me transcend
> 
> When your skin doesn't feel like home  
> And I don't wanna break down and feel alone  
> This body only knows  
> How to hold back more than it shows

Mulder stared at the hard look she was giving him. “What do you mean? We _have_ to talk about William.”

With a look of contempt, Scully moved back, getting off his lap. She turned away from him and climbed to the front of the Jeep, getting into the passenger seat and buckling her seatbelt in silence. That look on her face filled him with dread. He sighed and leaned over to pull his boxers and black suit pants back up his legs. Once he was dressed, he grabbed her clutch purse lying in the seat beside him and handed it up to her before getting behind the steering wheel. The less than 10 minute drive through the pouring rain to the Motel 6 on Vine Street was a silent one.

Once they entered their motel room, she made a beeline straight for the bathroom without looking at Mulder.

“Scully, wait. We…”

But the door slammed shut behind her. He heaved a sigh and then approached the door, knocking. “Scully, come on. Look, I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I wish I’d never said it. I don’t care about that guy. Or any guy. Married or not. I don’t give a damn. Would you just come out of the bathroom? We need to talk.”

She stood in front of the sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror above it. She knew what he was going to want to talk about, and she had a very good idea where such a conversation would lead. Despite knowing that it would’ve happened sooner or later, she couldn’t have helped hoping that it never would. She’d been foolhardy, conveniently pushing from her mind the fact that it was in Mulder’s very nature to not only broach the subject but relentlessly pursue it.

Scully walked over to the bathroom door, where he knocked again, hoping to postpone the inevitable in order to process her thoughts and emotions about what was to happen. “Mulder, can I please have some privacy for a little while? Can I at least take a shower first?”

He breathed a sigh of relief, believing this to be a sign that she was really open to talking. “Yeah, Scully, that’s fine.”

She backed away from the door and kicked off her black heels. Her cold and trembling skin was crawling with anxiety and she desperately needed to wash it away. She peeled the wet dress from her body as well as the black satin and lace that had damply clung to her beneath it. Tears blinded her eyes, the first of many she supposed, and she bitterly wiped them away with the back of an icy hand before moving towards the tub shower. With trembling fingers, she reached for the tap and turned it on; making sure the water was as hot as possible without scalding her. She stepped inside and stood underneath the showerhead, eyes closed and not moving, just letting the stinging heat wash all over her.

How long she stood there like that, she had no idea. A storm of emotions filled her gut and frantic thoughts filled her mind. Through the tormenting thoughts running in circles within her consciousness, she was vaguely aware of intermittent sounds coming from outside the bathroom: Mulder moving about the room. She thought she also heard the muffled sound of his voice. She didn’t know nor care what he was doing, as long as he stayed out there. There would be plenty of time to endure his theories and his pleas for her cooperation that were about to come her way. These few minutes were for herself, and her alone, to try to come to terms with what could possibly happen if he refused to let it go.

A separation.

Eventually silence fell again outside in the room, a solid kind of silence that helped her focus on her own thoughts.

The loud knocking sound on the bathroom door made her jump, her feet almost slipping on the tub floor at the sound of his voice. “Scully…”

Oh God, she thought wretchedly, as Mulder’s beautiful, smiling face loomed up behind her eyelids to torment her. He couldn’t possibly do this. He just couldn’t. She tried to push her fears away, and decided to ignore him.

“Scully…”

His voice came from much closer and she opened her eyes, turning her head to stare through the thick steam permeating all around her. His hand pushed back the shower curtain and in his other she saw he held a towel at the ready.

She sighed. “What are you doing in here?” She was too anxious about other things to give much thought to her nakedness, both inside and out. The water, now starting to slowly cool, was still pouring over her.

Mulder didn’t move his gaze from her face, not even making a quick sweeping glance over her naked body. “Come on,” he said softly, holding the towel out for her. “You’ve been in there long enough.”

Long enough for what? she wondered. She chuckled, but she didn’t know why she laughed. It was a sound that fell a long way short of humor and sounded more bleak than anything. Closing her eyes, Scully turned away and lifted her face back to the shower spray.

“Hiding in here isn’t going to make it all go away, you know,” he said quietly. "We really need to talk."

Mulder’s right hand reached into the shower and turned off the water. The new silence was engulfed in steam, emanating up from the bottom of the tub, and Scully glanced down to watch it swirl around her body, coiling up her slender legs and over the rounded contours of her hips, caressing as it wound around the soft swell of her breasts.

The towel came softly about her shoulders, Mulder’s hands holding it there as he gently urged her out of the shower. She stepped over the side of the tub and he turned her into his arms. “I’m truly sorry for what I said back there in the parking lot,” he whispered sincerely. “I never should’ve said such a thing to you.”

Scully sighed, shaking her head, wrapping the towel around her. “Mulder, I don’t care about that.” She pursed her lips. “I’d like to get dressed,” she said, arching a brow and averting her eyes from his gaze, effectively dismissing him.

He nodded and stepped back from her, turning to leave the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. After drying her hair, she walked up to the sink and picked up the comb, running it through her tangles. She then grabbed her white satin robe from the hook on the door and slipped it on, pulling it tightly around herself. Opening the door, she stepped out into the room.

Still dressed in his wet clothes, Mulder was sitting at the desk, organizing stacks of X-Files cases, the ones he’d directed her to take from their former office in the FBI basement and keep hidden away in her apartment as well as a few he’d requested Skinner to remove during the trial. He hadn’t wanted to leave a single case report, a single file, involving his son in the FBI’s hands. Scully stood there silently watching him, her stomach knotting with dread.

“We really should start packing this stuff up, Mulder. We’re leaving in the morning, remember?”

He turned in his chair and watched her approach her suitcase that sat up against the wall. She unzipped it and reached for her toiletry bag. He swallowed as he turned back to the report. “I, uh, I want to stay another day. We can head out on Monday.”

She stood upright, the small bag in her hands, and stared at him. Her mind raced as she returned to the bathroom. After brushing her teeth, she reemerged into the room. He was still sitting at the desk, reading a case file, still dressed in his wet suit.

“Mulder, do you want to get sick? You should take a shower yourself and put on some dry clothes.”

He sighed and leaned back in the leather desk chair. He did feel cold and damp. Nodding, he stood up and walked over to his bag, grabbing a set of clothes and disappearing into the bathroom. Once she heard the water turn on in the shower, Scully approached the desk and looked down at the case Mulder had been reading. It was their report about Gibson Praise and what had occurred out in Phoenix, Arizona when Diana Fowley and Jeffrey Spender had technically been running the X-Files.

She sat on the bed and waited for Mulder to emerge from the bathroom. When he did, he was clad in a pair of light blue jeans and a long-sleeved gray pullover. He walked over to his bag and pulled out a pair of sneakers, slipping them on, and then returned to the desk. He continued to separate some files from the pile for a couple minutes and then he gathered them in his arms, standing up from the chair.

“Um, the front desk said I’d be able to use their copy machine, so I’ll be busy for a little while,” he said. “When I get back up here, we can, uh, talk.”

She stared at him. “Why are you making copies of our case reports?”

Mulder hesitated, swallowing. “The copies will be for Dr. Rosan. I’m meeting up with her in the morning. That’s why I don’t want to leave right away. We’ll be going over the reports, the ones that are relevant, and then she can take the copies for further study.”

“Is there anything about magnetite in those reports?” she asked.

Her tone of voice scared him, warned of danger. He swallowed again. “Well, uh, of course…”

Scully’s eyes flashed. “Is there anything about William in those reports?”

“Listen, we have to trust someone. Magnetite is the key. And a strong bio-electromagnetic field may account for William’s abilities. The answers are there for us to find. William could be the key to everything, and Dr. Rosan may be able to help us make the biological connections.”

As she stared at Mulder, the words of Jeffrey Spender came back to her as though a slap in the face. “ _They'll always know what he was. They'll never accept what he is_ _… It’ll never be over._ ” She started to shake with indignation, standing up from the bed. She took a few steadying breaths, and then erected walls of steel.

“You want to turn our son into a science experiment?”

His eyes widened. “Scully…”

She shook her head. “Is that still really all you care about? Your quest? Are the X-Files so deeply grained into your DNA that you will continue to stop at nothing to get these answers, no matter how your actions affect those you love?” She paused, taking a deep breath. “My son is normal.”

He closed his eyes, hanging his head, before dropping the stack of files back down on the desk. “How is he normal, Scully? Because Jeffrey Spender injected him with magnetite? You saw what magnetite did to them, to those Super Soldiers. Is that what happened to William? How was he even remotely like them? How was he alien?”

“Don’t… don’t do this, Mulder.” She turned away from him, staring at the wall.

“For that injection to have worked, that means it was the government who gave us a child, or the aliens. Is that what you believe, Scully? That some damn chloramine water cured your infertility in such a way that changed your biology? That you were just a government test subject for the aliens?”

She stared at the wall, breathing hard, her hands shaking. “But other women were tested on, and their babies…”

He shook his head. “William is different.”

“William is _normal_ ,” she said, turning to face him. “He is a perfectly normal, healthy child.”

“They may have been experimenting on women, attempting to create some form of organic Super Soldier, but you were not one of those women,” he said heatedly, his hands going to his hips. “Why do you think your pregnancy was so closely monitored? Why do you think they all showed up at his birth? Why do you think they were so hell bent on separating us? On destroying me? William came about without any interference from them. He is different. He is something they can’t explain. He’s a miracle. There are signs here that we need to pay attention to, Scully.”

She crossed her arms. “No, Mulder!”

He sighed. “He may not be safe, where he is. Whatever family has him now, they have no idea what they’re dealing with. His abilities aren’t just going to go away because of magnetite. He’s _not_ one of them. The aliens may still come after him, in order to use him to their own ends, and they may be forced to use more violent measures to get what they want from him.” He paused. “We have to find him, Scully. We have to get William back.”

Her eyes widened, dread filling her stomach like a heavy weight. She’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, that he wouldn’t do this. But ever since sitting through that symposium on magnetite, she had feared that he would. Tears filled her eyes. “Why? So you can use him? So our son can be your key, the answer to everything that’s in the X-Files? So Dr. Rosan will have proof of a human being with advanced physical intelligence? So our son can be poked and prodded and cut open?”

His eyes went wide with shock and he shook his head. “Whether that magnetite injection made him normal or not is beside the point. William’s biology is not what’s really important. What he stands for is important. His importance to the aliens, that they need him to aid their plans, that they need to find a way to prevent him from working against them. William might be the only way to stop them.”

She blinked, tears filling her eyes and brimming over. “You believe that prophecy, too, don’t you?”

He sighed. “Scully, I…”

She turned and walked over to her suitcase, grabbing some clothes, and walked back into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. He sat back down in the leather office chair in front of the desk, sighing and shaking his head. He crossed his arms, waiting for Scully to walk back out. He glanced at his watch; it was almost 10:00 pm. They had to reach an agreement. He had to make her see how vital it was that they find William.

Scully left the bathroom, dressed in her green sweater and black pants. He stared at her a moment, having expected her to put on pajamas. He sighed, supposing neither of them would be getting much sleep that night. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, standing up from the chair. “But I need you to listen to what I’m saying. Sooner or later, William will be found by those who only want to use him to their own evil ends or destroy him altogether. Whatever family he’s with, they have no idea of what they’re up against. They have no idea of just how important he is.”

“I will not allow my son to be used,” she said, staring at him.

Mulder breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s what I’m trying to say. We have to find him.”

She shook her head, licking her lips and averting her eyes. “You misunderstand me. William is far away from those who want to use him: the government, aliens…” She paused, and stared back at him with blue eyes filled with cold fury. “And _you_. It’s going to stay that way.”

He gaped at her in bewildered shock, as his insides began to burn bright with angry, bitter condemnation. “He’s _my_ son!” Mulder shouted. “I’m his father!”

Scully shouted right back at him. “I will not allow William’s life to be some unending X-File!” She turned and stepped over to her black leather ankle boots, slipping into them.

“Where the hell are you going?” he demanded hotly as she pulled her black jacket from the closet.

“Away from you.” She slipped into her jacket and walked over to the dresser, grabbing the keys to the Jeep.

Mulder heaved a frustrated sigh as she stepped to the motel room door. “That isn’t going to solve anything. William is a reality. Who or what he is… that’s something we need to come to terms with. It would be a failure on our part not to take this seriously when there are those far more powerful than us who do. We _have_ to find him.”

She turned to face him, her eyes filling with tears. “He is not safe with us,” she said, her voice becoming thick with emotion. “My son is normal. He is safe where he is. I gave him anonymity.” She stifled a sob. “I _have to believe_ that he’s normal, Mulder. I _have to believe_ that he’s in a good home, that he’s safe and happy. It is the _only way_ I will ever be able to get through this. Don’t you _dare_ take that away from me.”

“This is _bigger_ than our personal feelings, Scully. Much more is at stake.”

“Like what?” she asked bitterly. “The greater good?”

She wretchedly wiped away the tears from her face. She wanted to kick and scream and hit out at him again and again, but she couldn’t. She felt drained of energy. All she could do was stand there and stare at him, wondering if he felt any guilt at all over wanting to use their son as some key to stop alien invasion, colonization, as the answer to his all-important search for the truth, the answer to his quest.

Scully took a deep breath. “I can’t physically stop you from making copies of those reports and giving them to Dr. Rosan. But if you hand over anything having to do with William, I will not be here when you get back.”

Mulder’s breath caught and his eyes went wide, feeling as if she’d just struck him physically, punched him in the gut and knocked the wind out of him. He’d never expected to hear such words from her. He was frozen, unable to speak. She stared at him for a long time. Her expression was hard and angry. As her eyes filled with more tears, he also saw love, passion, pain.

She knew if she walked out the door, he’d only follow her. She had to make sure he wouldn’t. She had to say something that would ensure that he wouldn’t. “You are just like _him_. You are just like your father.”

He heaved a sigh of disbelief, shock written all over his face. “Scully, however complicit my dad was in Samantha’s abduction, I do not want the same thing for William. I’m trying to prevent that from happening!”

Her gaze turned cold and she reached for the door handle. “I wasn’t talking about _Bill_.”

Mulder blanched, his insides churning, a wounded look forming across his face. He turned away from her, hiding the overwhelming emotions starting to choke him. Scully’s hard expression softened and she bit back a sob, opening the door and quickly walking out, shutting it behind her.


	137. "Mulder, look, I can't take this! I can't live like this — as the object of some unending X-File."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulsavers - "Presence of God"
> 
> I can feel the presence of God  
> Occupying my intentions  
> In my soul, within my thoughts  
> And in ways too dreary to mention
> 
> These thoughts torment me  
> They mold and shape me  
> There’s a man that I should be  
> Or someone I could be  
> Nothing can break me, nothing that I see  
> You can’t shake me, you can’t take me  
> So set me free
> 
> I can feel the presence of God  
> In need of my attention  
> In this room and in your words  
> In too many ways to mention
> 
> These thoughts torment me  
> They mold and shape me  
> There’s a man that I should be  
> Or someone I could be  
> Nothing can break me, nothing that I see  
> You can’t shake me, you can’t take me  
> So set me free
> 
> I can feel the presence of love  
> Holding my attention
> 
> She torments me  
> Creates and shapes me  
> There’s a man that I should be  
> Or someone I could be  
> Nothing can break me, nothing that I see  
> You can’t shake me, you can’t take me  
> So set me free

Mulder listened to the door shut. He should follow Scully, walk out after her. But unlike all the other times he’d gone after her, he felt doing so this time would only make the situation worse. He wouldn’t even know what to say. He had never expected her to suggest that they ever separate, to ever suggest that she would leave him. The idea of her leaving filled his gut with panic, knots of guilt tightening as the smug face of that black-lunged son of a bitch rose up in front of him.

He sat down in the leather chair in front of the desk, leaning his elbows on his knees and burying a fist in his palm. He had little doubt that she would follow through on her word. There would be no talking her into seeing his side of things. There would be no convincing her of the matter’s importance, of the necessity of springing into action. There would be no persuading her into accepting the reality of that date that loomed ahead of them, of how little time they had to find a way to prevent that from happening. He then began to pace the room, his mind racing, his guts churning.

The truth of Scully’s words cut him at his heart. A sickening sensation filled his stomach and he sat back down in the chair. His biological father had become consumed with his bitterness and anger, consumed with an obsession, putting absolute faith in his unerring self-righteousness as he worked towards what he believed was the greater good, giving no thought to the destruction he caused to innocent lives around him, especially his wife and children. Was he just like him? Mulder wondered miserably.

When he started out, his quest was to find his sister. It was an obsession, and it consumed him. Scully followed out of loyalty and love for him, but always checking the obsession, never allowing it to wholly consume him. The voice inside his head became her voice, his conscience steering him in the right direction no matter how often he tried to buck against it. And with her help, he was finally able to learn the truth of his sister, he finally found closure. But that had not been the end of it.

The quest had become something much larger, something they could never have anticipated or imagined. From the moment of her abduction all those years ago, his quest became written into Scully’s body, through the implant in her neck, through her cancer, through her infertility, through her daughter and her son. Those events cemented their dedication to each other and their work. Before, his quest was mostly a search for Samantha but it ultimately became the larger quest of saving humanity.

Mulder thought back to that night in the motel room in Roswell. He’d hoped they would be able to save themselves. But save them from what? Alien invasion? The destruction of mankind? Maybe. What he’d truly wanted was for them not to lose hope, hope that there was an answer; that their shared quest could continue, that the world could be saved. It was clear that their quest was no longer something Scully wanted to be a part of. It filled him with frustration and anger. They couldn’t stop now, not when they were so close to finding out the truth, to truly finding a way to save themselves and the world from danger and despair.

Mulder once again paced the room for several minutes before stopping, standing with hands on his hips. His gaze fell on her suitcase against the wall. She’d left it lying open. He walked over to the bag, bending down to close it, and he noticed a cardboard box. She’d never taken it out of the suitcase as far as he could remember. He had no idea what was in it.

Lifting the lid, he was immediately greeted with the big blue eyes of his son. He gasped and held his breath for a moment, quickly realizing that the box contained pictures. He sat down on the floor, the box on his lap, and started to go through dozens of pictures of William. Some were of Scully with their son, Maggie with her grandson, Charlie and Jennifer and their kids playing with the baby, and even some pictures of William with Monica Reyes. Mulder could feel his heart breaking more and more with each new photo.

Inside the box there were also some baby clothes, including the Darth Vader newborn onesie that Mulder had been gifted by the Scully clan the Christmas before William was born. He stared at the phrase ‘Who’s Your Daddy’ emblazoned on the chest in large red letters and sighed. He set the clothes down on the carpeted floor next to him. Underneath the pictures and clothes were some papers. Every medical test ever performed was there, including the DNA results declaring Mulder to be the father. The tests were extensive and none of them revealed anything abnormal.

Underneath the tests was William’s official birth certificate. Mulder remembered his request that his name not be included, his fear over what that association might mean for his son. Those fears certainly turned out to be warranted. He heaved a deep sigh and set the birth certificate aside. His gaze then fell on a familiar piece of paper inside the box. A copy of it had been emailed to him while he’d been out in Arizona. He’d gotten it framed and hung it on the wall in the trailer he’d shared with Gibson. His heart pounded as he lifted it from the box, a lump growing in his throat, and he stared at the official document.

CERTIFICATE OF CHRISTENING

This Certifies That

William Edward Mulder Scully 

Child of Dana Scully and Fox Mulder 

Born at Democrat Hot Springs, GA  Date of birth January 1, 2001 

was christened in St. John’s Church, Alexandria, VA 

and was baptized in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit

on this 31st day of March year 2001 

A conversation suddenly came forward in his mind, the last conversation he’d had with Cancer Man before he’d become some old wise man living in the Anasazi ruins. Mulder had come home one night to find him sitting at his dining table, lighting a cigarette.

_“You expect Scully to be perfect, but she’s just a woman trying to do her best. You think I’m the Devil, but I’m just a man. A man who’s had to make some very difficult decisions over the years, but I believed I was doing what was best. There may come a day when you find yourself in love with a woman. There may also come a day when you find yourself a parent. And then I’m sure you’ll also be faced with some very difficult decisions.”_

The Smoking Man had sacrificed innocent lives, the lives of his own family, for his own quest to pursue the greater good, for a larger purpose. Mulder’s heart sank as he remembered the innocent lives that had been lost to his own quest, the painful sacrifices that had been made. He’d once tried to convince Scully that the personal cost had become too high, and that was even before they knew of William’s existence.

Their son changed everything. He was hope and fear wrapped up in a very small package. How long would his life last? The thought of William not living past the age of 12, the age when Mulder’s own life turned upside down as a child, brought him unbelievable anguish. There was a time not that long ago when he had been considered a brave man, even fearless to the point of reckless. But now, he no longer felt so brave. Having a family had made him fearful. He could now imagine far worse things than his own death. He had to make the world a better place, a safer place, for Scully and for William.

What if it truly was William’s fate to make a difference? But what about his free will to choose his path in life? How could his son make the right choices if he never learned the truth about himself? There had to be a way to find him, to get him back. If there was a chance, any chance, the world could be saved from those who wanted to destroy it, Mulder felt he had to take it.

But for Scully, the price had become too high. He knew she wanted William with her. He knew how much she wanted her son, how much pain losing him had caused her. But as far as she was concerned, the greater good had nothing to do with mankind. The greater good was whatever was best for William, even if that meant he was to be kept far away from them. How could he entrust strangers to do what was best for his son? It was all wrong. Their son belonged with them. She was not willing to risk their son’s present safety, and Mulder understood this. But she seemingly refused to acknowledge the possible dangers this meant to William’s future well-being.

Scully had drawn a line in the invisible sand between them, and he had to make a decision. He again paced the room, his son’s baptismal certificate still in his hand, desperately trying to bury images of Cancer Man that kept coming forward. The sound of his voice rang in Mulder’s ears, conversations playing out over and over. He tried to suppress them, but they were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

Was he willing to stop at nothing to achieve his goals? Even if that meant hurting the one person he loved most in the world? Even if it caused a rift between them, and fractured their trust? Or even worse, sent her away? Was that a sacrifice he was willing to make to pursue the truth? Was he willing to cast aside her feelings and concerns to get the answers he wanted, to go against her wishes in pursuit of their son? Was Scully’s happiness something he was willing to sacrifice in order to work towards a larger plan?

Mulder knew he’d be working towards that larger plan all by himself. He couldn’t do it without her. He didn’t even want to. He wouldn’t get very far on his own. He wouldn’t accomplish much. Unless he sought out allies, like Dr. Rosan, and recruited people he could trust into working on his quest. And there would be no Scully, there would be no one to check his consuming obsessiveness. The voice in his head would sound less and less like her and more like his own single-minded justifications. What would happen to his conscience? To his moral compass? He saw a future where he truly did become the man he despised, where his own unerring self-righteousness led him down a path to save the world, blind and uncaring to the destruction he was causing to those he loved.

Suddenly, Mulder remembered that dream. The dream where he abandoned his quest for creature comforts; a settled life in the suburbs with a family of his own. And he had Samantha. He had found her, and she was alive, and happy. The one thing he’d wanted every day since the moment she’d been taken from him, the one thing he’d been searching for he’d finally found. But he’d betrayed Scully in order to do so. The end result spelled disaster for the world. Why did it end in disaster? Because he’d deserted his quest, or because he’d abandoned Scully? There was a time when those two things would’ve been one and the same. It was no longer that simple. Following his quest, the larger quest that had become written in Scully’s body itself, would now take him away from her.

A long time ago, Scully became the priority above and beyond his quest for the truth, his quest for his sister, his quest to save mankind from alien invasion. Time and time again throughout the years, he’d chosen her life over finding the answers to the questions that had plagued him for more than 20 years, he’d chosen his partner over his sister. He believed without a doubt that William had to be found, that he needed to be kept safe from those that would seek to harm him; that they had to find some way to prevent the disaster that awaited them in the future.

It was becoming clear that Scully didn’t want to think about the future, that she was living life in the present, taking one day at a time. But he couldn’t do this alone. He needed her. He couldn’t live without her. She had sacrificed so much for him, had lost so much because of him, and without ever really blaming him for what she’d suffered. He wanted her to be happy, he wanted to be the one to make her happy. He could find the answer to every single question he’d ever asked, but Mulder knew he’d never be content if she was miserable.

Mulder had once told her that there had to be an end sometime and he was going to end it, that he was ready to walk away. It was a promise he’d proved to be incapable of keeping. And then their son changed everything. But Scully wanted it to end. She wanted a life. Their shared quest of saving humanity was something she could no longer carry on her shoulders. And he could never force her to.

A memory of John Doggett came forward in his mind, of sitting with him in a parked car inside the FBI garage. Mulder had been doing what he believed to be right, trying to find the truth, to find a way to stop the threat to Scully and their unborn child. But he’d been misled. He shouldn’t have been sitting in that garage, waiting for that Knowle Rohrer to show up. He should’ve been by Scully’s side for the birth of their son.

 _“_ _How long can you keep this up?”_ Doggett had asked. _“_ _How long until the next Billy Miles rears his head? The next threat? The next phantom? You ever stop to ask yourself? All the sacrifice, the blood spilled – you’ve given nearly a decade of your life. Where the hell is it all going to end?”_

Maybe it didn’t end. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to. But it was becoming obvious to Mulder that Scully wanted it to. She didn't want her life to be some unending X-File, she'd once told him. Even if that was the cards fate had dealt them, she no longer wanted to participate. How could he ask her to risk more? How could he ask her to sacrifice more, when she’d already paid the highest price imaginable? All for him. All for him and his quest, that thing he was looking for. And now she was done paying, she was done risking, she was done sacrificing. She’d had enough, and he’d certainly put her through enough.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at the certificate in his hands. If his pursuit of the truth ceased, if he laid down his desire to do something about that date staring back at him from the future, if he were to keep Scully happy, he’d never find William. He knew that for certain. Was he ready to give up searching before he’d even started? He would live out the rest of his life not finding the answers. He would go to his grave never seeing his son again, never knowing what had happened to him. Would he be okay with that? He didn’t know. Maybe he’d find out with the rest of world, when it was too late. Could he set this all aside for Scully’s sake?

Mulder could. And he would. Tears filling his eyes, he returned to the pile of documents and photos of his son. He scooped them up and placed them neatly inside the cardboard box along with the baby clothes, before setting it back inside Scully’s suitcase. He then walked over to the desk and sat down, staring at the stack of X-Files cases.

There was a time not so long ago when she’d made a personal request of him. A request that floored him, something he’d never expected to hear from her or from anyone. He’d been concerned that it could come between them, and he knew that if he agreed to such a request their work on the X-Files would come to an end and he’d never find his sister.

He’d held the power in his hands to make her happy. So without a second thought, he wholeheartedly agreed to it, knowing it would likely mean an end to his quest. He hadn’t been sure of the future then, what agreeing to her request would mean for their relationship. He hadn’t even known what she’d really been asking of him. Now that he thought about it, they never did get around to discussing what their expectations were. It had been a subject neither of them wanted to broach, no doubt in fear of what the other might say.

But now Mulder knew. She’d been dissatisfied with her life and had been ready to give up on the X-Files. She hadn’t asked him to simply be a not-so-anonymous sperm donor. She hadn’t simply wanted his genetic material and nothing more, in hopes to raise a child all on her own while he was out there pursuing X-Files cases. She’d wanted a life, she’d wanted a family. She’d wanted those things with him. It was almost a surprise that after everything that had happened in the two years since then, she still wanted those things with him.

Glancing down at the stack of X-Files, Mulder removed the case reports pertaining to his son, including events that had occurred during Scully’s pregnancy and William’s birth as well as the report on the UFO cult led by that Josepho person. With every fiber of his being, he believed that giving up was wrong. He believed they needed to find William. He believed their son was a miracle, a gift, and one that could have a far greater purpose than simply a blessing for himself and Scully, than simply an answer to their prayers. There was hope in such a possibility. He believed that they were the key to everything, that together they had the power to make a difference, that they could fight the future. But he couldn’t fight alone.

He stood up from the desk and carried the case files over to his duffel bag. With a sinking heart and a stomach churning with anxiety, he placed them back inside. Mulder then sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the pouring rain outside the window and staring at the motel room door, hoping Scully would return soon.


	138. "Look, we're always running... Why don't you ever just stay still?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully seeks out a listening ear. She and Mulder come to a resolution of sorts.
> 
> Sidenote: Thank you all for your patience! I truly appreciate all who continue to read, give kudos, and comment. It means a lot. I know it's been almost three weeks since I updated, which is quite a long time as far as this particular fic goes. But real life prevented me from devoting as much time as I normally do to writing. I hope this chapter ends up being worth the wait. And if not, well, there's a lot more to come!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping At Last – “Resolve.”
> 
> Generations wait  
> Like the river sways  
> For a father's blood  
> For a mother's love
> 
> Though not the promised land  
> Nor any perfect plan  
> Along our neutral path  
> There was a single lowered branch
> 
> What was flawless canvas-white  
> What was kindness in our eyes  
> Is now a blemished masterpiece  
> An astigmatism life
> 
> But let's cut right to the chase  
> To when the best of us was on display  
> Before we tipped the scale from confidence to doubt  
> I would hold you now if only I knew how
> 
> Concentration breaks  
> Under frivolous weight  
> If the right words exist  
> May they find our lips
> 
> Let's stay the course  
> And let the tension make us new  
> I don't know if it's virtue  
> I don't know if it's just dumb luck  
> Would it matter if it was  
> What if we welcomed change in  
> If we opened up just enough to let it begin  
> To let it begin
> 
> “The doors will open wide for you”  
> It was said just like it was the truth  
> If we walk right through

Scully drove north on Vine Street through the pouring rain, nearly blinded by tears. She had no idea where she was going. Her tears only made her angry, and made her push the gas pedal down harder. Her emotions choked her; anger, frustration, love. She had never truly expected herself to ever say those words to Mulder, to threaten to leave him. A separation of their own doing was something she couldn’t wrap her head around. It was inconceivable. But following him down the path he wanted to go would be unbearable.

Unable to see through her tears any longer, she slammed on the breaks and veered to the side of the road, coming to a screeching halt on the wet pavement. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. Her knuckles turned white as she hung her head and cried. She had never felt more alone. She couldn’t call her mother or her brothers. She couldn’t call Jennifer or Tara. She couldn’t call John or Monica. She couldn’t call Skinner. In her pained state, her mind brought memories of Melissa forward, and as fresh tears fell from her eyes, she believed she had never missed her sister more than at that moment.

Her existence consisted solely of Mulder, of only having him and no one else. She wondered if that was how her life would be from now on. She wondered at the decades of exile stretching out in front of them. Was this really what her life would be like from here on out? Aimlessly wandering from one stale motel room to another with no one but Mulder to talk to for the rest of her life? She wondered if she’d only end up circling him like a drain.

But she also knew exactly what life without him was like. It was a dull, lonely existence, and a painful one, and it was one she never wanted to experience again. But life with him came with a tremendous amount of fear. She knew that life with him put her safety at risk, and that was something she’d accepted almost from the moment they started working together all those years ago.

But there was something out there, the dangerous unknown and unknowable, which attracted Mulder like a moth to a flame, and an obsession that might not ever go away. The darkness took him from her, more than once, and their son had been sacrificed to keep that darkness from overtaking him as well. She wanted it kept as far away from them as possible. But she feared that this darkness was also what fueled Mulder’s obsessions, his passions, and his unquenchable desire to solve, to fix, to save. That 12 year old child was still inside him, the boy who had been desperate to fix his family and save his sister. But she was afraid that if they let a door open, that darkness would swallow them up once again and she would be powerless to fight it off.

She felt like a tired, battered soldier, weary of war and longing to return to the comfort and safety of home. But she had no home. Not anymore. There was nowhere to go. There was no comfort. There was no safety. She wanted a home. She wanted a life that was once again comfortable and safe. She doubted whether this could ever be attainable. Even if it were possible, she doubted whether the comfortable and safe would ever be a life that appealed to Mulder.

Scully finally lifted her tear-stained face and her eyes fell on the brightly lit sign for the Holiday Inn hotel. After staring at the sign for several moments, she sniffed and wiped the tears from her face. She wondered if Joe would be there or if he was still back at the banquet. She took a deep breath, and after checking her mirrors, she put her signal on and pulled back onto the road.

Not long after she was turning left into the Holiday Inn parking lot. After the Jeep was parked and the engine cut off, she ran through the windy air and the pouring rain towards the hotel entrance. As she made her way to the front desk, she had no real idea what she was doing. She just needed to see a familiar face, a friend.

“May I help you?” asked the front desk clerk as he looked up from his computer monitor.

“Um, yes… is there a Joseph Lohman staying here?” she asked.

The young man smiled. “Let me check that for you.” He returned to the computer. After a moment, he smiled again. “Yes. One Dr. Joseph Lohman is staying with us.”

She nodded. “Could you let him know that…,” Scully paused. Should she use her real name or a fake one? Was she herself, or was she someone else? She wasn’t sure. Tears filled her eyes and she swallowed. “Could you tell him that Dana is here and would like to speak with him?”

“Sure thing,” he replied. The clerk then got on the phone and dialed the room number. To her relief, Joe picked up the phone and the clerk proceeded to give him her message. After hanging up the receiver, he addressed her once again. “Dr. Lohman said that he’d like you to come up but he requests that you wait 15 minutes. Room 330.”

“Thank you,” replied Scully. She then walked over and sat down in one of the two large couches in the lobby area that were situated in front of a fireplace. She sighed in relief at the warmth of the flames behind the metal grate and checked her watch. It was almost 10:30. She nervously wrung her fingers while she waited. The next 15 minutes seemed like an eternity, and many times she fought the urge to bolt from the hotel.

At 10:45 pm, she stood up from the couch and walked over to the elevators with a knotted stomach. At the top floor, she stepped out of the elevator compartment and made her way down the hall towards room 330. As she lifted her hand to knock on the door, she realized she was trembling. She wasn’t sure whether it was the cold and damp from the rain, or if it was from nerves; maybe both.

Scully knocked on the hotel room door.

“All right,” she heard the muffled reply from inside the room. “Just a minute.”

She was going to be calm. She just needed someone to talk to. But she had no idea what she needed to say. Should she talk openly about Mulder? Should she talk about her son? Should she talk about everything they’d been through in the past two years? The past nine? What would she even say? How could she ever explain what her life truly was? And who would ever even begin to understand it?

Joe opened the door. He was wearing jeans, no shirt, and he was rubbing a towel against his wet hair. The jeans were unbuttoned, even though they were zipped. He’d obviously tugged them on in a hurry. He grinned. “I honestly thought I was never going to see you again,” he said, stepping aside and opening the door wider to let her in. “I’m so glad you reconsidered.”

She stared at his torso, at the little drops of water beading on smooth, toned muscle. She shouldn’t have come. He obviously thought this visit was something else.

“Helloo-ooo?” Joe waved a hand in front of her face. “So are you coming in, or what? The mini bar is just waiting for us to raid it.” He winked, and grinned at her again.

She tried to ignore the way her stomach tightened and her pulse elevated, but there was no doubt that her fight-or-flight response was kicking in. She had to leave. But then what? Where would she go? Would she just drive around aimlessly with only her suffocating thoughts for company? Should she just go back to the motel? The thought of facing Mulder after what she’d said to him turned her stomach.

He gazed at Scully, taking in her appearance. She looked wet all over from the rain. Her eyes were red and her face was blotchy. “Dana, what’s wrong? Has something happened?”

“Everything’s happened,” she replied, and swallowed against the lump now starting to form in her throat as tears welled up in her eyes.

He looked at her sadly and sighed, before reaching for her and pulling her inside the room. After he shut the door behind them, she glanced around the suite. Just inside the door there was a closet on one side, and a counter on the other with a microwave and coffee maker. Below that was a mini refrigerator. She walked past it to the living area where there was a couch with a table facing a large flat screen television on the wall across from it. Beyond this area she noticed the end of a king-sized bed in the other half of the room. Just another bland hotel room, not much different from the countless others she’d seen.

“You sit down,” Joe instructed. “I’ll go put on a shirt and then I’ll make a pot of coffee. How does that sound?”

“It sounds fine,” she said, and sat down on the beige-colored couch. She unzipped her black jacket and laid it across the sofa arm, before pushing the damp strands of her blonde hair behind her ears.

He returned to the living area as he pulled a red t-shirt over his head. She watched his abdomen disappear behind it. He then quietly stood at the counter and fixed a pot of coffee. He grabbed two white mugs and opened the mini fridge, taking out a small dish of packaged creamers. After pouring the piping-hot coffee, he turned and asked Scully if she still took cream, and she nodded in the affirmative. After adding creamer to her mug, and turned to walk back over to the couch.

She gave him a half smile as he handed her the coffee. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, moving to sit down next to her.

She gingerly held the hot mug between her hands, not wanting to burn herself. Silence filled the room.

He took a sip of his coffee and then set it down on the table in front of them. “So… what made you come over here?”

“I don’t know, really,” she said, staring down at her mug. “I was driving and I saw the hotel sign. It was an impulsive decision.”

“And why were you out driving in the pouring rain after ten o’clock at night?” he asked, giving her a curious look. “Did something happen with Mulder?”

She didn’t answer, and took a sip from her mug of hot coffee instead. He waited for her to speak, knowing it would be pointless to push her into talking. The room became silent once again as she stared at the wall in front of her.

“I have a son,” Scully finally said.

Joe smiled. “Yeah? How old is he?”

She sighed. “One year, three months, and 13 days.”

He nodded as he took in this information. “Your partner, Mulder, he’s the father?”

“Yes.”

“Did you bring your kid out here to Kansas with you?”

She shook her head. She swallowed, hesitating. “I don’t know where he is.”

His eyes widened with shock. “What… what do you mean? What happened to him?”

“Do you know what it was that I did at the FBI?” she asked him, putting off having to answer his question right away.

He furrowed his brows, not understanding how that was related. “Um… I know you went into pathology, of all things. And then I knew you’d gotten a partner named Fox Mulder and worked cases, based on what I would read in the newspaper from time to time. But, uh… no, not really.”

She nodded and took another sip of her hot coffee. “My job was to ask the questions that no one wanted to ask; to find the answers that others wanted to keep hidden. Our work opened doors, which led to other doors… and for the longest time there was seemingly no end to it in sight. But asking these questions, looking for these answers, and opening these doors led to incredibly dangerous situations and… painful sacrifices.”

She sighed. “My sister was murdered, and Mulder’s father.”

“Oh, my God,” Joe replied, his mouth falling open.

“I also had a daughter, years ago; who I had known nothing about until it was too late. She also suffered and died at the hands of these men. She was just three years old.”

He had no idea what to say to all that and reached down towards the table for his coffee mug. The room filled with silence yet again as they sat side by side, sipping their coffee. He finished his mug first, and set it back down on the table before turning slightly towards her.

Scully stared down at the cup she held in her lap. “For a long time, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to have children. I thought that opportunity had been stolen from me. I’ll never be able to explain how exactly my son came about. Do you believe in miracles?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “But they probably happen every day. Small ones that people just don’t notice.” He wanted to ask her just how it was possible she could have a daughter and not even know, or what she meant by the opportunity being stolen. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to know all the terrible things that must’ve happened to her.

“When was the last time you were really and truly happy?” she asked.

He sighed, and thought for a moment. “Honestly… the first few years of my marriage.”

She looked over at him. “That was a long time ago.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “But I was also very happy when I first saw you earlier tonight.” He smiled. “And when was the last time for you? It really doesn’t sound like you’ve had all that much to be happy about.”

She turned her head, averting her eyes from his. “There were times when I was very happy. The spring before I found out I was pregnant with my son. The last couple months of my pregnancy. The first week or so after my son was born.” She paused. In those weeks before the attack in the Colorado cabin, there had been times when she’d felt flickers of hope that some form of happiness could again be hers, but those moments were brief and transitory.

“What happened to your son?” asked Joe quietly.

Scully leaned forward to set her coffee mug down on the table in front of her, before once again playing with her fingers. “Mulder was… gone at the time. And I had to protect our son the only way I knew how. He was… adopted. I don’t know who, I don’t know where.”

He heaved a sigh, shaking his head. “Sounds like you would’ve been much better off had you never gotten involved with this Mulder.”

“There have been many times when I wanted to blame him, when I _did_ blame him, for how miserable I was,” she said, her voice starting to become thick with emotion. “But I can’t blame him any more than I can blame myself. Things just happened. I made my choices. I chose to work with him. I chose to have a relationship with him. I don’t regret those things. I never will.”

“But why stay with him now?” he asked, furrowing his brows in disbelief. “After everything you’ve been through, do you really need to run around posing as Angela? Or whoever else it might be tomorrow? Why don’t you just give up and move on with your life? I know you always need a rational explanation behind everything you do, but there will never be one as long as you stay with him.”

She swallowed hard, and tears filled her eyes. “Love isn’t rational,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “Or convenient or practical.” She then chuckled through her tears. “Maybe that’s why I avoided it for so long. But, um…” Her voice choked. “I don’t know what’s going to happen now.”

He reached out and brushed her damp blonde hair behind her shoulder, before gently placing his hand on her back. “Maybe you should take some time to think about what would be best for you. You know, uh, there’s a nice bed over there. You’re more than welcome to stay.”

She could feel the warmth of his hand through her green sweater, a stark contrast to the chill she felt. “No, I’m not staying. I need to get back. I don’t want Mulder to worry.”

He scoffed contemptuously, shaking his head. “Maybe he should worry.”

Scully turned to look at him, frowning. “You don’t know him, Joe. Mulder is a good man.” She sighed, grabbing her black jacket from the arm of the couch, and stood up. “I have to get going.”

He nodded silently as he stood and made to follow her to the door. She shrugged on the damp jacket and shivered as she zipped it up. She opened the door and stepped out, before turning back to look at her old friend. “You will go see my mother in Alexandria this summer, won’t you? And you’ll tell her I’m all right? And that Mulder wasn’t with me? That I was alone and that we’d… separated?”

He gave her a pointed look. “ _Are_ you going to separate, Dana?”

She chewed her bottom lip as hot tears began to prick her eyes. She swallowed against the lump growing in her throat. “Thanks for the coffee, and listening,” she said, avoiding his question.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, sighing. “I hope you know that you can call on me anytime. You know where to look me up.”

She gave him a half smile and nodded silently, before turning and walking away from the hotel room door. It closed and locked before she reached the elevators.

*****

It was close to 11:30 pm as Scully stood in front of the door to the motel room she shared with Mulder. Her stomach was doing somersaults, her pulse was racing. She had no idea of the emotional state he would be in. She had no idea if a huge fight was waiting for her on the other side of this door. She’d said something to him before she’d left; something to purposely hurt him. She’d also threatened to leave him behind. She felt sick. She’d never expected herself to say that to him. For so long, her only wish had been to have him back. Living without him had been beyond bearing.

But what if he wouldn’t let go, if he wouldn’t leave the darkness behind? What if he believed the greater good that was his quest to be of the utmost importance, over anything and anyone else? What if it took precedence over their relationship, over their son’s safety? Then what would she do? Did she really have the strength to dig in her heels and refuse to follow him? To walk away from him?

With a quivering lip and eyes filling with tears as she remembered the stunned and hurt look on his face, she inserted the room key into the door. It immediately unlocked, and taking a deep breath, she opened it softly.

Mulder, who had been sitting on the end of the bed and staring at the floor, anxiously awaiting her return, abruptly stood and watched her enter the room. She shut the door behind her and locked it, before stepping further into the room. A quick sweeping glance told her that most of their stuff had been packed away. There were no longer stacks of X-Files cases and periodicals crowding the desk.

Her eyes then met his, and their gaze held. His expression was somber, gloomy. They stood silently, waiting for the other to speak. She felt as if her life could easily unravel beyond recognition at any moment. She’d never felt so fragile, never needed anyone – him, only Mulder – to hold her so badly. At this moment, she realized just how much she’d invested in him, in the promise of a life entwined with his. She feared it could all become undone if she said the wrong thing, if he said the wrong thing.

“I never wanted to be in this position,” she whispered tearfully. She could feel herself becoming overwhelmed with emotion and was trying hard to fight it back.

He felt tears welling up in his own eyes. His stomach was one tight knot. He paused, his voice catching. “I love my son,” he finally choked out. “I don’t want to see him hurt or harmed in any way, and certainly not by me. I hope you believe that.”

There was a hollow sadness in his voice, and deep in his eyes she sensed a painful vulnerability that echoed within her. She could no longer fight back her overwhelming emotions. She couldn’t speak as the sobs broke free from her chest, and she quickly moved towards him, pressing her face against him and wrapping her arms around his waist. Her ear was pressed to his chest, the rise and fall of his breath and his calm heartbeat steady against her skin.

He stroked her cheek and hair, murmuring apologies. There was no emotion in his voice, for it sounded dismal and empty to her ears. Even the way his arm came around her felt artificial. She’d almost prefer it if he shouted or screamed, if he’d pick up the closest object and throw it across the room, if he’d push her away. She’d prefer outbursts of anger and emotion over the strong sense of failure and defeat that she now felt was emanating from him. She raised her head from his chest and took a step back to look up at him. His expression was blank, his eyes dark with pain and sorrow.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you,” she said. “You know I love you, right? More than anything. But I don’t know… maybe ‘all you need is love’ isn’t true. Maybe that’s not enough. I just want us to be happy.”

“Scully, when have things ever been that simple for us?”

She nodded slowly in acceptance of the truth of what he’d said, averting her eyes. “I know. But simple would be nice for a change.”

He then brought his hands up to her face, gently brushing her tears away. “What do you really want, Scully?” he asked in a low voice. “Tell me what it is that you want, that you need. I’ll do anything.”

“I know the dangerous situation we’re in, and I’ve accepted the fact that safety isn’t something we’ve been blessed with,” she replied. She then looked up and their eyes held once again. “But I want something simple, something safe. I want a life, a _real life_ , and a real home. Even if it seems impossible, I want something as close to normal as the two of us can manage.”

In that small window of time after Mulder miraculously came back to her following his abduction, and what she had thought was his death, Scully had started to imagine what it would mean to have her partner and their son under the same roof. She’d allowed herself to imagine what it would mean to have a family of her own. During the time he had gone into hiding she’d still occasionally allowed herself the dream of normalcy, a hope for domesticity when he would return to her and their son.

There were no more monsters, human or otherwise, no more corrupt government agents. Instead, their lives were filled with lazy Saturday mornings in bed, Sundays spent with her mother, Charlie and Jennifer and their kids, trips to the park, romantic dinners, and quiet evenings; their lives were filled with William, and they were a real family. It was a life that wasn’t meant to be. Without their son, the word ‘family’ now seemed strange to her. But she hoped that one day it would feel natural, that both she and Mulder could find a peaceful, content existence that only consisted of the two of them.

She knew what she wanted was likely both improbable and impossible. She doubted whether the government would ever stop their hunt for them. She doubted whether the X-Files was something Mulder could truly give up on. She kept her gaze steady, not breaking eye contact as she waited for his reply. She felt as if her heart was in her throat.

His hands moved to hold her upper arms as he gazed down at her. “I’ll do everything in my power to give you the life you want, Scully.” His words were smoother than butter, softer than oil, but a silent war was raging in his heart.

She heaved a sigh, letting out the breath she’d been holding, and embraced him. “I’m so sorry about what I said earlier,” she said tearfully, her voice again becoming thick with emotion. “You’re nothing like him, not in the ways that truly matter.”

“You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” he admitted.

She again heard the hollow sadness in his tone. “It wasn’t true. You know I don’t believe that about you.”

He sighed. “But it could easily become true, and that’s almost the same thing.”

“I know I hurt you,” she said, trying to blink back her tears.

“Well, it was definitely your turn,” he replied. “I’ve hurt you enough to last a lifetime. Several lifetimes.”

She looked up at him, her expression filled with sadness. “Mulder, don’t do that. I’m not keeping score. And neither should you.”

He nodded, but didn’t reply. She let go of his waist and stepped back from him. He turned and looked at his luggage, packed up and against the wall. “I’m not going to see Dr. Rosan. We can leave first thing in the morning, and then we can go anywhere you want.”

“Well, we’re still checked into the suite in Salina, so we should head there first. We can figure out what to do from there.”

“Oh, right. I forgot. Yeah, let’s do that.”

Mulder and Scully then quietly got ready for bed, and the room became silent with exception to the sounds of their movements and bags unzipping. After she got into a pair of her satin pajamas, she climbed into the right side of the bed. He soon slipped into bed beside her, before turning and shutting out the lamp on the bedside table. He then laid with his back to her, resting his head on the cool fabric as he stared out at the wall. “Where did you go when you left here?” he asked in a low voice.

She turned and gazed at his back, covered in one of his white undershirts, and a sinking feeling came over her. “I went to see Joe Lohman. I talked for a little while, had a cup of coffee, and then came back.”

“Okay.” He truly didn’t know what to think about that.

The room fell silent again. There was no sound at all except for their breathing. She thought of her argument with him earlier, she thought of her conversation with Joe, and all that had run through her head in the last few hours. As she stared at Mulder’s back, she worried that whatever improbable, unseen force that had pulled them together could just as easily pull them apart if they let it.

“Do you think we’ll ever undo all this?” she whispered in the dark.

“What do you mean?”

She sighed. “Us. You and me. Could we ever undo it?”

He furrowed his brows. “Do you want to?”

“No, of course not,” she replied. “But… I think it’s a logical question.”

He paused, considering what she’d said. “I don’t think there’s a logical answer.”

As she grew quiet, struggling to figure out what he could mean by that, he also laid in silence, still keeping his back to her. He wondered where along the way he was supposed to have prepared for someone like Scully to enter his life, and the desperate way he loved her, needed her. He pondered why, when, and how. There was no real answer, no explanation. It just was. He’d given her complete, unrestrained access to his heart long ago, and he should’ve realized long ago that it would be impossible to live with two obsessions. He couldn’t do right by both. Choices had to be made. He hoped he was making the right one.

“Are we okay?” she whispered, breaking the silence. “Or… will we be okay?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

She paused, hesitating. Her stomach was going into knots. Hurting him was just as painful to her as it had no doubt been to him. “I… I threatened to leave you.”

He sighed. “It wasn’t the first time.” He wondered if it would be the last, but he kept that sullen thought to himself.

“This is different, Mulder, and you know it. Can you forgive me?”

“You didn’t leave, Scully. You’re here.”

She stared at the back of his head, fear and guilt knotting her stomach even tighter. “Yes, I’m here. But is that enough for you?”

He closed his eyes. “Is that all you’re willing to give me?”

“No, _no_ , of course not. But… I just don’t think this is enough for you.”

He knew how he felt. He knew the truth. But he also knew what she needed to hear. “As long as I have you, it’s enough.”

She doubted whether he was being completely honest with her. She reached her hand out towards him, wanting to touch him, longing for some reassurance, whether given or received. But when her fingers were just inches from his back, she drew her hand away, her brows knitting sadly. She chided herself for having used an ultimatum to get what she wanted, for forcing his hand. Neither spoke again, and soon their eyes closed and their breathing slowed.

While they slept, peaceful dreams of their son had provided illusory comfort and happiness, smothering their hopelessness with belief and promise. But no sooner had they awoken and dressed for the day than they could feel their emptiness, the barren loneliness clutching at their hearts. As they drove back towards Salina early on Sunday morning, Scully frequently glanced over at Mulder and what she observed was far from comforting. He was a man sad and crushed, dark clouds of anguish resting on his brow, the gloom of deep sorrow darkening his face as he continually looked away from her.


	139. "You do keep me guessing."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While on their way to New Orleans, Scully's anxiety gets the better of her and she makes an impromptu phone call. She sets out to find ways to surprise Mulder.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping At Last - "Mercury"
> 
> Rows of houses sound asleep  
> Only street lights notice me  
> I am desperate, if nothing else  
> In a holding pattern to find myself
> 
> I talk in circles, I talk in circles  
> I watch for signals for a clue  
> How to feel different, how to feel new  
> Like science fiction, bending truth
> 
> No one can unring this bell  
> Unsound this alarm, unbreak my heart new  
> God knows, I am dissonance  
> Waiting to be swiftly pulled into tune
> 
> I’ll go anywhere you want  
> Anywhere you want  
> Anywhere you want me
> 
> I know the further I go  
> The harder I try, only keeps my eyes closed  
> And somehow I’ve fallen in love  
> With this middle ground at the cost of my soul
> 
> Yet I know, if I stepped aside  
> Released the controls, you would open my eyes  
> That somehow, all of this mess  
> Is just an attempt to know the worth of my life
> 
> Made of precious metals  
> Precious metals  
> Precious metals inside
> 
> I’ll go anywhere you want me

Early on Sunday evening, April 14th, Scully was sitting cross-legged on the bed in their room at the Candlewood Suites in Salina, Kansas, looking through the 2002 Rand McNally Road Atlas that Mulder had picked up a few weeks back. She found she had grown tired of these places in the middle of nowhere, with small rural populations and where everything in town closed up by 10:00 pm. She missed the city. She wanted to go somewhere warm, eager to get away from the cold spring rain currently pouring down on Kansas, which the local weatherman had predicted to last almost all week.

Anywhere warm would be in the southerly direction. The only question was, which city? She flipped through the pages in the paperback book, hoping to come across a place that seemed appealing to her. She could hear the muffled sound of basketball on the television in the living area, and wondered if Mulder would now have any suggestions on where to go. He hadn’t when she’d asked him earlier, and had reminded her that he would go wherever she wanted. He didn’t say another word on the subject, and again grew quiet. He planted himself on the couch in the living room of the suite and turned on the TV, not saying much since.

She got up off the bed and walked out of the room, carrying the paperback road atlas with her. She turned into the living area and looked at Mulder sitting on the couch. She glanced at the television.

“Who’s playing?” she asked.

“The Knicks game is about to start,” he replied without looking at her. “Playing Miami.”

Scully nodded her head and thrust her tongue into the side of her cheek. She then walked over and sat down next to him on the couch, opening the book once again. She continued to flip through the pages. She stopped every so often and read a little on the page. “How about Dallas?”

He turned and gave her a blank stare. “The last time we were there a building blew up and we were blamed for it.”

“So what are you saying? Bad memories?” She smirked. He blinked, and then returned his attention to the television. She sighed. “I still have no idea why they thought it was our fault. If we hadn’t been inside the right building, everyone there would have probably died.”

“The FBI can go to hell,” replied Mulder.

She snorted. “That’s the spirit.”

He made no reply, trying to focus his attention on the television screen. It was proving useless. He couldn’t stop thinking about William, and his failures as a father. He believed that in giving up his quest, on the hope to search for his son, he was failing him once again. But maybe Scully had been right. How much like his own father, or Cancer Man, could he turn out to be if he wasn’t careful? Maybe it was in William’s best interests that he stay as far away from him as possible. But the very thought crushed him, and turned his stomach. What if his son was in trouble and needed his help? And there he was, just sitting on this couch watching basketball when he knew he really should be doing something else.

“Houston? San Antonio? Oklahoma City? Little Rock? Memphis?”

“Those are just places, Scully. They’re not plans.”

She pursed her lips. “I think the only plan we can handle right now is to just avoid getting arrested or killed.” She flipped through a few more pages until something caught her eye. “Did you ever read anything by Lafcadio Hearn?”

He glanced at her, brows furrowing. “Um… yeah. I’ve read some of his books on Japanese legends and ghost stories. Why?”

“Did you know he also wrote about New Orleans?” she asked, looking down at the road atlas.

“No, but that doesn’t surprise me. The place has plenty of superstitious legends. So what does he say about it?”

She smiled. “He says that the beauty of New Orleans is evident in its women’s ‘exquisite perfume of the South, the breath of orange flowers.’” As she read the quote aloud, her voice became deeper and more musical. She then sighed and turned the page, silently reading. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

He turned to look at her. “There’s nothing preventing us from going. We can leave first thing in the morning. Or we can leave right now. Whatever you want to do.”

“I don’t want it to be _whatever I want to do_ ,” she replied with some frustration. “You’re in this too, Mulder.”

“Hmm,” was his only reply.

Her stomach knotted at his sullen and withdrawn demeanor, and she wondered how long it would last. “We should go somewhere we both would like.”

He licked his lips, nodding quietly, and then turned back to the television. “I’ve got nothing against New Orleans.”

“Okay, great,” she said briskly, her tone dripping with sarcasm, before rolling her eyes and standing up from the couch. She walked off back to the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

*****

On Monday morning, Mulder and Scully checked out of their suite just before 10:00 and departed Salina. After driving approximately 95 miles south on highway I-135, they crossed state lines into Oklahoma. Not long after they had passed the border, they found a town just off the highway to fill the gas tank and then stopped at Chuck Wagon Diner for lunch. Once they’d finished their meal, they turned onto a quiet rural road and again changed license plates on the Jeep before getting back onto the highway.

The drive through Oklahoma was a quiet one, as they were both lost in their own thoughts. Scully wanted to talk, but she didn’t really know what to talk about. She also wasn’t sure whether talking would do any good, and if it would only lead to frustration, as Mulder still seemed sullen and unwilling to communicate. He’d responded to all her earlier statements and questions with as few words as possible, and sometimes only with monosyllables. It didn’t take long for her to give up any efforts to make conversation.

At 7:05 pm, Mulder exited the highway and they drove into Paris, Texas to stop for the night. After renting a room at the Paris Inn Express, Scully sat at the desk and looked through the phone book. She then picked up the telephone receiver and called a local pizza place, ordering delivery to their motel room.

She hung up the receiver and looked over at her partner, sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard, flicking through television channels.

“Hopefully the delivery guy doesn’t try to exsanguinate us,” she said, giving him a slight smirk. “We are in Texas, after all.”

He didn’t reply, seemingly preoccupied with absentmindedly searching through channels on the TV. She pursed her lips and arched an eyebrow in his direction. “I think when he gets here with the pizza, I’m gonna answer the door naked. How does that sound?”

Mulder blinked, furrowing his brows, and turned his attention away from the television to look at her. “What?”

She closed her eyes, shaking her head, before standing up and heaving a sigh. “The cash for the pizza and the tip is here on the desk.”

He’d turned back to the TV. “Okay.”

Not long after, their pizza arrived and they ate in front of the TV. For the rest of the evening, they watched _Everybody Loves Raymond_ and _Becker_. Neither of them paid much attention to what was on the screen, as Scully simultaneously perused through the road atlas book, studying the map of Louisiana, and Mulder’s thoughts dwelt on his son.

When the local news came on at 11:00 pm, she got up from her seat in the tan cushioned armchair in the corner of the room. She stared at him for a moment, and then gathered some things from her bags before disappearing behind the bathroom door. Twenty-five minutes later she reappeared, dressed in a pair of white cotton panties and a light blue tank top, to find the room almost completely dark except for a small amount of light coming from the parking lot filtering in from behind the curtains.

Mulder was lying down in bed, flat on his back with one arm draped over his stomach. She thought he appeared to be asleep. She walked around to the right side of the bed and stopped beside it, thinking for a moment before slipping in beside him under the covers. As she moved to slide over, in hopes to regain her usual spot nestled up against him, he abruptly turned so that his back was to her. For the third night in a row, he was pushing her away.

Scully felt angry at first, thinking that he was shutting her out when she wanted to be closer to him, wondering whether he was shutting her out because he was holding recent events against her. The more he sulked, the more hurt she felt. But she knew that was how he sometimes thought things out, that was how he was. Sometimes he needed to be on his own, to be alone with whatever conflict he was battling internally.

It hadn’t been easy for Mulder to let her in, to allow her to get close to him, in the first place. She knew that now. He’d allowed her glimpses of his inner self, where all others had been denied. Others had been kept out, even his family members, and she was let in. She had been fascinated to be allowed into his quietness, into his solitary existence, to get closer to him, and share in a work that had been so singularly important to him. She knew he loved her, and that she could get close to him while no one else could. Close and closer. There had been frustrating times over the years when she’d thought it was too close. But he had looked deep into her eyes and pulled her to him, silently pleading with her to understand him when no one else had ever truly been able to.

“You ready to talk to me yet?” her voice sounded out in the dark.

He stared at the wall, hesitating. “It’s not that I’m ready or not ready… I just don’t know what to say, Scully.”

“What if you just tell me what you’re thinking about?” she suggested kindly, her voice just above a whisper.

He honestly had been unable to sort through his feelings, let alone put them into words. He believed without a doubt that he was doing the right thing by her. But he wasn’t sure whether that could be said for his son, or their future. He also wasn’t sure whether this was something she’d want to listen to. He moved to lie on his back, turning his head to look at her. His gaze was much sadder than she’d expected it to be.

“Let’s just go to sleep, Scully. I’m tired. We have a long day of driving tomorrow. We both could use some sleep. I’ll be here in the morning when you wake up.”

 _Yeah, so will everything else,_ she thought as she watched Mulder turn to lie on his side again, keeping his back to her.

*****

On Tuesday morning, Mulder and Scully departed Paris, Texas. Three hours later they arrived in Shreveport, Louisiana, where they once again changed license plates on their vehicle and filled the gas tank. After the tank was filled, they stopped for lunch at Whataburger, a 1950’s fast food chain. At the counter, Mulder ordered a bacon and cheese burger with French fries for himself while Scully chose a garden salad.

Once they received their food, they walked to a table near the back. They sat close while facing each other, eating and saying very little. Scully watched a family that were sitting close by to the left of their table. The father sat attentive to his youngest daughter’s curiosity. She looked no older than five years of age. The mother, who sat opposite her husband, silently gazed into the small compact mirror that she had removed from her purse. The other three children sat quietly as they ate their meal, conscious of displaying their best behavior under their mother’s occasional hawk-like glances in their direction.

She watched the mother’s show of discipline and the father’s genuine gaze of affection on the young girl with the dark blonde pigtails, and she suddenly felt lonely for her home in Virginia. She missed her mother, her brothers, her sister, and her father. It pained her to feel thankful that her dad hadn’t lived long enough to see how her life had turned out. How angry and heartbroken he would have been. She turned her head back to look at Mulder, chewing on a French fry, and sighed. She started to slide her hand across the table towards his, but before she could reach her destination he lifted his large cup of iced tea. She sighed again and pulled her hand away.

It was almost 1:00 pm when they walked out of Whataburger and started to make their way through the parking lot towards their blue Jeep Wrangler. The longer her partner went without reaching for her hand, placing his on the small of her back, on a shoulder, or through her hair, the more aware Scully became of the absence of these small actions. The more sullen and withdrawn he became, the more she couldn’t really understand. Was this really about not pursuing his magnetite theory and a way to prevent that preposterous invasion date? She knew he was feeling many more and much deeper feelings than he was currently expressing to her, but she wondered if those feelings were slowly pulling him away from her. A knot of fear began to tighten in the pit of her stomach.

As they approached their vehicle, Mulder noticed a family getting out of the silver Toyota Camry parked next to the Jeep. The husband waited by the trunk of the car while his wife got their child out of the backseat. After she shut the door, she carried a small boy towards her spouse. He guessed the kid was perhaps about two years old, maybe a little younger. The man had black hair and dark eyes, his wife’s hair was long and dark brown. The child who earnestly reached out for his father to hold him had red hair, a freckled face, and blue eyes. The boy looked nothing like them. As the family walked towards the Whataburger entrance, he stared after them, his mouth going dry. It was with untold relief that the blue eyes looking back at him were unfamiliar.

“Mulder? You going to unlock the doors?”

He turned around and saw that Scully was on the other side of the Jeep, standing by the passenger side door. It appeared that she hadn’t noticed the family he’d just observed, for which he felt grateful. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys, clicking the button on the keyless entry remote and unlocking the doors. A few minutes later, he merged onto highway I-49 South.

Two hours later, Mulder pulled off the highway at a rest stop near the city of Alexandria. When he finished using the restroom, he waited by the doors for Scully to join him. It wasn’t long before he watched her emerge from the women’s room and then they walked out of the building together. As they neared the Jeep, he handed her the keys.

“Do you mind driving?” he asked. “I’m feeling tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“No, of course not,” she replied.

Once she climbed into the driver’s side, she adjusted the seat and mirrors before putting the gear into reverse and backing out of the parking space. Moments later they were merging back onto the highway. He yawned as they passed a sign stating that it was 90 miles to Lafayette. “So how much longer till we reach New Orleans?”

“Um…,” she paused as she thought of the Louisiana section of the road atlas she’d been studying for most of the day. “It’s over 200 miles from here, roughly. Probably three and a half hours if we don’t stop.”

He nodded and then turned his body slightly towards the window, resting his head against the seat and closing his eyes. She sighed as she glanced over at him, before turning back to watch the road. Her facial expression was one of knitted brows and worry.

*****

At 4:30 pm, Scully approached the city of Lafayette. She looked over at Mulder, asleep in the passenger seat. Her stomach was in a knot. Their emotional connection was once again strained, and she wondered if they’d ever truly be able to go back to how they used to be. Their son had opened up a future that was a promise of something better than what had previously laid in front of them, but that future was taken away from them.

She started to worry that by preventing Mulder from chasing after that future no matter what the cost, he would now start to blame her for their loss. She worried that blame would turn into resentment at what was taken from him, and that resentment would turn to anger. Would they be forced to relive their painful recollections of a past that brought them nothing but heartache? Would they ever really be able to let go? Or were they forever going to live in their memories, with a happy future always out of reach? She worried it would cause an unnecessary rift between them that could break them apart.

Highway I-49 came to an end inside the Lafayette city limits and Scully drove into the city to look for a place to make a quick stop. Seeing a sign for a Walmart Supercenter, she turned left onto Evangeline Throughway and made her way over to the store. After she found a parking space and cut the engine, Mulder stirred. He opened his eyes and looked over at her.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“In a Walmart parking lot in Lafayette,” she replied. “I’m going to run in and use the bathroom, get a bottle of water. Do you want to come in? It’ll be good to get out and stretch your legs.”

He sighed and shrugged, before turning back towards the window and resting his head against the seat. She stared at him for a moment and then opened the car door, sliding out with brows knitted in worry. After using the restroom, she found herself walking aimlessly from aisle to aisle, in no rush to return to her sullen partner out there in the parking lot. As she walked through the store, she remembered that family back at the fast food place in Shreveport. More than anything, she wanted to see her family, or at least talk to them.

She came upon the electronics department and her eyes zeroed in on the shelves of cellular phones. In that moment, she made an impulsive decision. She went over to the display of phones, where a Walmart employee approached her.

“Can I help you find what you’re lookin’ for?” she asked in a friendly tone.

Scully turned and gave the woman with the blonde ponytail a little smile. Her name tag read ‘Lindsey,’ and she was dressed in the standard khaki pants and navy blue shirt. “Um… I need a prepaid cell phone that doesn’t have any GPS features.”

Lindsey smiled. “Sure thing. We have some prepaid phones right here.” She pointed to some packages of different brands. “They do have a GPS chip, but I can remove that for you.”

“Is that a service you offer here?”

“Well no, not really,” the sales associate replied in her Southern drawl. “But I know how to do it. I do some work with local women’s shelters, and a lot of those ladies need to stay off the grid for their own safety. Abusive husbands, boyfriends, and the like.”

She nodded. “I’ll also need a calling card.”

After selecting a phone and a card, she paid with cash at the register. Once the items were purchased, Lindsey opened the package and removed the GPS chip from the cell phone. She also called the cellular provider and ordered their automatic call blocking service. Scully thanked her and then walked back to the front of the store, where she reentered the women’s room. She walked over to a stall, stepping inside and locking the door. The phone was turned on, and then following the directions on the calling card, she dialed a number she knew by heart.

“Hello?”

Scully’s stomach was churning into knots. “Jennifer, it’s me. It’s Dana.”

A loud gasp came over the phone.

“Don’t… don’t overreact,” she instructed. “I need you to stay calm and act normal. Are you at home?”

There was a pause. “Yes,” Jennifer replied breathily.

Scully sighed. “Okay. I need you to get out of the house. Can you walk out to the back yard?”

“Yeah.” After some seconds of muffled sounds and what sounded like a door opening and closing, Jennifer spoke again. “Okay, I’m outside. Is there some reason we couldn’t have talked inside?”

“Well, your house might be bugged and…” she sighed. “Your phone is probably tapped. So… I guess it doesn’t really matter where we talk.”

Silence. “Oh my God, Dana.”

She sighed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Are you all right?” Jennifer asked.

“I’m fine. Are you okay? And Charlie, and the kids?”

Jennifer sighed. “Yes, we’re all doing okay. But I doubt you’re _fine._ Would you even be calling me if everything was fine? What’s happened?”

Scully hesitated. “A lot has happened.”

“Bill Jr told Mom that you and Mulder went your separate ways,” Jennifer said. “Some of your FBI people came around and asked us if that was true and if we’d heard from you or if we had any idea of where you would go. I guess that was a couple months ago, now.” She paused. “Is that really true? Dana, I hope you know that none of us believe Mulder murdered anyone. We know he’s innocent.”

“He _is_ innocent,” Scully stated. “Everyone knows that, including the FBI. I’m sorry for what you must’ve gone through. I can only imagine how they must’ve treated you.”

Jennifer sighed again. “Don’t worry about that. It’s not your fault this happened. It’s the FBI’s fault. They should have protected you and Mulder and…” She trailed off, muffled sounds coming over the phone line again for several moments before she spoke again. “Charlie’s here. He wants to talk to you.”

Immediately, tears filled Scully’s eyes and she chewed on her bottom lip.

“Dana?”

At the sound of her brother’s voice, she began to cry. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry.”

“Dana, it’s all right. We just need to know if you’re okay. Do you need anything? Money? A place to stay? We could figure something out.”

She took a few steadying breaths. “I’m fine. No, I don’t need anything.”

Charlie hesitated before replying. “I don’t think you would’ve called if there wasn’t a real problem. What’s going on?”

She sighed, and wiped the tears from her face. “Nothing. I just wanted to call home.”

“But Baltimore isn’t home, Dana,” her brother said. “I’m guessing you haven’t called Mom.” He paused. “Has something happened with Mulder? Bill Jr said that he’d gone off to Mexico and you refused to go with him, but personally I found that a little hard to believe. You love Mexican food.”

Scully laughed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed. She giggled for some moments before heaving a sigh. “No, we didn’t go to Mexico.”

Charlie snorted. “So how’s Mulder holding up?”

“He’s…,” she sighed. “He’s not… um, things aren’t going so well right now.”

There was a pause and some muffled sounds again. “Okay, I put you on speaker phone. Jennifer would’ve filed for divorce if I waited any longer. So… what’s wrong with Mulder?”

Taking a deep breath, she began to recount the recent events that had occurred in Kansas, making sure she didn’t actually state the name of the location they had been. She explained her fight with Mulder, but left out any mention of William. She didn’t know if anyone would be listening to the phone call, but the chances were likely high and speaking of her son would be dangerous.

“It might be good for you to allow him the space he needs, and maybe take some space for yourself,” Charlie said. “It’s just the two of you cooped up in a car, in motel rooms. That doesn’t allow for much breathing room.”

“I’m sure he’ll move past his doubts and fears in his own time when given some space,” offered Jennifer. “Men usually do. You should take the energy and attention that you’ve been putting into holding things together for the two of you, and instead direct it towards yourself and whatever will make you happier. Mulder will come around.”

“You could shake things up a little,” Charlie suggested. “You know, your life doesn’t have to be wandering from one motel to another with little or no direction. You have to make a life for yourself somehow, Dana. Do something fun and exciting for a change, something unpredictable. The kind of surprising excitement that doesn’t involve near-death experiences or run-ins with law enforcement. That would be a real change for you two.”

Scully snorted. “Yeah.” She sighed. “I miss you both so much.”

“We miss you, too,” Jennifer said.

She could picture their smiles in her mind’s eye. “Thank you. For everything. I hope this phone call doesn’t get you in trouble.”

“Nah, nothing to worry about,” said Charlie. “Um… are you going to call Mom?”

“I can’t call Mom,” she replied, and felt a lump growing in her throat.

He sighed. “Why not?”

She shook her head, tears threatening again. “I just can’t.”

“You’re gonna have to face Mom eventually,” Jennifer said quietly. “I don’t think we should tell her that you called. She’d be upset if she knew you called us but not her. But _please_ call her, Dana.”

“I’ve already been on the phone too long, and I need to get going,” she replied, avoiding the subject.

Silence. “We won’t ask you where you are because we know you wouldn’t tell us,” said Charlie. “Please take care of yourself.” Jennifer then spoke into the phone. “We love you, Dana. So much. And our boys, they adore you and miss you. Bill and Tara love you. Mom loves you. No matter what. Don’t ever forget that you always can call on us for anything. Tell Mulder that we all love him too, and that we don’t blame him for anything.”

Charlie snorted. “Maybe not Bill, but you get the point.”

Scully chuckled through the tears that were filling her eyes and brimming over.

“And Dana, don’t worry about Mulder,” said Jennifer. “We all know how much he loves you. Just give him a little space, and then I’m sure he’ll come around. And like Charlie said, try to find a way to have some fun and enjoy each other. You need to make a life for yourselves… somewhere, anywhere. Maybe then things won’t be so much of a struggle.”

“Thank you,” she said to her sister-in-law, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I love you both, too.” She sighed. “I really have to go. Mulder will be wondering why I’ve been gone so long.”

Silence. “Dana, please be careful and take care of yourself,” Jennifer choked out, her voice thick with emotion. Charlie then cut in. “Don’t do anything stupid or reckless. Just look out for yourself. Hopefully these bogus charges on Mulder get straightened out and you’ll be able to go home. We can hope, right?”

She thought the chances of that ever happening were slim to none. “Yeah. We can hope. I’ll take care of myself. I promise. I know it’s easier said than done, but try not to worry.” Her voice hitched. “I don’t want to say goodbye. So just, um, till next time. Give Jack, Ben, and Hannah hugs and kisses for me.”

Scully then quickly hit the end button and stepped out of the stall. She walked over to the trashcan and tossed the cell phone inside along with the calling card. She stood at the sink and splashed cold water on her face before walking out of the women’s room. As soon as she stepped outside the door, she watched Mulder walking quickly towards her.

“I thought you were only getting a bottle of water,” he said, eyes wide.

She saw that he appeared to be worried. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… wanted to walk around for a little bit after sitting for so long.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, nodding, and then looked her over, noticing her red eyes and blotchy face. She’d been crying. His face fell, his stomach churning with guilt. He opened his mouth to speak but wasn’t sure what to say, and then quickly closed it.

“I’m gonna get a bottle of water and then we can be on our way,” she said.

They walked over to a checkout aisle, where she grabbed a bottle of water for herself and a bottle of root beer from the cooler for Mulder. After she paid with cash, they departed Walmart and made their way through the parking lot to the Jeep.

“You want me to drive now?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nope. I’ll drive.”

He nodded and walked over to the passenger side door. Once they were both seated in the Jeep, she set her water down in the cup holder and picked up the road atlas from the middle console. She flipped to the dog-eared bookmark she made in the Louisiana section. She read some entries and pursed her lips.

“Are you in a hurry to get to New Orleans?” she asked him.

“In a hurry?” he asked in disbelief, looking over at her. “There’s no need to hurry about anything. I’ll go anywhere you want me to. Here, there, wherever.”

Scully sighed at his dismal tone and looked back down in the book. “All right. Let’s stay in Lafayette for a few days.”

Mulder gave her a curious look, but he refrained from asking what was on her mind.

*****

 _She was running down a hallway and trying to open doors, but they were all locked. She could hear Mulder’s voice ahead. He was behind one of the doors; she just had to find the right one. Finally a door opened and there he was. Suddenly they were in her bedroom back in Georgetown and he was lying on the bed next to her, but she couldn’t remember how this had happened. How were they back in Georgetown? Mulder’s face was hovering over hers and his hand was sliding down her stomach to between her thighs. Suddenly she could feel her clit throbbing. But then everything started to fade._ **_No, no, no. Just a little longer._ ** _She hadn’t felt this good in so long. She was going to come, she was so close. She was almost there, but she was slipping away…_

Scully opened her eyes. She groaned internally. She’d been so close. The tingling sensation remained and she started squirming. She glanced over at Mulder, asleep with his back still to her. Like it had been all week. Every night she slipped into bed next to him, and every night he shut her out. She thought about waking him, but remembered what her brother and sister-in-law had said about giving him some space to work out his frustrations.

She sighed. Her clit was tight and throbbed dully; she could feel her wetness. She needed some relief. With a quick sideways glance at her partner, she slid her right hand underneath the waistband of her panties. She touched her slick flesh and bit back a whimper. Her wetness let her fingers easily enter her body. She moved them in and out, wishing it was Mulder touching her instead. She closed her eyes and let the mental images flow through her mind. It wasn’t her fingers inside her cunt, but Mulder’s. It was him touching her, sliding his fingertips over the sensitive spot in her front wall. It was him who withdrew his fingers and let them glide over her clit.

She thought about Mulder’s lips pressed to hers, his naked body covering hers, his cock sliding into her cunt. It was always so hard, so big, when he took her. She bit back a moan. More wetness flowed from her center. She gathered it on her fingers, spreading her juices over her hardened bundle of nerves. Her muscles clenched as thoughts of Mulder’s body ran through her mind. She rubbed her clit faster. Heat spread through her, from her fingertips to her toes. Sweat popped out on her brow. Her breathing quickened into little pants. She thought about Mulder’s lips sucking on her nipples, his fingers rubbing her clit. Suddenly, her orgasm snaked up her legs, her torso, pulsating at the base of her spine, before centering on her throbbing core. She bit down hard on her bottom lip to prevent making any sounds, slamming her eyes shut, and arched slightly off the mattress before clamping her thighs down against her hand.

It took several moments for Scully to find the strength to drag her hand to her stomach, and even longer for her breathing to start to slow. She licked her lips, still breathing heavily, before opening her eyes and turning her head to glance over at Mulder again. He was staring at her, eyes wide and mouth wide open, like a deer caught in the headlights. She opened her mouth to say something, but she didn’t know what to say. She just stared back at him, and suddenly found she was fighting the urge to laugh.

She turned her head slightly and could see he had an erection under the covers. She thought about being unpredictable, of adding fun surprises to the dull monotony of living in one bland motel after another. This certainly was unpredictable. She also knew she was growing tired of Mulder’s moodiness towards her.

Without a word, she quickly moved towards him, throwing the white duvet off. She pushed his heather gray boxer briefs down off his hips and closed her fingers around his rigid cock. Mulder heaved a sigh and leaned his head back down on the pillow, his eyes green slits in the darkness. He had no idea what to say to her when she saw that he was awake and looking at her. He loved watching her. He loved the way she licked her lips and had her eyes shut tight, her brows knitted in fervent concentration, the way her chest heaved with her heavy breathing. He loved seeing her come when she thought no one was watching her. He didn’t think he’d ever gotten to see that before.

Scully found every inch. The shaft of his hard cock was smooth and firm, sleek and hot. She slid her hand all the way around him, feeling the pulse beat through it, loving the feel of him. She worked her fingers upward to the spongier texture of the head, and ran her thumb back and forth over the sensitive flesh. A bead of moisture slicked the tip, and Mulder groaned.

She ran her hand down again, enjoying the contrast between soft head and rock hard shaft. He groaned again when she reached the base of his cock, soft fingers finding and cupping his balls.

“Oh, fuck, you’re going to kill me,” Mulder said in a low voice.

Scully stilled. “I can stop if you want me to.”

He let out a breathy laugh. “Please don’t.”

She closed her fingers around his shaft again, gliding her hand up and down. He shuddered, his head moving against the pillow. Scully leaned into him, loving his warmth, loving the power and control he was giving her. Mulder tugged her into the circle of one strong arm, holding her close as she stroked him.

Her hand slid easily up his shaft, the tip brushing her palm, his tight balls filling her other hand when she reached the base again. He breathed raggedly as the heat of her mouth enveloped him. Hot and hard and fast, she sucked him. His hands flew to her hair, but they were gentle and undemanding.

Together they found their perfect rhythm, and soon his hips were rising off the bed, seeking her hot mouth. Tension, heat, and need coiled hard and fierce within his core. His body shook, his heels dug into the bed, and his hips arched. Her hot mouth licked and sucked while her tight fist stroked faster and faster. His body and mind strained toward his imminent release. The orgasm roared through him, and he cried out her name as she took his release. He came into her mouth with such intense pleasure he thought he might black out.

As his breath heaved in and out of his lungs, Mulder stared blindly up at the ceiling, his mind a heady fog of pleasure. He then realized that Scully’s hands ran gently up his sides, soothing him as he shuddered and gasped. The tenderness made his chest ache. He felt exposed, raw, and part of his mind wanted to hide from her sight.

Scully crawled up his body to rest at his side, and kissed him on his jaw. He used a trembling arm to pull her closer to him. The feel of her against him was a miraculous connection, the glory of which he hoped never to lose. His gratitude, and his pride, made him want to return the favor. Stretch her out and fuck her cunt with his mouth until he turned her into the mess that he currently was. But damned if he could even move right now.

“Thank you,” he muttered with a satisfied sigh. His tone was almost embarrassingly reverent, but he didn’t fucking care.

She chuckled. “You’re welcome.”

They laid side by side for several moments in silence, their breathing the only sound filling the room. Mulder sighed. “So what made you want to stay in Lafayette? We got here Tuesday and…,” he paused, and turned his head to glance at the digital clock on the bedside table. It was 4:37 am. He turned back to her. “It is now Friday. We haven’t done much.”

“Because the thing we’re doing is later tonight,” Scully replied coyly. “It’s only available on Friday and Saturday nights.”

“And what is this thing we’re doing?” Mulder asked, brows rising.

She smirked, and licked her lips. “It’s a surprise.”

He gave her a suspicious look. “Do I get any hints?”

“Um… you still believe in ghosts, right?”

“What _don’t_ I believe in?” he snorted.

Mulder’s mind then brought forward memories of his encounters with the spirits of the Lone Gunmen and Krycek. Something vague about her sister Melissa also came forward, but he couldn’t exactly place it. A few minutes later he was drifting to sleep, wondering what Scully had planned. Just before he was pulled under, the face of his son flashed in his mind, big blue eyes staring back at him like a spark of life from the obscure unknown.


	140. "None of that really happened out there tonight... That was all in our heads, right?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully continues to surprise Mulder in unexpected ways. Some emotional healing follows.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coldplay – “Magic”
> 
> Call it magic, call it true  
> I call it magic when I'm with you  
> And I just got broken, broken into two  
> Still I call it magic, when I'm next to you
> 
> And I don't, and I don't, and I don't, and I don't  
> No I don't, it's true  
> I don't, no I don't, no I don't, no I don't  
> Want anybody else but you
> 
> I don't, no I don't, no I don't, no I don't  
> No I don't, it's true  
> I don't, no I don't, no I don't, no I don't  
> Want anybody else but you
> 
> Call it magic, cut me into two  
> And with all your magic, I disappear from view  
> And I can't get over, can't get over you  
> Still, I call it magic, such a precious truth
> 
> And I don't, and I don't, and I don't, and I don't  
> No I don't, it's true  
> I don't, no I don't, no I don't, no I don't  
> Want anybody else but you
> 
> I don't, no I don't, no I don't, no I don't  
> No I don't, it's true  
> I don't, no I don't, no I don't, no I don't  
> Want anybody else but you
> 
> Wanna fall, I fall so far  
> I wanna fall, fall so hard  
> And I call it magic  
> And I call it true  
> I call it magic
> 
> And if you were to ask me  
> After all that we've been through  
> "Still believe in magic?"  
> Well yes, I do  
> Oh yes, I do  
> Oh yes, I do  
> Oh yes, I do  
> Of course I do

Late on Friday afternoon, April 19th, Mulder and Scully packed up their motel room in Lafayette, Louisiana and drove over 35 miles west to the town of Ramah. After stopping for dinner at Big Red’s Bar-B-Q, where they mostly ate in silence, she got behind the steering wheel of the Jeep and headed out of town. A couple miles outside the town limits, she turned left onto a rural road. They followed the road to an old wooden bridge and crossed over a large creek. The road then abruptly vanished in the tall swamp reeds. On the left side of the road there was an old wooden sign dangling from a large metal pole. It was badly weathered. Mulder stared at it.

“I can’t make out the sign. Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” she answered coyly.

He gave her the side-eye and pursed his lips. “I think it’s okay to tell me now. I don’t even know where we are.”

She smirked. “We’re on the outskirts of that town we were just in. And we’re about 25 miles west of Baton Rouge.” She glanced over at him. “We’re heading to an old plantation. They give guided tours on Friday and Saturday nights.”

“Why only Friday and Saturday?” he asked, thinking of the road atlas he’d looked at occasionally over the past couple days. “Don’t most places around here give tours every day?”

“Well… they give historical tours every day at the plantation, that’s true. But, um, the tour tonight will be a little different.”

He turned to look at her, furrowing his brows. “Why?”

She licked her lips. “Because the plantation is haunted.”

He stared at her, surprised, as she fought a grin, the dimple in her cheek showing itself. “You’re taking us on a ghost tour?”

Shrugging, she glanced over at him. “Why not? I thought you’d like it. It’s supposed to be one of the most haunted places in the country. I’m sure the ghosts won’t mind having some visitors.”

He snorted, shaking his head. That had been the last thing he’d ever expected from her.

As they neared the plantation around 7:30 pm, while the sun was setting, the road again became clear of the tall reeds. After a few hundred yards, they came to a gleaming white wall that stretched for several yards in both directions. Two handsome stone pillars straddled the road, and ornately wound wrought iron gates hung open between them. Arched above the gates were the words “Arcadia Creek Plantation.”

As they drove through the gates, Mulder and Scully were surprised to find the ancient grounds were well-manicured. Colorful flowers bloomed from their beds, devoid of unwanted weeds. Neatly-trimmed shrubs and garden statues accented the grounds. The expansive lawn was dotted with centuries-old live oaks, cypress trees, and large weeping willows, perfect for climbing or sitting underneath to take shade from the hot sun.

The long paved driveway took them all the way to the plantation house, where they found a place to park along with several other vehicles that were already there. They made their way up to a small building to the right of the plantation house, walking past its large wrap-around porch. Once inside the front door, they found themselves inside a small gift shop. They then approached a desk where they each paid ten dollars for a ticket to the 8:00 pm Mystery Tour and were given two flashlights.

The group was a small one, roughly 12 or 13 people. Their tour guide, Amy, a bra-less Mississippi girl with an accent as thick as the heat of a summer day, addressed the group at eight o’clock on the dot, and the tour began. “We don’t want to keep our hosts waiting,” she said to the group.

“Did you say ‘hosts’ or ‘ghosts’?” asked an older woman.

Amy grinned. “How about I let you decide that for yourself?”

As they walked through the mansion, Amy spoke with enthusiasm about their surroundings. “The saga of the Antebellum South and a lifestyle that will never be forgotten lives on at Arcadia Creek Plantation. At first glance, the mansion and its environment envelops one with a complete sense of peace and tranquility. I’m sure you noticed the 125-foot verandah when you arrived. Inside the house you’ll see exquisite ornamental ironwork, crown molding, hand-painted stained glass. You’ll have noticed the stained glass entrance when you came in. It’s original to the house, hand-painted, and was patterned after the French cross to ward off evil.”

They moved from room to room, their tour guide pointing out certain objects of interest. “You’ll notice the Aubusson tapestry, Carrara marble mantels, gold-leafed French furnishings, and the Baccarat crystal chandelier.” Amy turned and eyed the group. “But of course, the mansion also features _ghosts._ ”

Scully and Mulder smirked at one another as others in the group chuckled.

“Stirling Cemetery is just down the road, if you care to check it out later,” Amy stated. “The mansion is currently haunted not only by the spirits of the infamous Stirling clan, who built the plantation in 1796, but also by the ghosts of their slaves, many of whom were starved or beaten to death in the ‘slave pit’ out in the front yard.”

Mulder blanched. Scully glanced up at him, grimacing. An uneasy feeling churned in the pit of her stomach.

Amy looked around at the frowning faces in front of her. “Not to worry, though. The slave pit is never on the tour. However, you just might see some ghosts.”

The group followed the tour guide out of the house and onto the back porch, lined with rocking chairs and other furniture. Mulder and Scully clicked their flashlights on, before gazing at each other and smirking. She winked at him and he gave her a small smile. They were then shown the Butler’s Pantry and the General Store.

“Oftentimes, the ghosts of slave girls will appear in the breezeway between these two buildings,” Amy said, addressing the group. “So keep your eyes sharp. Um… in 1833, there was a fire in one of the cottages on the property. The children of Clarke Stirling, nephew of James Stirling who built the plantation, were killed in the fire. Two girls and a boy; Mary and Cornelia, nine-year-old twins, and their younger brother William, age four. Along with the children, their mother Eliza also perished in the fire. She was caring for the children by herself while her husband had been in New Orleans on business.”

She paused, pursing her lips. “Some folks have claimed to have seen the ghost of a young boy, who appears to be in some distress. Those of us who work here, like myself, have never seen any evidence of this particular claim, though. But you never know what you might end up seeing or hearing around here, that’s for certain.”

They continued moving through the grounds to another building, the Caretaker’s Quarters. “Now, interestingly, the ghost that we most encounter around here is that of a forlorn, weeping woman who lost her beau in the Civil War. At times she likes to follow visitors through the house. And on stormy nights, you can sometimes hear her wailing for her lost love. No one seems to know who she is, as there are no records that connect her to anyone in the Stirling family.”

“Spooky,” remarked an older man in the group. Some others visibly shivered. Amy smiled and nodded.

Scully glimpsed at Mulder, shoving him slightly with her elbow. He chuckled under his breath. “I have yet to see or hear anything remotely ghostly,” he murmured to her. She shrugged, before waving her flashlight in his face. He let out a breathy laugh.

At 8:35, the group moved to the last stop on the tour, Willow Cottage, the one that had burned down in 1833. It had since been rebuilt back in the 1970’s, but the appearance was kept the same as it had been in the 19th century. It had been constructed of fresh wood from the trunks of sturdy oak trees. There was a small rose bush growing by the door, and vines crept up the walls and around the windows. The windows were fitted with glass panes that appeared to have been recently washed, and from the outside it was obvious that there was a glowing fire inside.

Amy stepped onto the small porch and opened the wooden door slowly. The hinges creaked and some of those in the group cringed at the high-pitched noise before proceeding to follow the tour guide into the cottage. It consisted of three rooms. There was a small fireplace in the corner of the front room to the left, and someone had set a fire. Light from its flames flickered across the floor and walls. An ivory table was centered a few feet from the door and there were cushioned armchairs in the other corners. Heavy, red drapes hung from the two windows.

As the tour guide began to recount another creepy story about the Stirling family and their brutal way of life on the plantation, Scully’s attention wandered to the room on her right. The door was ajar, and she quietly moved towards it, stepping away from Mulder. His eyes followed her, his brows furrowing. She slowly opened the door wider and peered into the room. There were white lace curtains hanging on either side of the large window, where moonlight shone through and revealed the cool, dust-laden air. Wispy shadows of tree branches danced across the floor. There were three small beds. It was the children’s room.

An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach and as she turned to leave, her gaze fell on the window. Staring back at her from the glass panes was the beautiful face of a woman, wearing a grand pre-Civil War dress. The apparition in the window was as if floating above the ground in a coffin of moonlight. She was weeping. Scully gasped, her heart pounding. She wanted to run from the room, but she felt frozen to the spot where she stood. The woman’s lips began moving and Scully’s eyes widened as she perceived that she understood exactly what the woman was saying.

She turned to bolt from the room and ran right into Mulder, who had been hovering in the doorway trying to simultaneously keep an eye on her and listen to the story that Amy was telling. As her body slammed into his, she yelped, quickly grabbing him, her flashlight falling to the floor with a loud thud.

“Scully, what is it? What happened? You’re shaking.”

The tour guide trailed off and the group turned around to stare at them.

She looked up at him. “Don’t you see it?” she whispered. “In the window?”

His eyes widened in excitement and he lifted his head to look inside the room. He looked directly at the window, but saw nothing. She turned in Mulder’s arms and looked back at where she had seen the apparition. The woman was still there, still speaking the same words, even though no sound would come.

“I wanna get out of here… I wanna get out of here,” Scully said, reaching down to pick up her flashlight, before pushing past him into the living room and making for the front door.

He looked back into the bedroom, looking around, and once again stared at the window. But he still saw nothing out of the ordinary. He sighed. Shortly thereafter the entire group was led out of the cottage by Amy, and they started to make their way back to the front of the plantation house. Scully walked closely by Mulder, slipping her hand into his. He held her palm firmly in his own, and glanced down at her.

“You scared, Scully?” he asked teasingly.

“Shut up, Mulder.”

He heaved a sigh, and frowned. “How come I didn’t get to see anything cool?”

She gave him a look of disbelief. “Why would anyone want to see that?”

“Tell me what you saw,” he stated, eyes widening.

“Let’s just get out of here first,” she replied, shivers going up and down her spine.

The group was brought around the front of the mansion at precisely 8:45 pm, and the tour had come to an end. A couple minutes later, after handing in their flashlights, Mulder and Scully were getting back inside their blue Jeep Wrangler. She started the engine as he buckled his belt in the passenger seat. She backed out of the parking space before switching gears and heading towards the driveway.

“So… are you gonna tell me what happened back there?” he asked.

She sighed. “There was a woman… in the window.”

His eyes widened, his mouth curving into an excited smile. “And? What did she look like?”

“Like she could’ve been a character in _Gone with the Wind_.”

“That’s amazing,” he replied, chuckling. His brows then furrowed, not understanding what had transpired. “But why were you so spooked? It doesn’t seem all that frightening. You’ve seen far worse.”

She glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. “Don’t remind me,” she muttered. She sighed again. “Well, she was talking. Or… trying to. She was… saying something.” Her stomach was in knots.

His eyes went wide. “Do you know what she was trying to say?”

Scully glanced uneasily at her partner, before looking back at the driveway. She chewed on her lower lip. It was silly to have been so upset by something that was probably just a figment of her imagination. “I don’t even know if what I saw was really what I saw, Mulder. I mean, our heads had been filled with all sorts of nonsense from the moment the tour started.”

He heaved a sigh, shaking his head. Should he have expected anything different? Mulder turned to look out his window at the plantation grounds as they made their way towards the heavy iron gates.

She glanced over at him, at his crestfallen demeanor. “The woman was saying… ‘I couldn’t save them.’”

He turned his head sharply to look at her. “What?”

“That’s what she was saying. Over and over. _‘I couldn’t save them.’_ ”

“Was it that Eliza Stirling?” he asked. “She couldn’t save her children from that fire.”

Scully’s stomach knotted further. A flurry of emotions was battling it out inside of her. “How should I know? I’d like to forget about it.”

Mulder sighed, turning to look out the window as they approached the gates. “It’s still not fair that you got to see…” His voice trailed off and he stared out at the moonlit lawn. In front of a weeping willow, a boy stood in the moonlight. He looked no older than four or five years old, and the clothes he was dressed in were from another time. The young boy, looking directly at him, cried out for help though no sound was heard, glimmering tears running down his ethereal face. Mulder gaped, his stomach bottoming out.

“Scully, wait!”

She hit the brakes, and he turned back to look out the window. The boy was gone.

“What, Mulder? What is it?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. I… I thought I saw something. But…” He sighed. “I think my mind is playing tricks on me.”

She gave him a curious look, but didn’t press him further. That night they rented a motel room in Baton Rouge. They each laid awake, lost in their own thoughts. After a while, Mulder turned his head to look at Scully, who lay with her back to him.

“The names of Clarke and Eliza Stirling’s children?” he whispered. “The ones who died in the fire? The boy’s name was William.”

“Jesus, Mulder. Why do you want to think about that?”

“I wish I wasn’t,” he griped. His was fixating on the anguished boy and his crying face, pleading for help. His stomach was in one tight knot.

She sighed, unable to get that woman and her painful guilt out of her mind, the way she wept for her children. “I’m sorry. I thought the ghost tour would be fun.”

He turned his head and looked over at her. “It wasn’t so bad, Scully.”

“Mulder, that place was a horror show. And I’m not even talking about seeing a ghost.”

He chuckled. “It was pretty awful, the stuff that went on there. Are you, uh, still excited for New Orleans?”

She hesitated. “Um, yeah, I guess.”

“What do you want to do there?” he asked.

“I honestly haven’t thought about it,” she replied. “I figured we’d find a place to stay and then… see what happens, I guess.”

He sighed. He felt lost and directionless. They were living day by day with no plans, nothing to strive for, no goal in mind, just aimlessly moving from one place to another. As he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, he tried to push the anguished face of the boy named William from his mind, tried to forget how he begged for help. It proved impossible. Just before the sun started to rise, Mulder finally fell asleep.

 *****

On Saturday morning, April 20th, they departed Baton Rouge. Scully merged onto highway I-10 east towards New Orleans. After driving for almost 60 miles, she saw a sign indicating that the I-310 south toward Boutte/Houma would be coming up shortly. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and glanced over at Mulder, who was sleeping in the passenger seat. She did want to go to New Orleans, but the more she had studied the map of Louisiana, the more she’d found herself drawn to another place entirely.

As they approached exit 220, she made an impulsive decision and put her right signal on, changing lanes. The Jeep slowed and she exited the highway, merging onto I-310. After driving for another 90 miles, Scully arrived at her chosen destination less than three hours after leaving Baton Rouge. Once inside the town limits, she drove into a gas station and pulled up next to a pump.

Mulder stirred in his seat, blinking himself awake and stretching. He sat up and looked around as Scully slid out of the driver’s seat. “This… this doesn’t look like New Orleans.”

“That’s because we’re not in New Orleans,” she replied, grinning at him before shutting the door.

He glanced around while she filled the tank with gas. The convenience store was on stilts, keeping it more than six feet off the ground. Two wooden staircases led up to a porch that wrapped around the bright red-sided building. He turned the ignition key slightly, activating the car battery, and rolled down his window. He could smell the unmistakable scent of salty, ocean air.

After pumping gas, Scully made her way inside the convenience mart and purchased a bottle of water, an iced tea, and the local newspaper. She then got back in the Jeep, buckling her seat belt.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Grand Isle, Louisiana,” she replied.

He watched her as she started the engine. “And why are we here instead of New Orleans?”

She shrugged. “The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to come here.”

“Why this place?”

“It’s on the ocean, it’s… on the ocean.” She chuckled, before looking over at him. “Is that okay? If you had your heart set on New Orleans, we can still go there.”

Mulder sighed. “I don’t have my heart set on anything.” His tone was dull, defeated.

Her brows knitting as she looked away from him, Scully put the Jeep into gear and pulled away from the gas station. She was hoping some time in a peaceful place would do them both some good. After driving further down Highway 1, she came upon a sign which read “Grand Isle Rentals” and pulled into the lot. They both got out of the Jeep and walked inside the building, approaching the front desk.

The man sitting behind the desk looked to be in his late 50’s, wearing a yellow short-sleeved, button-down shirt, and he stood up from his stool at the sight of Mulder and Scully walking towards him.

“Hello, there. My name’s Steve. How can I help you?”

“We’d like to rent one of your oceanfront properties,” she said.

He nodded, and turned to his computer. “We have quite a few available right now, as we haven’t reached peak season yet. Do you have any preferences?”

Scully thought about it for a moment. “Not too large, as it’s just the two of us. Um… is it possible to rent a place that doesn’t have too many neighbors?”

“Well, now… the waterfront properties are all pretty close together. But, uh…” He continued to look at the computer screen. “Right now we have a rental where the houses that stand on either side of it are currently empty. Those are owned by seasonal visitors. They usually arrive around 4th of July and stay through until it’s time for the kids to go back to school towards the end of August. So the rental property should be pretty quiet and secluded for now.”

“Great,” she replied.

He pulled out the registration book from underneath the desk. “The cost is $350 a week. Unless you rent for a month, and then the price is $1,200 for the month.”

She pursed her lips, thinking. “How about we rent for the whole season? Four months for $4,000. And I’ll pay up front, in cash, right now.”

His eyes widened slightly. He knew $1,000 per month was lower than their normal asking price, but passing up four grand in immediate cash would be crazy. Steve smiled and held out his hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal, pretty lady.”

Scully smiled in return and shook his outstretched palm. A few minutes later, they were following Steve’s flatbed truck down Highway 1 towards the waterfront property. He soon pulled into the long concrete driveway leading up to a white house, which like all the other properties in the area, was set on stilts about eight feet off the ground. Steve pulled off to the side out front and directed Scully to park the Jeep underneath the beach house.

Once their vehicle was parked between two stilts, in what seemed like a carport beneath the house, Steve met them at the foot of the wooden staircase that led up to the front door and screened-in porch.

“Now, we just did a big remodel last year,” he told them as he unlocked the door. “There’s hardwood and natural cork flooring throughout, stainless steel appliances, and a fairly new Central Air unit. It’s got two bedrooms, one bath, and 1,148 square feet all on one floor. You’ve got a two-acre lot that extends all the way to the beach out back and nice views of the Gulf.”

They walked through the kitchen and living areas, glanced into the bathroom and two bedrooms, before making their way to the sliding glass storm doors at the back of the house. Steve opened the doors, allowed Mulder and Scully to walk through and out onto the wooden deck. The deck was large and held a picnic table as well as a couple lounge chairs. A flight of wooden stairs connected the back deck to the grassy yard.

Standing with her hands on the wooden rails, Scully looked down at the lawn. It extended for several yards, over a small knoll, and then disappeared into a sandy beach. Beyond the beach were the blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

“So… what do you think?” Steve asked them apprehensively.

“I love it,” she replied, her eyes not leaving the water.

Mulder looked at her, giving her a half smile, before looking back at the property owner. “We’ll take it.”

Back down in the driveway, they paid Steve the $4,000 and after he handed them the keys, he was gone. They then unloaded the Jeep, bringing all their luggage inside the house. Once they had unpacked and did a more thorough inspection of the house, Scully wanted to head out to the water. She walked out of the bedroom and came over to Mulder, who was sitting at the dining table reading _The Lafourche Gazette._

“I’m gonna head down to the beach,” she said. “You wanna come with me?”

“Not right now,” he replied, not looking away from the page.

She nodded, pursing her lips. She hoped the beach house and the ocean air would help them get out of their funk. She stood behind him, and then bent down, her hand running from his shoulder down across his chest. Her mouth went to his ear, her lips softly brushing against him. “Maybe later.”

Mulder felt butterflies fill his stomach, felt his pulse quicken. “Yeah. Maybe later.”

She kissed his ear, and then walked out through the sliding glass storm doors. She stepped down the wooden staircase and walked across the grass, going up over the small hill in the yard, and then finally hitting sand. She removed her shoes and walked barefoot across the beach until she reached the water’s edge. Rolling up the hem of her pant legs, she stepped into the ocean, the water rolling across her feet and ankles. As she stared out at the Gulf, the memory of the apparition, the woman weeping for her children, rushed forward to the front of her mind. Scully thought of Emily, she thought of William. Gazing out at the ocean, emotion overwhelming her, tears began to run down her face as she wept for her own children she’d been unable to save.

After some time, she walked back to the house, feeling somewhat relieved of her emotional burdens. She climbed the stairs to the deck, walking back inside. All was quiet. Mulder wasn’t around. A knot of fear tightened in her stomach. His sullen quietness of late, his morose and general unhappiness filled her mind. What if he left? What if he thought he’d made the wrong choice by abandoning his work? What if he wanted to go back to Kansas, find that Dr. Rosan, and search for some way to fight? To continue his quest? What if he would never be happy otherwise?

But her fears soon proved pointless. There was a note attached to the refrigerator with a magnet.

“Went for a run. Be back later. – M”

She heaved a sigh of relief, and made her way into the bathroom. After emptying her bladder, she washed her hands in the sink and found herself staring at her reflection in the mirror. The blonde was looking kind of dull and her darker roots were coming in. She thrust her tongue in her cheek, contemplating. She turned and left the bathroom, walking into the kitchen and over to the refrigerator. She noticed a pen lying on the countertop next to it. Grabbing ahold of it, she added a line to Mulder’s note, letting him know she went to run some errands. She then picked up the Jeep keys from the dining table and left the house.

She drove up and down Highway 1 until she came upon Flair for Hair Salon. She smiled excitedly and pulled into the parking lot. After waiting for 30 minutes, she finally was sitting in a white leather salon chair.

“So, what are we gonna do today?” asked the young woman with pink streaks going through her shoulder-length platinum blonde hair. She was holding a black comb in one hand while running her fingers through Scully’s hair with the other.

“I need to color my hair,” she replied, looking at the hair stylist in the mirror.

The young woman smiled. “Do you know what you’re going for? Do you have a specific color in mind? Or are you open to some ideas?”

Scully stared at her reflection, feeling a sense of strength and confidence build inside. “Red.”

*****

On Saturday, May 18th, Mulder opened the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the wooden deck. Just beyond the grassy knoll, his eyes fell on the large rainbow umbrella sticking up from the sandy beach as the sun began to set. His gaze moved beyond and he could see her swimming idly, with no purpose or direction; just enjoying the feel of the water against her skin. He sighed as he recalled the moment when she’d walked back inside the beach house, her hair back to its shiny, glistening red. His eyes had widened in surprise, and his heart swelled. In the few days after, he’d found himself just staring at the red, a reminder of the woman she had been before, the people they had been, the life they’d once had.

For the last few weeks, she’d spent her days out there on the beach while he’d spent them inside the house or running until his muscles ached and his chest burned. Every morning she asked him to come with her, to spend the day with her. Every morning while he sat at the table reading the newspaper, she would come up behind him, lean over and wrap an arm around his chest, place her mouth close to his ear, and whisper her invitation.

And every morning he declined.

But she never let on any disappointment. Instead, she would glide her lips from his ear to his cheek, kissing him, her arm would give him a squeeze as if trying for some semblance of a hug, and then she would quietly depart the house. At first, this had surprised him. He knew she wasn’t normally one to initiate displays of affection. After a few days, he found himself looking forward to the feel of her arm around him and her lips at his ear, looking forward to this new morning routine.

But he would soon grow restless, pull on sweats and a t-shirt, grab his sneakers, and go running down the road as fast as he possibly could. Sometimes he would stick to Highway 1, and sometimes he would run into town. He would run until the physical pain finally overshadowed the emotional, until his mind was forced to focus on something other than his abandonment of his son. Every day he grew stronger, ran harder, longer. And with each passing day, the more he ran, the clearer his mind became, the more he felt the heavy burdens begin to lift from his shoulders.

Every late afternoon she would return to the house to find him on the couch with the television on, sporadically going back and forth between several national news stations. Every evening he would sit at the table and watch her cook, listening as she recounted her day on the beach. Sometimes she would have stories to tell about their neighbors, and sometimes she would have spent the whole day without another soul around. When the meal was ready, they would sit across from each other at the dining table and eat in mostly comfortable silence. She would try to get him to talk about his day, but every day he told her the same thing. His routine never varied much.

After dinner was through, they would sit side by side on the couch. She would read a book she’d gotten from the library on a rainy day while he watched a basketball game. They would watch the 11:00 local news, _Late Night with David Letterman_ or maybe _Saturday Night Live_ , and then head to the bedroom. Every night they undressed, chatted, and got into bed, lying side by side. He would turn out his light, and after she finished the chapter she was reading in her book, her light would then go out. She’d lean over and kiss him while he stretched out on his back, his hands crossed on his chest. She’d lay on her side next to him. Sometimes her hand would reach out, her thumb circling the back of his hand, perhaps expecting that one kiss to turn into something more. He knew she wanted it to, but as soon as his head hit the pillow it once again would fill with all his fears and anxieties for the future. She would draw her hand back and he would then listen as she fell asleep. Eventually, not really knowing how long it took, he would fall asleep too. They almost always woke up around the same time, and a new day would start.

Mulder gazed out at the ocean, watching her swim. His head had been all over the place the past few weeks, and he knew that he hadn’t been fair to her. He’d checked himself out emotionally, created distance, in an effort to come to terms with what his life would become. He would never find his son. And unlike the years he’d spent bitter and angry, burdened with guilt and fear, as he searched for his sister in vain, this was something he had to let go. He could hear Scully’s voice in his head even now.

_“Let it go.”_

Maybe he would be better off if, like her, he made himself believe that their son was loved and well-cared for, happy and safe. Maybe he was normal and there was nothing supernatural or superhuman about him at all. Maybe the powers that be knew this and would never look for his son. Maybe his son would be left alone. Maybe someone, somewhere, would find a way to prevent that date from ever happening, and his son would live out a long, happy life.

But the doubt. The nagging doubt was always there. Like a splinter in his mind.

He would have to let it go, no matter how much it pained him. It was possible the alternative could lead him to a life without Scully. And the thought of a life without her was more than he could handle. He’d found himself lying awake at night, long buried fears and anxieties surfacing. Did he know how to be a good partner when there was no more work binding them together?

In what seemed like a memory from a lifetime ago, he remembered leaving the FBI and walking away from the X-Files. To have a life. A life with Scully, a life with their son. He’d believed he didn’t need the FBI to have a fulfilling partnership with her. She would work at Quantico, and he’d spend his days with William. They’d create new experiences and find new ways to fight, to uphold justice and search for truth. He’d believed that he was finally about to attain a future that he’d never thought possible. But in the end, that’s exactly what it was. Unattainable.

Scully still wanted a life, but what kind of life? What would they do? Where would they go? He needed to be doing something, something worthwhile. He hadn’t minded walking away from the X-Files before because he had something even more important to do, an even bigger quest in front of him: fatherhood. But he felt like he could do nothing now. So how long until his restlessness or his idleness drove her crazy? How long until he became a burden to live with? How long until she left him like all the others?

But then Mulder remembered her arm around his chest that morning, and her lips at his ear, asking him to spend time with her. Tears pricked his eyes. She was a complicated woman; that was certain. He could spend his entire lifetime trying to figure her out, and she’d still keep him guessing. But she had simple needs. And what she needed was simply him – his time, his attention, his affection.

If he stuck to her no matter what, if he did right by her, she would pay him back in kind. Their relationship was a constant, the cornerstone to his whole existence. As long as he did his part, as long as he made an effort, maybe he could make a normal life with Scully work. Maybe there was nothing to fear, to be anxious about. Determined to make things right, to be honest with her, to learn to let it go, to show her how much he really did care, Mulder turned and walked over to the stairs, where he started to descend.

Humming to herself, Scully emerged from the blue water onto the completely deserted beach as if coming out of the setting sun. She was as naked as the ocean’s surface itself. While out swimming she had impulsively stripped out of her black suit, and was carrying it in her right hand. It had been the cooling hour when the water felt at its warmest.

Mulder walked up to the beach umbrella and halted, watching her come to a stop at the water’s edge. She bent down, scooping water into her palm, and flushed it into the private shadows of her naked body, ridding it of sand. She stood upright and locked eyes with him, her face registering surprise. Even in the ocean’s twilight, he could see her glistening breasts, the round perfection of her belly, the small auburn patch of hair against her ivory skin at her center, dripping water from each wisp and curl. He smiled.

Scully felt her pulse begin to race and her breathing quicken at the shock of seeing someone out there when she’d been positive there hadn’t been anyone else around. But at the sight of his smile, she started to relax once again. She then rinsed the sand from her feet before slipping them into her wedge sandals. She tossed the swimsuit down onto the beach and picked up the large green towel, rubbing her taut skin warm. She toweled the mold of her creamy thighs, her swelling hips and ass, and that small dark patch of hair. She then wrapped the towel around herself, reached down for her suit, and began to walk towards him.

She approached the umbrella, coming to a stop in front of Mulder. Their eyes held and he gave her another small smile. His hands went to her shoulders, giving her a slight squeeze, before running them up and down her arms to warm her up. She smiled in return, pleasant butterflies filling her stomach.

He sighed, his eyes gazing down at her. He felt there was so much that needed to be said. “Scully, I’m sorry. Just with everything that’s happened, it hasn’t been easy. I know I’ve been…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, interrupting him. “I know, and I understand. And it’s okay. I don’t want to think about the past. Or talk about the past. I’m over talking about it. Can’t we just… _be?_ I just want to live.” She paused, averting her eyes. “I know that doesn’t come easy to you, Mulder, but…”

“No, Scully,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “I… uh, I once told you that I couldn’t stay still because I wouldn’t know what I’d be missing out on.” He sighed. “I don’t want to miss out on a life with you. I don’t ever want to risk… losing you. There’s absolutely nothing in this world that would ever make up for that loss. _Nothing._ ”

She smiled, and averted her eyes again, a blush creeping into her cheeks. Her damp hair tumbled down about her face, and he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting it up a little. Their gaze held again, and she saw such tenderness there. He brushed her hair back, tucking red strands behind her ears. Then he cupped her face between his hands, stroking his thumbs across her cheeks, and looked deep into her eyes.

“You… are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

She let out a slight breathy laugh, her mouth then curving into a sheepish smile. “I love you, too.”

Mulder smirked, nodding. “Just remember who said it first.”

His left hand then moved to the back of her neck, pulling her towards him. His mouth claimed hers with a force that shocked her, lips commanding, demanding. It was a stark contrast to the softness of the words that had just been spoken between them. He pulled her towel-covered body against his chest, tongue unfolding inside her mouth, thrilling her with his kisses until she was gasping for breath.

Scully clung to him, her body pulsating with intense need as he poured out his emotions, sharing them with her the best way he knew how. She lifted her arms, the swimsuit dropping to the beach blanket, and he quickly caught the towel as she linked them around his neck. His arms went around her, holding the green towel over her back, as they tried to kiss away the hurt, the pain, the anger, the disappointment, the sorrow. For they were all there, fresh wounds as well as some old scars. But their love was there, too. Their friendship, with its warmth, respect, commitment, and understanding. Their purity of heart, its devotion, faithfulness, loyalty, and honor. And their passion, its tenderness, intimacy, and desire.

They finally broke apart, breathing heavily, and Scully tightly wrapped the towel around her once again. After picking up her damp suit and beach bag, Mulder reached for her hand, threading their fingers, and then led them back to the house. When they crossed the threshold, the sliding glass door shutting behind them, he turned to look down at her. She licked her lips, her pupils dilated.

And it was like a dam had broken inside of him. The towel was quickly discarded. He was then all around her, his mouth on her neck, his hands caressing her breasts, roaming the contours of her back in all directions, cupping her ass with one and reaching down to cup her front with the other, deft fingers sliding through her auburn curls.

“Mulder!” she exclaimed, stimulation flooding her nerve endings.

He lifted his face from her neck, breathing harsh, green eyes turning black with passion. Under his scorching gaze, she grasped the hem of his charcoal gray t-shirt and dragged it over his head. Her fingers then went to the waistband of his blue jeans, finding the button and loosening it, before pulling down the zipper.

They then moved quickly to the bedroom, not once breaking contact. A fiery blaze consumed Scully’s body, wet desire pooling between her thighs. She kissed his chest, hands tracing the taut muscles beneath his soft skin, his heart beating beneath her fingertips. Mulder’s hands went to her face, setting her head at just the right angle before once again capturing her lips with his own.

He groaned, his hand slipping down her back to caress one soft, firm cheek. Blood thundered in her ears. She broke the kiss and took his hand, walking backwards until the bed bumped against the back of her knees. He gave her a gentle push and she fell onto the mattress, bouncing a little. He smirked as she laughed, and then she turned away and crawled on the king-sized bed towards the headboard. After removing his jeans and boxers, he followed, stalking on all fours and hovering over the top of her, primal lust pounding in his veins.

She fell on her back against the pillows, breathing hard, every nerve ending electrified. She didn’t bother with her sandals, didn’t have time. Scully watched as Mulder came up on his knees, his impressive length rigid and straining towards her. His right hand wrapped around his hard cock, and as his eyes locked on hers, he began to stroke himself. She shivered, unable to move, her mouth slightly falling open. She watched, transfixed, and her breathing started coming in small pants as he thrust into his hand again.

“I want your legs wrapped so tight around me it hurts,” he said in a low voice, continuing to stroke. “I want you pleading in my ear to never stop. I want your lips on my neck, biting my collarbone because you just can’t help yourself.”

God, she might just come from his words. Blood roared in her ears, and her skin felt as if on fire. Her muscles clenched, her hands gripped the bed sheet. He pulled gently on the head of his cock, groaning. The sound of his pleasure made her eyes roll, made her feel desperate.

“I want your tight, wet cunt gripping me,” Mulder groaned. “Just like this.” He gripped harder, increasing the friction, moving faster.

Scully whimpered, her hips squirming. Her eyes rolled again, her breath coming in short gasps. The next instant he was pushing her into the mattress. Flames engulfed her body in an upwards rush, as she parted her legs so he could settle between them. And then his hips aligned with hers. He stilled, waited, throbbing at her entrance as his face hung over hers.

Her heart pounded, her mouth went dry with anticipation. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t wait anymore. “Mulder!”

“I’m here,” he responded in a low voice, thick with passion.

He thrust into her and she cried out, gripping his hips so she could take all of him. He stilled again, throbbing inside of her this time, waiting until desperate need made her whimper. A second thrust made her back arch, and elicited a groan from his lips. He began to thrust in rhythm, hard and fast, as her legs locked around his waist. He soon sent them over the edge. She groaned, heard his own loud, guttural moans as his body went rigid above her. Then his hard cock was sliding through her sensitized flesh, as his hands went to fondle her breasts, his body hitting every sweet spot.

“Your cunt feels so good,” he groaned in her ear, pleasurable tension building at his core. At the sound of his voice, her muscles clenched, and she screamed as he roared his release, the warmth of his life flooding her womb. And then their breath mingled and their mouths met, their tongues meeting to caress, their bodies moving and stretching in perfectly-timed harmony.

Scully’s breathing finally began to slow as her hands languidly brushed up and down his back. After a while, Mulder pushed himself up on his hands and withdrew from her body. She moaned, her internal muscles so relaxed she couldn’t have kept him there if she even tried. He rolled over, his powerful chest rising and falling as his breathing slowly returned to normal. He pulled her into his arms and she snuggled against him with a contented sigh.

“That was way too damn quick,” he mumbled.

She chuckled. “It’s exactly what we needed.”

His chest vibrated beneath her cheek with silent laughter. “I came like a teenager.”

Scully laughed. “Well… you don’t fuck like a teenager.”

“Christ, I hope not.” Mulder turned and looked at her. She could no longer see any tension, the gloom and anxiety that had plagued his features for the past month were now gone. His eyes sparkled with humor. “You screamed like a porn star.”

Her mouth fell open and she shoved him. “I did not.”

He nodded, his eyes glinting with mischief, his eyebrows waggling. “Oh, but you did.”

She rolled her eyes, smirking. “Well, _you_ would know,” she muttered under her breath, before rolling away from him and off the bed. She finally kicked off her sandals.

“Where are you going?” he asked, sitting up on his elbows to watch her walk across the bedroom.

“I’m going to pee and take a shower, and then I’m going to cook dinner,” she replied without looking back at him. “I’m starving.”

He smiled as he watched her disappear behind the bathroom door.

*****

That evening they sat across from each other at the dining table, enjoying their spaghetti dinner. As Scully watched Mulder butter a slice of Italian bread, she stretched her legs out under the table. Her bare foot met his. He smiled. She then raised her foot, caressing up and down his calf. She gazed at him across her glass of red wine as she brought it to her mouth. He grinned before taking a bite of his buttered bread.

Later that night, they were totally relaxed as they sat on the couch in the living room, finishing off the bottle of wine while they watched TV. They sat close to each other, his left arm draped across her shoulders, his fingertips lazily caressing up and down the soft skin of her arm. She brushed his thigh with slow, lingering fingers. Occasionally, he would lean over and whisper in her ear, and she would laugh.

As the local news was going off the air around 11:30, he grabbed the remote and switched off the television, before turning and looking down at her. She turned her head towards him and smiled, licking her lips. Mulder seized the moment, leaning forward, and kissed her, a slow sensual caress. His lips were soft and firm and warm against hers, and she opened to the gentle prod of his tongue. It slowly unfolded inside her mouth, stroking the skin inside tenderly, firmly brushing against her tongue, caressing it. She sighed into his mouth. She felt warm sensations of pleasure flowing like waves through every nerve ending in her body as she turned towards him, her arms going around his shoulders as he held her closer to him. She felt like the kiss would never end, and she wasn’t complaining.

Mulder then rose from the couch, took Scully by the hand, and led her to the bedroom. Their clothes were soon discarded and they were lying in bed. She felt his hands on her naked body as his lips came down on hers. She melted into him and into his kisses. Her hips rose off the mattress and rubbed rhythmically against him. His name was a whisper on her lips, and he felt her shiver as his mouth trailed down her jaw to her neck.

He kissed her throat, skimmed the side of her breast with his fingertips before brushing long strokes over the soft, sensitive undersides. She murmured his name, her chest flushing pink as her nipples stiffened into tight peaks. Just begging to be licked, he thought, stroking his tongue across one. She gasped, placing her hands on his head to hold it in place. He licked the nipple again, and when she moaned he sucked hard.

Her back arched, one breast straining towards him, her fingers searching for her other nipple. He bumped her hand out of the way with his head and switched to her other breast, giving it the same sweet attention. She moaned with relief, drew in a deep breath, and slid her fingers back into his soft brown hair. She then cradled his head while he kissed and licked and sucked her nipple into a hardened bud.

After a while he moved lower, kissing a trail down her stomach and dipping his tongue into her bellybutton. He smiled when he earned himself another throaty moan. Her hips began to rise and fall as he slid lower down the bed, fingertips stroking her inner thighs, lips trailing kisses down her soft belly until he reached her wet, swollen center.

Heart pounding, cock so hard he worried he might not last very long, he gently angled his body until his shoulder was positioned under her right knee. Then, with a gentle push, he coaxed her silky thighs even wider, treating himself to a better view.

“Jesus, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, before his mouth honed in on her sensitive bundle of nerves.

Her hands dragged through his hair, her body tensing like a tight string as his tongue dragged slowly up through her center, and her breathing turned into mewling pants. Her clit throbbed as his mouth enclosed around it, his tongue expertly moving against it with alternating soft and firm strokes. He quickly brought her to the edge before easing off, bringing her down, moving his lips to her inner thigh until she relaxed again. Eventually he moved back, moving more slowly this time, swirling his tongue around her clit in soft circles until her hips began to rotate and she tossed her head on the pillow.

His fingers began to play around her swollen, sensitive folds and she pushed herself against his mouth, urging him to give her more. He brought his index and middle fingers to her entrance, pushing them into her tight wetness and curling them upwards to graze the sensitive spot inside. She hissed at the sensation, arching off the mattress and throwing her head back.

Mulder felt it was enough just to watch Scully’s beautiful face, to see her arch her head back, receiving the pleasure he was giving her. Rising pleasure coiled tighter at her center, spreading down her legs until her toes curled into the mattress, his lips, tongue, and fingertips sending her closer to the precipice. Suddenly the tension burst and she exploded, trembling and crying out his name, her hips grinding against his mouth as he held her tight with his other arm.

Her nerves quickly became over-stimulated and she gently pushed his head away from her center. He withdrew his fingers and slowly removed her right leg from his shoulder. He then took his fingers in his mouth and sucked her juices off, making sure she was watching him intently. Her eyes widened, her mouth falling open, and her body tensed. He laughed, moving over the top of her and bracing himself on his hands. Scully reached between them, stroking his thick arousal, and Mulder growled into her mouth.

Her heart began to pound again as he slid his hands underneath her and took a firm grip on her ass. And then he was sliding his hard cock into her to the hilt, filling her, the feeling so exquisite she caught her breath and her eyes drifted closed. They kissed passionately as they began to move in unison, savoring every slow thrust and counter thrust, enjoying the feel of each other’s bodies. It was a slow build this time, and she stroked his back as he murmured into her ear, telling her how good she felt, how beautiful she was, how much he loved being inside her.

Scully smiled, arching beneath him, her arousal increasing as her arms and legs held him tighter. Once she felt the muscles in his back start to tighten, she urged him to go faster, harder. He picked up the pace, effortlessly switching gears to keep her body humming, seeking, climbing. His skin was slick under her fingers, his hair damp at his brow, his breath hot on her cheek. She turned her head, kissing his bottom lip, before pulling it between her teeth and pushing herself into him as deeply as she could. Her orgasm built like a storm cell, and unable to hold on any longer, she cried out, her entire body clenching.

She found his mouth again, pressing her lips to his, thrusting her tongue inside, demanding that he come with her. The tight, wet heat of her cunt clamped down on him like a vice. He groaned, breaking the kiss, and explicit words of passion fell from his lips as he came undone inside her right as her own orgasm peaked. Mulder moaned loudly, thrusting into her again and filling her with his release, sending waves of pleasure rolling through her, the sensations so deliciously intense they never wanted them to end.

Finally they stilled, and then Mulder rolled onto his back, pulling Scully against him and holding her. Replete, limbs heavy, she pillowed her head on his shoulder. Soon their breathing became normal and the room righted itself once again.

She smiled to herself. “I was the one who said it first.”

“Uh… no, you weren’t. I said it first.”

“Mulder, I vividly recall where and when we said it, and I said it first.”

He shook his head, snorting. “Scully, I told you I loved you in that Bermuda hospital. Well over a year before you said it.”

Her brows knitted, and she looked up at his face, eyes closed and his mouth curved into a contented smile. Memories flooded her mind, and once again he was right. She remembered him waking up in that hospital, she remembered his words. A wave of emotion welled inside Scully and lodged in her throat. She wondered at what precise moment, Mulder had fundamentally changed her life forever at the deepest level. But there wasn’t just one moment. It had been years of moments.

“I guess I should’ve taken you seriously,” she whispered.

“Eh,” he shrugged. “We were in a rough patch.”

She snorted. “Is that what you call it?”

He glanced down at her. “Well, what would you call it?”

Scully thought about it for a second. “Rough patch works.”

Mulder chuckled. He looked at her again. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about the past?”

She sighed. “Not all of it is painful. We had some good times.”

“We had a lot of good times, Scully.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “There might be more good times ahead, you never know.”

“I’m having a good time right now,” she replied, sighing contentedly and snuggling up against him.

He nodded, smiling. He was starting to think that perhaps simply living from day to day might not be so bad.


	141. "There has to be an end sometime."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder gets an unexpected birthday surprise. He and Scully are faced with a life-changing decision.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.
> 
> Sidenote: Thank you to everyone for your incredible patience with me. I know it was a very long wait. But I needed a break, and to take a step back to deal with some real-life things. But not to worry, all is fine. Thank you for your continued support and encouragement!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping At Last - "Mars"
> 
> We laid our names to rest  
> Along the dotted line  
> We left our date of birth  
> And our history behind
> 
> We were full of life  
> We could barely hold it in  
> We were amateurs at war  
> Strangers to suffering
> 
> We made our families proud  
> But scared at the same time  
> We promised we’d be safe  
> Another lie from the front lines
> 
> Our backs against the wall  
> We’re surrounded and afraid  
> Our lives now in the hands  
> Of the soldiers taking aim
> 
> Our questions ricochet  
> Like broken satellites  
> How our bodies, born to heal  
> Become so prone to die
> 
> Though time is ruthless  
> It showed us kindness in the end  
> By slowing down enough  
> A second chance to make amends  
> As life replayed, we heard a voice proclaim:
> 
> "Lay your weapons down  
> They’re calling off the war  
> On account of losing track  
> Of what we’re fighting for"
> 
> So we found our way back home  
> Let our cuts and bruises heal  
> While a brand-new war began  
> One that no one else could feel
> 
> Our nights have grown so long  
> Now we beg for sound advice  
> Let the brokenness be felt  
> 'Til you reach the other side
> 
> There is goodness in the heart  
> Of every broken man  
> Who comes right up to the edge  
> Of losing everything he has
> 
> We were young enough to sign  
> Along the dotted line  
> Now we’re young enough to try  
> To build a better life
> 
> To build a better life

At just past 10:00 on Saturday morning, October 12th, Mulder and Scully stepped inside Moby Dickens Bookstore, passing underneath the sign with the blue illustrated whale wearing a black top hat. The bell on the door announced their arrival. The couple standing behind the counter on the left side of the shop looked up and smiled at the familiar faces. The 30-something, petite redhead had become a regular customer over the past several months, and occasionally she was accompanied by her tall partner of forty or so, like today.

“Good morning!”

Scully smiled at the friendly storeowners. “Hello. How are you today?”

The woman smiled in return. “Oh, we’re doing fine.”

“And how are you two doing?” asked her husband.

Giving another small smile, Scully nodded. “We’re good. It’s actually his birthday tomorrow, so I’m here to get his gift. I think something from the self-help section would be perfect.” She turned and grinned at him as he shook his head in mock annoyance while the couple offered him amused birthday wishes.

Mulder followed Scully towards the back end of the shop. They walked past the round wicker basket on the floor that currently served as the bed for two napping cats, Jane and Edgar, famous fixtures of the bookstore. When they reached the rows of books at the back, Mulder was somewhat surprised to see she truly had led them to the self-help section.

“I thought you were just kidding,” he said, gazing around the room.

Ignoring him, Scully scanned the shelves before reaching for a book and lifting it from the shelf. She then turned to show him the cover. “How about this one?” she asked. “I think this could come in handy for you.”

He stared at the book with the title _Do-It-Yourself Coffins: For Pets and People._ He raised his deadpan gaze at her and she chuckled. He shook his head and began looking over the book titles. His eyes fell on a book and he snorted. He then held up _How to Overcome Your Fears by Making Others_ _Fear You_ by Onan Gupta. “I think you’ve already mastered this one.”

She just gave him her pursed-lip look as a response, a cross between a kiss and a smirk that he knew so well. She turned her attention to the shelf in front of her before grabbing a book and holding it out. Mulder read the _How to Microwave for One_ title. “Be careful or you might need this,” she said.

He laughed and once again started perusing the book shelves. “‘How to Manipulate People by Your Apparent Friendliness,’” he read aloud.

“Is that for you or for me?” she asked.

He chuckled before his gaze fell on another book. “Oh, here we go, Scully.” He turned and held up the book _Your Immortal Reality: How to Break the Cycle of Birth and Death_. “You probably need this.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not that Clyde Bruckman thing again, Mulder.”

“This book could contain some valuable information, Scully.”

Ignoring him, she turned her back and then grinned as she pulled another book off the shelf. “This book right here could also contain some valuable information for _you_ , Mulder.”

He stared at the title: _The Joy of Solo Sex._

“You think you’re so funny,” he deadpanned.

“That’s because I am,” she said matter-of-factly, returning the book to its place on the shelf. She slowly made her way down the aisle, gazing over the book titles. “Oh. ‘How to Avoid Prison.’ I’d say that’s a perfect one.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “I’d say we’re already doing a good job of that. So far.” Mulder had no idea why they were in this bookshop, other than to pass the time and maybe have a laugh. Over the past two days, she’d been awfully coy about what she was going to do for his birthday. He kept trying to get out of her what she was planning, but she refused to cave or even drop a hint. When he’d climbed into the passenger seat of their blue Jeep Wrangler that morning, he had no idea where they were heading until they pulled out of the driveway.

His eyes then widened and he grabbed a book from the shelf, before turning around and clearing his throat. “I found my birthday present.”

She turned around and then burst out laughing upon reading the title: _How to Get Over That Bitch – The Best Way to Attract, Love, and Leave Women._

“It’s written by a male escort, so he must know what he’s talkin’ about,” he said, smirking and tapping the cover with his finger.

“I’m sure it’s a Nobel Prize winner,” she retorted, before shaking her head as she turned back to the bookshelves. After a few moments of silence as they perused more books, she spoke again. “Have you ever thought about writing a book, Mulder?”

His brows furrowed as he gave her a sarcastic look. “Scully, what the hell would I write about? ‘How to Be the Worst FBI Agent Ever?’”

She shook her head. “You weren’t the worst.”

He gave her a deadpan look. “You’re right. Colton was the worst.”

She found she couldn’t argue with that. “Mulder, you _could_ write, you know. Maybe a memoir, or…”

“Sure, Scully, why don’t I just pick up where Kurtzweil left off in his doomsday series?” he replied, cutting her off as he gazed over the bookshelf. “I have an actual date now for the end of the world, which is something he didn’t have. That would _really_ sell some hysteria to the public.”

She sighed. “Forget I mentioned it.” But then she grinned as her eyes fell on a pale green book. She pulled it from the shelf and turned to show Mulder. “Besides, I think this person already stole your memoir title.”

He looked over at her and read the cover: _How to Lose Friends and Alienate People._ He snorted. “See? That guy beat me to it.” He once again returned to the shelf filled with books, occasionally reading titles out loud. “Here we go. ‘How to Make Every Man Want You.’ Did you write this one, Scully?”

She rolled her eyes, and after a few moments she grabbed a book from the shelf, putting it under her arm. She crossed the room, walking towards the front of the shop, and made her way to the counter. After purchasing the book, one of the storeowners giftwrapped it for her. Scully then walked back to the self-help section, where Mulder was holding a book in his hands and staring down at the cover. Once she was standing by his side, she looked at it. _How to Be Happy, Even When You Shouldn’t_ by Onan Gupta. She chuckled at the title, but when he didn’t respond she glanced up at him, noticing his furrowed brows and pursed lips. Her gaze then went back to the book just as he was returning it to the shelf.

“I’m ready to go if you are,” he said as he turned towards her.

She licked her lips and nodded. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

Their short drive back to the beach house was a quiet one. While they had arranged to stay an extra two months longer than their initial agreement, they both knew they couldn’t stay in the rental forever. Neither had spoken about where they would go from here, knowing they were just over a week away from having to be out of the oceanfront property. They had spent nearly six months living day to day, with no plans made or discussions about the future had.

But Scully knew that would be coming to an end very soon, possibly sooner than Mulder realized if her weekend plan came to fruition. They would need to have a serious conversation about their future, and plans would have to be made. As she pulled into the long concrete driveway of the beach house, she thought of that book Mulder had been holding and wondered what he’d been thinking as he’d looked at it. She gazed over at him as he quietly unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door. Could they be happy? Truly?

As she followed Mulder up the wooden staircase to the front screened-in porch, an image of her son flashed in her mind, a memory of leaving him behind at St. John’s Church in Alexandria. A feeling of guilt welled up inside her. She wondered if, when looking at that book, whether Mulder had also dwelt on similar memories, on difficult past decisions. Should they be happy? Did they deserve to be? As she reached into her bag to grab the house key, her hand brushed against the silver Nokia cell phone that Doggett had given her all those months ago in New Mexico. Just like the day before, it hadn’t rung nor had there been any text messages. She could only hope that all was well.

*****

Later that Saturday afternoon, after a two hour drive north through the bayou, they arrived in New Orleans. After checking into the Bourbon Orleans Hotel, an historic hotel in the French Quarter, they were shown to their balcony loft suite.

Mulder looked around the spacious living area, complete with couch, armchair, and flat screen television. “You got us a suite?”

Scully smiled. “Surprise.”

He shook his head as he stepped further into the room. “I didn’t need all this.”

“You don’t turn 41 years old every day.”

He chuckled, turning back to look at her. “Forty-one isn’t that special.”

She gave him a small smile, nodding. “But I missed your 40th.”

He sighed, his expression saddening, and he averted his eyes from hers to look at the brick wall painted red. “Yeah.”

“We should take our bags upstairs,” she said as she moved towards the black staircase.

They climbed the stairs to the upper level of the loft suite, finding a bedroom with a queen-sized bed and a bathroom with a walk-in shower. After setting her weekender bag down on the hunter green rug covering the hardwood floor, Scully crossed the room to the French doors. Upon opening them, she stepped out onto a private balcony that overlooked Saint Ann Street.

“The air smells different here,” she remarked, taking a deep breath as her eyes took in the activities below.

He joined her on the balcony, standing next to her, and looked down at the bustling street below. He then turned his back to the city view and leaned his ass against the railing. Spreading his legs, he grasped her arm and gently pulled her over to stand between them. As she placed her left palm against his chest, her right arm wrapped around his waist, her hand finding its way inside his charcoal gray t-shirt to brush the warm skin of his back.

Mulder smiled as he placed his hands on her hips. “This was a nice surprise.”

Scully smiled in return, fighting a grin.

He stared at the dimple in her cheek before taking in her expression. He thought he saw mischief glinting in her eyes. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” she replied, giving off a breathy laugh.

“You’re hiding something from me,” he said, his mouth curving into a smirk.

She felt herself blush and inwardly chided herself. “I’m just hopeful that you’ll enjoy your birthday.”

He nodded, not quite believing her. “Uh-huh. Well, I’m already enjoying it.”

She smiled up at him. Their gaze held for a long moment. The look in their eyes said everything they needed to know.

“I’m starving,” Scully whispered as she reached with her left hand to the back of his neck and pulled his lips down to meet hers.

Her resolve to head out as soon as possible to get some food evaporated as quickly as morning fog on a hot summer’s day. She lost control of the kiss instantly as Mulder devoured her mouth, his tongue pressing in and caressing the tender flesh inside. His kiss was a heady sensation, one her body could never get enough of. His hands then quickly found their way down her blue jeans, kneading her ass with intent as he pulled her closer to him.

“I wanted us to eat right away, but I guess we can hold off on that for a bit,” she said, kissing the side of his mouth.

“Well, I’m gonna eat right now,” he replied suggestively, lifting her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist. His hands continued to caress her backside as he carried her back into the bedroom.

Later, they departed the suite to check out the area. The sun shone brightly on the streets that led from the Riverwalk Marketplace to Jackson Square. As expected, the French Quarter was filled with pedestrians, both locals and tourists, roaming each block. Mulder and Scully eyed the crowds, before choosing to walk behind a group of the most inattentive people they could find, quickly blending in.

Hand-in-hand, they approached one of the many street food vendors that dotted the Quarter. This particular vendor specialized in his own inventive takes on classic grilled cheese. After each ordering pulled pork with bleu on a French roll, they continued their casual stroll through the neighborhood, eating their sandwiches while taking in the sights and sounds of the Cajun city.

“So what have you planned for us tonight?” Mulder asked as they walked around the open-air mall of the French Market.

“I made dinner reservations for 9:00,” Scully answered.

He looked over at her. “So late?”

She shrugged. “It’s not late for a Saturday night in New Orleans.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” he replied, nodding in agreement. In the few times they’d visited the city in the last six months, the place really seemed to come alive once the sun went down.

After spending a couple hours wandering around shops, galleries, and along the riverfront, Mulder and Scully made their way back to the Bourbon Orleans Hotel. Once they’d showered and dressed, the hotel concierge ordered them a taxi and at 9:05 pm they were seated at a table for two inside the dimly lit French restaurant, Le Belle chasse.

Over their meals of duck leg confit and poached drum with potato puree and bacon-smoked field peas, and champagne cocktails, they smiled and laughed through dinner. Once their waiter had cleared their plates away, Mulder watched Scully turn in her seat to retrieve something from her leather bag that hung over the back of her chair. He sipped from his champagne cocktail as she turned back and placed a giftwrapped present on the table, sliding it towards him.

“Surprise,” she said quietly, winking at him from across the table as she lifted her own crystal tumbler to her lips.

“More birthday surprises?” he said teasingly.

Mulder reached for the gift, and ripped open the silver and blue wrapping paper. It was a book from their excursion to the Moby Dickens Bookstore just that morning. He stared down at the title and starting laughing: _Knitting with Dog Hair._ “‘Better a sweater from a dog you know and love than from a sheep you’ll never meet,’” he read aloud.

Scully chuckled. “I thought you could use a new hobby.”

He looked up at her, grinning and shaking his head. His face then fell in mock disappointment, and he sighed. “I had my heart set on octopus porn.”

She clicked her tongue and shrugged. “Maybe next year.”

“Thank you,” he whispered as he slid his hand across the table towards her.

She took his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. “For what? We don’t even have a dog,” she said, chuckling.

He smiled. “You always keep me guessing.”

Scully nodded, but her stomach tightened into a ball of anxiety. She hoped he would react positively to what she had planned for tomorrow. Mulder noticed a flicker of uncertainty cloud her features, but then just as quickly it was gone and the blue eyes looking back at him sparkled once again. Yet a wave of sadness suddenly washed over him.

“You deserve so much more, so much better than this, better than me.”

“Don’t talk like that,” she said kindly, squeezing his hand. Her mouth then curved into a smirk. “Besides, there’s no one who deserves me. So it might as well be you.”

He laughed, nodding his head and squeezing her hand in return.

*****

Thirty minutes later, Mulder and Scully were walking back inside their suite at the Bourbon Orleans Hotel. Closing and locking the French doors behind him, he turned into the room and saw her leaning against the wall next to the staircase. The room was still darkened, as they hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights. Mulder had a fleeting notion that they possibly were becoming too careless in their prolonged life on the lam, despite the real danger that could still be lurking around any corner.

But these anxious thoughts were pushed from his mind as he moved across the room towards the woman he loved. He took in her hourglass shape, the soft red curls hanging loose over her shoulders, and her sleeveless white lace dress that stopped just above her knees. When he reached her, he encircled her waist with his arms and pressed a kiss to her lips. She draped an arm over his shoulders. Her tongue fitted against his lips, taking small strokes, relishing the contact and making him almost dizzy with want. Scully’s kiss was gentle, exploratory. She was skilled without being demanding. Her lips didn’t rush or command. They savored. Mulder uttered a silent wish that he would be able to hold her like this for the rest of his life.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed, drawing her tight against him. He cupped the round of her ass and slid one hand beneath her skirt. Her cheek fit in his large palm and he reveled in the feel of the tight muscle as he kneaded. He nudged her gently with his erection to let her know just how good she felt. When she moaned, he broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers.

“I want you.”

The sandpapery whisper of his voice caused the slow burn to become licking flames. Scully extricated herself from his arms with a smirk and started making her way up the stairs to the bedroom. Once she crossed the threshold, she kicked off her red heels and shimmied out of her damp underwear, tossing them beside the bed. Mulder followed her into the room and clutched at his already loosened tie. Halfway through his shirt buttons, his fingers stopped as he stared as she pulled the lace cocktail dress over her head. Her bare ass came into view. Toned legs and shapely hips. Soft red hair that fell down her back past her shoulders. She wore a white bra and her hands worked behind her back.

When Scully turned to crawl up on the bed, Mulder hurried to remove the rest of his clothes. The first touch of her bare breasts against his chest caused an intake of breath and an aching ball of desire to tighten in the pit of his stomach. She kissed him again, slowly, starting at the corner of his mouth, and then fully engaging as their mouths fused together in determined need. Her hands were soft and smooth over his back and shoulders. He inhaled the scent and feel of her neck. He tasted the soft skin, pressed his lips behind her ear, and traced back to her mouth again.

Mulder knew she would be wet, but he traced a finger between her legs to be sure. She was soaked. He angled his hips, allowing his hard cock to find home. Gripping the thick base of his erection, he coated himself in her wetness before guiding it to her entrance. As he pushed into Scully, she sighed and her eyes drifted closed at the exquisite sensation.

Her breath caressed his neck. Her fingernails dug into his back. When his cock reached her depths, he felt the tight squeeze of her muscles. He lowered his head over hers and started a slow thrust, wanting to please her more than anything. Ever. He ground his hips and angled to give her more. He felt the change in her body, the tension dispersing. The swell and wetness between her legs, and her moaning in unison with her movements beneath him. Her hands sought his ass and clutched him, pulling him deeper. He thrust hard and deep. She moaned loudly, and he felt her inner muscles clench around him as she arched off the mattress.

Coming down from her high, Scully opened her eyes and smiled up at Mulder above her, before grinning and pushing him over until he lay on his back with his head against the pillow. She then straddled his groin and sat up.

“Stay still and relax,” she whispered. She then looked over at the digital clock on the bedside table. It was 12:04 am on October 13th. She turned back and smiled down at him. “Happy birthday.”

His hands caressed her thighs as he gazed up at her. Her fingertips lightly traced over his chest, circling his nipples. They wrinkled in anticipation as his breathing once again quickened. When she pinched them, an electric shock shuddered through his body all the way to his curling toes. She hummed as she stroked him, a throaty melody that was more a low moan than anything musical. His body tingled with pleasure and his eyes closed. Her hands swirled over his abdomen, moving lower to grasp his rigid erection, and stroked. Both her hands urged its straining length up inside as she lowered herself over him.

Mulder opened his eyes with a gasp. Watching her move above him only added to his pleasure. She rose and fell over him in a steady rhythm. He let go of any impulse to dominate and kept his arms still on the mattress, only his hands moving to lightly brush the soft skin of her thighs. He savored the soft, wet motion around his throbbing cock as it became a vicelike grip with a strength that was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before intimacy with her.

As she rode him, Scully felt his cock drive deep into her, stroking that sensitive spot inside at the perfect angle. It was enough to keep her in a permanent state of passionate lust. She felt her muscles begin to tighten, that bundle of nerves at her center throb, and felt her release just over the precipice.

“Mulder,” she whispered breathily, a sound that almost seemed to be pleading. “Mulder…”

He opened his eyes and looked up at her. He saw her flushed red skin, her face grimacing with desperate concentration. “Scully.”

She looked down into his eyes and found their connection, the one they had been searching for their entire lives. She was ice and he was fire. She was earth and he was sky. Knowing she was on the verge, he lifted his right hand and pressed his thumb to her clit in slow, tight circles. Her body instantly became enflamed and she started to climax, the contractions around his cock so powerful they almost forced him from her body. Her moaning built louder and louder until she cried out as a pulsing flow of warm fluid rushed out from her center, soaking his pelvis. His own climax triggered, and he groaned in mindless ecstasy as the heat of his own release filled her.

“Scully,” he breathed heavily as she lay next to him moments later. “The sheets.”

“I know,” she replied, snuggling against him. “I already asked the hotel to stock our room with an extra set. It’s in the bathroom.”

He sighed. He could still feel his heart pounding. “That means we have to move.”

She chuckled, her hand moving to his chest.

“This was a great birthday.”

Scully stared out into the darkness of the room, her stomach filling with nervous butterflies. “It’s not over yet, Mulder.”

*****

That morning they rose, showered, and dressed. While Mulder sat out on the balcony drinking coffee and reading the Sunday paper, Scully started to pack up their clothes a little in preparation for their departure back to Grand Isle later that afternoon. She checked the Nokia that she’d plugged into the wall and set on top of the dresser. As always, she hoped no news was good news.

Just before noon, they took the 20 minute walk down Royal Street to Lafayette Square Park. The area was packed with a vast crowd made up of both locals and tourists, all gathered to enjoy the second day of the NOLA Blues & BBQ Festival. The audience clapped, cheered, and wolf-whistled as the Rockin’ Bobby Blues Band performed on the large stage. Scully took Mulder’s hand, threading their fingers, and they slipped into the park, making their way through to the other side of the crowd.

She led them over to Balthazar BBQ, a brasserie that boasted both excellent French and Southern fare, and outdoor patio seating, just across the street from Lafayette Square Park. The blues playing from the concert stage carried, filling the whole area, and the patrons sitting at the white linen-covered tables on the patio were thoroughly enjoying themselves, tapping their hands and feet to the beat of the music.

After waiting for about 35 minutes, Mulder and Scully were seated at a table on the outdoor patio. They each ordered a bottle of Rolling Rock and perused the lunch menu, quickly settling on the barbecue beef brisket with mac and cheese, roasted Brussels sprouts, and ginger-sesame slaw. Their waitress soon appeared with their plates, and they tucked in to the delicious food.

It wasn’t that long before their waitress took their plates away and they were sipping from their second round of beer, enjoying the music from the festival. But with each passing minute, Scully’s stomach knotted more and more, and her palms started to sweat. She kept glancing around at the faces milling about Saint Charles Street, moving to and from Lafayette Square Park. She felt like her heart was going to beat right out of her chest.

“Are you okay, Scully?”

“Yeah, Mulder, I’m fine,” she replied, returning her gaze back to meet his across the table. “Why?”

His brows furrowed. “Well… you seem a little preoccupied.”

“I’m okay,” she replied, shrugging. She then sighed and nervously wrung her fingers together before quickly stopping herself. Looking for something to keep her hands busy, she reached for her bottle of Rolling Rock and brought it up to her lips. She didn’t notice the tall man with broad shoulders and wearing a black New Orleans Saints hat approach the outdoor patio.

Just a few seconds later, Walter Skinner slid into the chair next to Mulder’s. He then quickly turned, showing them his back, and bent his head, exposing the bare skin of his neck. In almost the next moment, Scully started to cry as Skinner turned around. Mulder stared at both in wide-eyed shock. He felt like his head was spinning. What the hell was going on? What was happening? He looked at his former boss in disbelief, as if he didn’t truly believe he was sitting right there. This had to be a dream. This couldn’t be happening.

“Dana,” Skinner whispered imploringly, reaching out to grasp her hand. “You don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to our table.”

She sniffed and nodded, quickly wiping the tears from her face.

At the familiar sound of the man’s voice, it dawned on Mulder that it was all real. He also realized why he’d been shown the back of the man’s neck. To prove he was human. “Skinner?”

“We have to be quick because I can’t hang around here for long,” he replied.

Mulder looked over at Scully’s reddened face and saw that she wasn’t surprised in the slightest to see Skinner sitting there. He stared at her and their gaze held for a moment before she averted her eyes from his. He then looked back at his old friend. “Why are you here? You’ve put yourself and us at risk. How do you know you haven’t been followed?”

Skinner took a deep sigh. “I’ve been in New Orleans since Thursday. I stuck to Lafayette Square. I’ve traced and re-traced my steps. I wasn’t followed, I assure you. I happen to be a damn good FBI agent, unless you’ve forgotten.”

Sighing, Mulder shook his head and then looked over at Scully. “Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

She swallowed and then glanced nervously between her partner and her former boss. “Skinner called on Monday morning, when you were out for a run. He has some good news. I would’ve told you myself, but we didn’t think you’d truly believe it unless you heard it straight from him.”

Mulder’s mouth fell open and he turned a hopeful expression on their surprise guest. “Good news?”

“As of September, the FBI and the Defense Department has dropped their investigations into your whereabouts,” Skinner replied.

“Really?” he replied, eyes widening.

Skinner nodded. “The charges against you still stand, of course, but there is no longer an active investigation and law enforcement is no longer in pursuit, so to speak.” He sighed, and glanced over at Scully before turning his attention back to Mulder. “Also, any and all charges brought against Dana have been dropped and expunged from her record.”

Mulder’s eyes widened again. “How?”

“I believe Bill Scully Jr called in some favors,” replied Skinner, who then looked over at Scully again. “I also heard it suggested that there was a strong possibility that the two of you had separated. Anyways, you’re free to return to work. I wouldn’t suggest the FBI, but you’re free to pursue your career in medicine. If you want to.”

“And what if she returns to society, and gets a job somewhere? How do you know they won’t come after us? How do you know we’re safe?”

Skinner looked at Mulder. “The military’s biggest fear was that you would go public. That you’d put yourself in front of a television camera or you’d sit down with a newspaper journalist and sing like a canary. The fact that you’ve all but disappeared works for them, too. Short of killing you, they are not going to accept any other possible outcomes that might result from continuing the investigation.”

Mulder blinked, giving him a deadpan look. “Let’s discuss that _short-of-killing-you_ part. Do the words _lethal injection_ ring any bells?”

“Your apprehension by the police or the FBI would only bring untold media attention that they want nothing more than to avoid,” Skinner replied. “It would be a political embarrassment. Any further attempts to apprehend you or take you out have been terminated.” He sighed. “But that doesn’t mean you can just go for an afternoon stroll through downtown D.C. or hop on a plane and fly to Mexico. The charges still stand. You are still listed as a person of interest.”

“But we _can_ build a life somewhere, Mulder,” said Scully, tears pricking her eyes. “Put down roots. Something more permanent.”

Skinner looked between them as they carried out a silent conversation. “Well, that’s a conversation you two should have privately. I only wanted to give you the good news. I’ve got to go. Got a seven o’clock flight to catch in Pensacola tonight.”

All three stood up from the table. Mulder and Scully didn’t know what to say. Skinner reached for Mulder and pulled him into a hug. “You take care of yourself. And happy birthday.”

He snorted. “Thanks, Skinner. For everything. You have no idea how good it was to see your face, despite the shock.”

They chuckled and stepped out the hug. Skinner then turned towards Scully and gave her a hug as well. “Call on me, anytime. Whenever you need anything. I’ll do everything I can.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I will. And thank you.”

Mulder placed his hand on Skinner’s shoulder. “All right, all right. That’s enough.”

Scully stepped back and rolled her eyes. Skinner only shook his head. Mulder stared at his partner in mock suspicion as she shot him a sarcastic look. “I can think of a couple of those self-help books that are going to come in handy for you later,” she said dryly.

When they turned back to look at Skinner, he was gone. The place where he’d just been standing was now vacant. As they looked out into the street, Mulder thought he caught a glimpse of a tall man with broad shoulders wearing a black baseball cap disappear into the crowd.

“I guess he _is_ a pretty good FBI agent,” Mulder deadpanned. “He should write a book.”

Scully snorted, and catching the eye of their waitress, signaled for their check.

Upon returning to their hotel suite, they decided to depart and head back to Grand Isle. Mulder no longer felt comfortable in New Orleans, now feeling exposed, and wanted to get out of the city as soon as possible. A two hour drive south brought them back to the familiar salty scent of the ocean air and the comforting beach house they’d called home for the past six months. Later that night, Scully sat cross-legged on their bed facing him while he sat with his legs stretched out in front of him.

“If we were to settle down somewhere, where do you think would be the last place the government would expect us to be?” Mulder asked her.

“Um… anywhere near Washington?” she answered. “Or near any military base, for that matter.”

He nodded, rubbing his fingers over his bottom lip as he thought about their new circumstances. “You could go home to your family, to your mother. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

She suddenly felt a lump grow in her throat and she blinked back tears. She found she couldn’t speak.

“You heard Skinner,” he said, pressing further. “This is your chance. You’re free. You’re safe. Your family is no doubt safe. Your life can return to normal. You want to go home, don’t you?”

“Mulder, I don’t want to go anywhere without you,” she choked out.

He reached for her hand and held it in his palm. “You won’t have to, Scully.” He then fell silent, giving the matter some more thought. “We couldn’t settle down in Alexandria, anyways. It would be too dangerous.” He sighed, pausing again. “But maybe we could go home, in a way.”

Her eyes searched his face. “What do you mean?”

“What if we went home to Virginia, but stayed far enough away from the Metropolitan area to avoid the government’s radar?” he proposed. “We could be fairly close to your mother, and maybe even Charlie. A lot closer than we’ve been. You do want to go home, don’t you? You never talk about it, about them. But I’m right, aren’t I? You _do_ want to go home.”

Unable to fight back the tears any longer, she moved towards him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her face into his neck as he pulled her close and held her. Mulder made a silent promise that he’d do everything he could to help her rebuild her life. He felt he owed it to her, that it was the least he could do when he felt responsible for its ruined state.

“Let’s go home, Scully,” he whispered.

She found she couldn’t speak, and could only cry tears of relief.


	142. "I think it's about something we have no personal choice in. I think it's about fate."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully begin their journey back home and prepare for a reunion. A familiar place stirs some memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Band of Horses - "On My Way Back Home"
> 
> On my way back home, by chance I thought of  
> All my favorite songs, where I'd gone wrong  
> The only words that I could think of  
> I'm pissing my life away in the form of a song
> 
> On my way back home
> 
> Every step, a victory it was  
> I was cheating death, just in time I woke  
> My memories start to wander off  
> Come to me, the remembrance of
> 
> On my way back home
> 
> I came in this way and here now I'll stay  
> If the unknown have to wait one more day  
> There's often times that it comes out wrong  
> But luckily I, I got a mind to know
> 
> On my way back home

On Thursday morning, October 17th, Mulder walked out of their oceanfront beach house, carrying the last of their luggage and placing the bags in the back of the Jeep. He then climbed up the wooden staircase and walked back into the house. He called out for Scully as he stepped across the threshold, but there was no answer. He started walking through the living room and glimpsed her out on the deck. After reaching the back of the house, he opened the sliding glass door.

Scully turned around at the sound of the door opening and gave him a hesitant smile. “The car packed?”

He nodded. “Yep. You ready to go?”

She turned back to gaze out at the blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico. She’d felt at peace there, the ever-present sunshine and salty ocean air doing wonders to clear her mind and lift her spirits. She felt that they’d been able to mend some of the wounds that had been inflicted on them, both by others and by each other. Yet she knew difficulty lay in front of them, and that was to be expected. As much as the thought of going home again made her heart swell with emotion and a longing to see her family, the idea of that reunion knotted her stomach and filled her with anxiety. How could she look her mother in the face? How could she ever ask for forgiveness for the pain she’d caused?

“Scully?”

She turned to face him, taking a deep breath and smiling. She then walked towards him before slipping her hand into his. “Yeah.”

He smiled in return, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

After dropping the house keys off at the rental office and grabbing a quick breakfast at a local diner, they got on the highway, heading north. They drove past New Orleans and into Mississippi, before crossing the state border into Florida and then into Alabama. Eight hours after departing Grand Isle, Louisiana, they arrived in the city of Montgomery, where they rented a motel room for the night. Early on Friday morning they departed Montgomery, merging onto highway I-85 North.

They crossed state borders and drove through Georgia, passing by Atlanta, and crossed the border into South Carolina. After stopping for lunch in Greenville, they got back on the highway and not long after arrived in Charlotte, North Carolina around 2:30 in the afternoon. In Charlotte, they stopped to fill the gas tank. Scully walked inside the convenience store and asked for directions to the closest Walmart. Ten minutes later, she was pulling the Jeep in the superstore’s parking lot.

“You should stay in the car,” she said to Mulder as they unbuckled their seat belts.

He furrowed his brows as he stared back at her.

She sighed. “There are cameras all over. We’re a lot closer to home now, and I just don’t want to risk… anything.”

He sighed resignedly, briefly wondering at what restrictions their new life spent close to home might have on them. He then gave her a small smile, nodding. “You’re right. I’ll wait here. But don’t make the phone call until you get back.”

“I won’t,” she replied, before opening the passenger side door and sliding out.

Once inside the store, Scully made her way to the electronics department and purchased a prepaid cell phone with cash, before quickly returning to the Jeep. Once she was sitting in the passenger seat, Mulder handed her one of the phone cards that had been bestowed upon him by the Lone Gunmen. She then dialed Information and requested the phone number she needed. She wrote down the number given on a pad of paper she’d gotten during one of their many motel stays, before hanging up.

She looked at Mulder and took a deep breath, her heart starting to pound. “Do you still think this is a good idea?”

He looked at her for a moment. “It’s much safer for them to come to us, than for us to go anywhere near Washington. Besides, they can help us, remember? I’m sure they need to see you, just as you need to see them. And we have Skinner’s assurances.”

She nodded, feeling a little more at ease. The last thing she wanted was to be the tool used in order for the authorities to trap Mulder. She could only hope that the charges against her had been truly dropped and that her family was no longer any interest to the FBI. Using the calling card, she dialed the number she’d written down on her small notepad.

“Good afternoon, Towson Catholic High School. How may I help you?” greeted the friendly voice on the line.

“Hello. I’d like to speak with Charles Scully.”

“Okay, please hold.”

She took another deep breath and waited as she listened to the school’s on-hold recorded message playing.

Then the line picked up. “Coach Scully.”

“Charlie?”

“Oh my God, Dana?”

A flutter of nerves filled her stomach. “Yes. It’s me. How are you? How’s Jennifer? Is everything okay?”

Her brother heaved a sigh. “Yes, yes. We’re doing fine. What about you? Are you all right?”

“I’m good. Really. There are some things I’d like to talk to you about…”

“Anything!” he replied enthusiastically into the phone line. “What do you need?”

She paused. “I don’t think it’s good to speak over the phone. But I was thinking that this weekend might be a good time to take the family on a trip somewhere. Maybe… Virginia Beach?”

Silence. “Virginia… Virginia Beach?”

“Yeah. I mean, the basketball season hasn’t started yet and so it might not be a bad idea to take the family on a little weekend getaway before your schedule gets crazy. Virginia Beach is nice, not so far away. And the weather is supposed to be beautiful.”

Charlie let out a breathy, nervous laugh into the receiver. “Virginia Beach?”

She cleared her throat. “Yeah. Say if you were to show up at the Residence Inn tomorrow afternoon at 3:00 and you gave the front desk clerk your name, there could be a nice room available for you guys. It’s right on the beach and the kids would love it.” She paused, her stomach knotting. “And you know, I, uh, I’d think Mom would like it. You should take her, too.”

“Jesus Christ. Dana, are you serious? Is this for real?”

“Just think about it, okay?” she replied, avoiding his questions. “I’ll talk to you later.” She then promptly hung up the phone.

Scully turned the cell phone off and looked over at Mulder, her brows knitting. He gave her a reassuring smile and reached out to place his hand on her upper thigh. “It’s gonna be okay.”

She nodded, swallowing. She could only hope he was right. Soon after they were back on the highway, and in less than three hours they crossed the state border, leaving North Carolina behind. A large blue sign on the side of the road greeted them with the words, “Welcome to Virginia.”

*****

On Saturday afternoon, Mulder and Scully sat on the couch in their hotel suite at the Residence Inn Virginia Beach. The television was turned on, but muted. They weren’t speaking, in an effort to make as little noise as possible in order to listen to any noises around them. Scully glanced at her watch; it was 3:02 pm. Her eyes darted to the wall in front of her, over to the sliding glass door that led out to the balcony, and then over to Mulder, who sat next to her. He placed a calming hand on her upper back.

A memory then stirred in his mind, and he smiled. “You’re very different, you know.”

Her brows knitted in confusion. “Different than what?”

“Different than how you used to be,” he replied, still smiling. “Do you remember the first time we came to Virginia Beach?”

“Um…” She leaned back against the couch, thinking. “Vaguely. We were investigating that biotech company. There had been some mysterious murders… that didn’t turn out to be so mysterious.”

He nodded. “Do you remember anything else?”

She tried to think of the circumstances surrounding the case: where it had originated from, traveling to and from Virginia Beach, writing the case report. It was difficult to get a clear picture of what had been going on at the time. She shook her head slowly, unable to latch onto any memories.

“It was the summer of ‘95,” he said. “I guess I’m not surprised you don’t remember too much. It wasn’t a great summer.”

Suddenly, memories washed over Scully, and she remembered…

August 25, 1995

Mulder heaved a sigh as he shut the car door. “Well, that was a complete waste of time.”

She looked over at him as she buckled her seat belt in the passenger seat. “We caught the killer. Justice will be served.”

“Anyone could’ve done that,” he replied bitterly. “The guy wasn’t exactly a genius.” He sighed, remembering a clandestine conversation with Mr. X just three days ago. “I thought we’d find proof, that these deaths were a sign of… something. I thought we’d find a link between Roush Technologies and government experiments.”

“So it wasn’t what you thought it was? That’s nothing new. But we still solved the case. Our coming here was worthwhile to the families of the victims, who can now feel comforted that Christopher Abbott is behind bars.”

He leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes and sighing. He’d been led to believe this case would lead them to something big. Instead, he’d simply uncovered a revenge plot by an angry ex-employee directed at his former employer.

She studied him for a moment. “I think you’re just tired and miserable. I blame the heat.”

Mulder groaned. The whole summer had been miserable. “It’s hotter than hell. The A/C quitting on us was the cherry on top. We should’ve just stayed in Washington.”

“So let’s go home,” she said.

“You want to be dropped off at your mother’s?” he asked, turning the key in the ignition.

She nodded, and turned her head to look out the window. She hadn’t spoken to her mom since Tuesday and was anxious to check up on her.

As they drove through Norfolk heading for the highway, Mulder suddenly spied a sign for Virginia Beach, just 18 miles away. Instead of getting onto I-64 North, he merged onto I-264 East. After several minutes, she came out of her reverie and started paying attention to their surroundings.

“Where are we going?” she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“I thought we could make the trip down here a little more worthwhile,” he answered. “Have you ever been to Virginia Beach?”

She stared at him. “Yes. We used to come down here for vacation when I was a kid.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Me too. When was the last time you were here?”

“Um… I was here for spring break my senior year in college,” she replied.

“Oh, really?” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her. “Let me guess. Big hair, tiny bikinis, and lots of hangovers?”

She shoved her tongue against her cheek, trying not to give him the satisfaction of an embarrassed reaction. She didn’t think she succeeded as he started laughing. She turned to glare at him. “And when was the last time you were there?”

He shrugged. “When I was a kid. When my parents were still married. Before Samantha…” He trailed off, not finishing the sentence. “Anyways, as we’re in the area, why not visit?”

She sighed, but didn’t protest. Mulder had been doing this all summer. When a case would come to an end, he’d inevitably find some way to postpone their return home. She’d asked him about it a few times, but he always professed ignorance and claimed to have no motives in delaying their arrival back in D.C. Twenty-five minutes after leaving Norfolk, they arrived in Virginia Beach. After getting a table at Blue Surfside Grille, they dined on crab legs and cold beer. Their small wooden mallets pounded the hard shells. All the cracking, snapping, and grimacing proved therapeutic, and soon they were smiling and laughing.

By the time they walked out of the restaurant, the sun had set and darkness covered the city. The air had only marginally cooled, the humidity overwhelming them as they stepped outside and headed for their Lariat rental car. Mulder drove down Atlantic Avenue, and they gazed out at the dark waters of the ocean. After a couple minutes he pulled over and put the car into park, shutting the engine off.

“What now? I thought we were going home?” she questioned.

“Let’s go down to the beach, Scully.”

She blinked at him. “Why? It’s late.”

He opened his car door. “We’re already down here. Why not?”

She heaved a sigh as he got out and shut the door behind him, before unbuckling her own seatbelt and getting out of the vehicle. They walked from the side of the road down to the deserted beach. The moon and stars brightly lit the cloudless sky. The ocean surface glimmered. Mulder wiped the sweat beading at his brow.

“Let’s go swimming, Scully.”

“What? Mulder, you’re crazy.”

He turned and grinned at her, and then started unbuttoning his white shirt. The tie had already been long abandoned. “Why not, Scully? It’ll be a relief.”

She stared at him, speechless. He removed the dress shirt and the white cotton undershirt he had worn underneath, and tossed them onto the sand. When he started going for his shoes, he spoke again. “C’mon, Scully. Live a little.”

She then found her voice. “Oh yeah, Mulder. You’re Mr. Life of the Party. This is ridiculous. We don’t even have bathing suits.”

His hands went to his belt, making quick work of the buckle, before moving to his button and zipper. “So? You’re wearing underwear, aren’t you?”

Her eyes bulged. “I’m not taking my clothes off in public!”

He chuckled, shoving his navy blue suit pants down to his ankles. “Scully, there’s no one around except me.”

“Well, I’m not taking my clothes off in front of you, either,” she said pointedly.

“Why? It’s just me. Nothing I haven’t seen before.” He removed his socks and added them to the small pile of clothing he’d created.

She crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow at him, pursing her lips in response.

He shrugged. “Fine, suit yourself.”

She then watched as Mulder strode off towards the water in nothing but his heather gray boxer briefs. As he submerged himself in the ocean, she heaved a sigh and sat down next to his clothing pile. She felt conflicted. She wanted to be present and enjoy this time with her partner, time they rarely spent leisurely. She remembered her old life. She used to have fun. She used to live for the moment, to act and damn the consequences. She rarely had fun these days, and she suspected the same was true of Mulder. Except he lived to work and rarely let on that he wanted to do anything but that. She felt she should be enjoying this while it lasted, the chance to spend their time together like most friends do. But her thoughts kept going to her mother.

Ever since her sister’s murder four months ago, she had been spending more time with her mom than usual. She felt a sense of guilt, knowing that bullet had been intended for her and the innocent life of her sister had been taken instead. If her sister hadn’t been killed, then surely she would have been. Was Mulder right when he said it was about fate? She wanted to attribute some meaning to her loss, but there had been no justice for Melissa. Not yet. She was bound and determined to achieve it. She knew deep down her mother didn’t blame her for what happened to Melissa, but she couldn’t help feeling responsible and she wanted to do whatever she could to make up for that loss.

Without even having to tell him, she felt that Mulder understood this somehow. He knew she was spending more time in Alexandria at her mother’s house lately. He’d kept their case load light, comparatively. He never accepted cases that required they get on a plane and travel far from home, without her ever having to ask this of him. The mood in the basement was somber, each separately dealing with their own tragic losses, yet quietly sharing the burden at the same time.

She wished they could talk more openly, but something always held her back from sharing more of herself with Mulder. Whenever she asked him how he was doing in the wake of his father’s murder, he would claim to be fine. But he’d then change the subject and the opportunity to speak of personal things would be passed over for more pressing matters at hand, like a slide show or a visit to the Lone Gunmen’s office.

“Scully!” he called out from where he swam. “The water’s great! You don’t know what you’re missing!”

“I grew up on the beach, Mulder!”

She waited for a reply, but none came. She watched his head disappear under the surface, before emerging moments later. Ten minutes later, he began making his way to shore. She watched him emerge from the water, bare-chested and dripping, the Atlantic extending forever behind him in the darkness. He walked confidently towards her, his soaked boxers clinging to him. The almost-grin on Mulder’s face as he approached her while she remained sitting in the sand sent her stomach into knots.

In the space of a heartbeat, her entire perception of her partner and the circumstances of them coming together seemed to change. In the early months of their partnership, she had felt drawn to him, even fascinated. Yet even as she struggled for some time with an indefinable urgency to help him, her feelings in the early days had been comparable to finding an injured and helpless child. Something almost maternal and instinctively compassionate had accompanied her thoughts of him. She’d considered her ability to help him in a professional manner, but then over time this progressed to some level of friendship, in the way that he had become a friend and constant support to her. But as she took in the man who stood in front of her, he was neither helpless nor a child, and the feelings that pumped through her veins from her pounding heart had nothing to do with friendship. Mulder was tall and strong and virile. And they were all alone. Their eyes met and held for a long moment.

She abruptly stood up. “We’ve wasted enough time. We need to get back.”

She grabbed the car keys from the pile of Mulder’s clothes and started walking back to the car. She got behind the steering wheel, adjusting the seat and the mirrors. She nervously wrung her hands in her lap while she waited for him to join her. She tried to tell herself that her place in his life had no romantic implications whatsoever, and it likely never would, so it was pointless to even allow her mind to wander in that direction for an instant.

But at the same time she couldn’t help dwelling on the way he’d looked down on the beach, the glistening ripple of muscles in his abdomen, his long, powerful legs. She also suddenly recalled how close and strong he’d held her when he’d rescued her from Pfaster eight months ago. She remembered his arms around her, holding her tight, his hand at the back of her head, his thumb stroking her tenderly, while he whispered words of comfort. As Mulder opened the passenger side door, a ferocious fluttering erupted in her stomach, making it difficult to keep her breathing calm…

Scully sighed and leaned forward, staring down at her hands in her lap. “How young and foolish I was. I should’ve gone swimming with you.”

Mulder chuckled. “Well, I don’t know. I think I was a bit overconfident in my ability to handle you wet and scantily clad. I ended up feeling grateful that you hadn’t gotten undressed and gone into the water with me. My life was complicated enough at the time.”

She let out a breathy laugh. “Life seems almost simpler now, which is strange to think about, considering. I still think I should’ve just said ‘to hell with it’ and went into the water with you.”

“But maybe you were right,” he said. “Maybe things happened when they were supposed to happen, and not any sooner. It’s all about timing.”

She smirked at him. “Fate?”

He grinned back at her. “Maybe making the right choices factors into our fate.”

“Did we?” she asked, feelings of uncertainty starting to well up inside her.

Before he could answer, at that moment a bustle of noise could be heard coming from the room next door. Several voices were heard speaking excitedly, although it was impossible to tell just what they were saying. Mulder and Scully stared at each other, butterflies filling their stomachs. Her breathing quickened and her heart pounded. He reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly.

She nodded and they stood up from the couch, crossing the room, past the kitchenette and dining area, and over to the door. Mulder checked his pocket to make sure he had a room key, and they opened the door, stepping out into the carpeted hallway. They walked to the next room and stood in front of the door. Scully felt a lump grow in her throat, and her stomach turn. On the other side of that door was her family. There were many times she thought this day would never come. She raised her hand, and knocked.


	143. "I was so afraid you could never forgive me."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully are reunited with her family. Plans are made.
> 
> Sidenote: Thank you to everyone leaving kudos and comments! There's so much going on in my life right now, not to mention X-Files Revival obsessing, that I haven't had time to respond to you all. But please know that I read every comment and I truly appreciate your thoughtful feedback! Hopefully I'll be able to carve out some time in the near future to start replying to your wonderful comments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mumford & Sons - "Ghosts That We Knew"
> 
> You saw my pain, washed out in the rain  
> And broken glass, saw the blood run from my veins  
> But you saw no fault, no cracks in my heart  
> And you knelt beside, my hope torn apart  
> But the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view  
> And we'll live a long life
> 
> So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light  
> Cause oh they gave me such a fright  
> But I will hold as long as you like  
> Just promise me we'll be all right
> 
> So lead me back  
> Turn south from that place  
> And close my eyes to my recent disgrace  
> Cause you know my call  
> And we'll share my all  
> And our children come and they will hear me roar
> 
> So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light  
> Cause oh they gave me such a fright  
> But I will hold as long as you like  
> Just promise me we'll be all right
> 
> But hold me still, bury my heart on the coals  
> And hold me still, bury my heart next to yours
> 
> So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light  
> Cause oh they gave me such a fright  
> But I will hold on with all of my might  
> Just promise me we'll be all right
> 
> The ghosts that we knew made us black and all blue  
> But we'll live a long life  
> And the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view  
> And we'll live a long life

May 13, 1995

On a warm and sunny Saturday morning, Mulder walked inside St. John’s Church in Alexandria. It was too beautiful a day for a funeral. The sun was too bright, the grass was too green, and the flowers were too colorful. The sky, which he felt should’ve been gray and bleak, was too blue, the clouds too white. But when he thought of the person for whom this memorial service was for, it somehow seemed fitting as he suddenly remembered something she’d once said to him.

_“You know, just because it’s positive and good doesn’t make it silly or trite.”_

He lingered in the back of the church, scanning the parishioners standing about the pews as he chewed his bottom lip. There wasn’t a large number in attendance, and the majority of rows were empty. He’d debated whether or not to even show up, whether or not his presence would be welcomed. His eyes quickly fell on a petite woman at the front of the church, her red hair falling just to her shoulders, his partner of two years. She was dressed all in black, same as her mother who stood nearby.

Margaret Scully did not look well. She was pale and gaunt, eyes red and puffy. She kept dabbing her face with a tissue she held in a trembling hand. It was obvious to Mulder that his stoic partner was doing everything she could to avoid looking in her mother’s direction. Fellow parishioners greeted them somberly, no doubt expressing their deepest condolences to the family. He gazed past them and saw an urn sitting atop a wooden table, a garland of white flowers spread around it. He sighed as his insides churned with burning guilt. He then slipped into the empty back row, sitting down and leaning over, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor.

After a few minutes, he sat up and once again his gaze zeroed in on Scully. He watched as the priest approached her and her mother. When he reached them, two men stood up from the front row to greet him, along with what appeared to be their wives. The men were fair, one tall and the other of average height, and each had red hair, although one was much darker than the other. Mulder thought both men looked to be around the same age as him, give or take a few years. He sighed. The Scully brothers. The shorter brother was flanked by a pretty woman with long, light brown hair tied back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. The woman held the hands of two small boys, Scully’s nephews whom she sometimes talked about.

Mulder had never seen the rest of Scully’s family before. He watched as she appeared to stiffen, to avoid eye contact with her brothers. And she still wouldn’t look at her mother. The priest spoke with the family for a few moments before moving away from them and heading for the altar. The Scully family sat down in the front row. Mulder watched Mrs. Scully sit on the end of the pew, her tallest son taking the seat next to her. He watched his partner sit down beside one of her nephews, eight spots down from her mother. He also noted that during the entire time the family had been standing together with the priest, Scully didn’t speak at all. Not to the priest, not to her brothers or their wives, not to her mother.

As soon as the priest began the funeral service, Margaret Scully became inconsolable. Mulder hung his head, sighing deeply and closing his eyes. He’d only interacted with Melissa Scully a few times. Occasionally she’d find her way to his basement office and whisk Scully away to have lunch somewhere. She’d greet him in a friendly manner and then they’d soon be gone. She always gave him a knowing smile, as if there was some secret she knew that somehow involved him. It usually made him uncomfortable, and he’d look away at his computer screen or bury his nose in a case file.

In all honesty, he hadn’t known Melissa very well. But she had been a friend to him at a time when he’d needed one the most. He’d sunk to a very dark place, as she had put it, and she helped pull him out of it. She didn’t deserve to die so young, and certainly not the way her life had cruelly ended. Mulder looked towards the front of the church and stared at the back of Scully’s head. It could’ve been her. The bullet that had taken the innocent life of her sister had been intended for his partner. Yet Scully was an innocent, too. Her only “crime” was standing by him and his cause. What would’ve happened had it been she who’d been killed, he didn’t want to think about. But he couldn’t stop himself from dwelling on it all the same.

When the eulogy came to a close, and both Scully brothers had spoken about their sister, Mulder listened as the priest announced that a private graveside ceremony would take place following the service. He seemed surprised that it was over, that Scully hadn’t gotten up to the podium and spoken about Melissa. As the congregation stood up to sing a chosen hymn, he anxiously glanced between his partner and her mother, whose sobs once again were heard among the music that began to play. He then watched as Scully inched away from her family, as if in an effort to separate herself from them. Did the family blame her? Did she blame herself?

Mulder sighed. His father had been murdered because he was finally going to tell him the truth; he was finally trying to help him. That digital tape. It had gotten his father killed. It had gotten Scully’s sister killed. It could’ve gotten her killed. It held answers, his father’s shameful secrets. He believed it held the truth of what had been done to Scully during her abduction. He thought those truths had been worth the risks they were taking. But as Mulder gazed at his grieving partner and her family, he felt self-loathing rise up in his throat like bile.

After a prayer, the priest dismissed those in attendance. Mulder watched as Scully turned around and almost immediately her gaze fell on him. Their eyes held for a long moment. He watched her chin quiver while she fought hard not to crumble as they stared at one another. Her gaze – warm, sympathetic, tender, and sad – spoke without words. In a heartbeat, he knew. He knew that if Scully had been the one who’d been killed, it would’ve been over for him. And he knew that if he ever lost her, he’d be forever alone. Her family started to make their way out of the row, and wanting to avoid coming face to face with Margaret Scully and her sons, Mulder quickly exited the back row and soon after the church.

*****

After Mulder checked his pocket to make sure he had a room key, he opened their hotel room door and stepped out into the carpeted hallway with Scully. They walked to the next room and stood in front of the door. Just like his partner, he felt knots tighten in his stomach. On the other side of that door was her family. How would they react?

Scully, her stomach filling with butterflies, took a deep breath and swallowed back the lump rising in her throat. She then raised her hand and knocked on the door. Mulder placed his hand on her upper back, providing reassurance and support. Almost immediately, the door flew open and there was a burst of noise. Voices sounded out, excitedly speaking “Dana” all at once. Arms and hands stretched out, grabbing hold of her and pulling her inside the room.

But Scully and Mulder’s initial panic over this waylaying soon vanished. After a moment it sunk in that she was surrounded by the smiling faces of her family. Her mother and Jennifer were crying. Charlie looked at her with tremendous relief. His children were talking excitedly at her. Everyone was hugging her. Tears filled her eyes and brimmed over when the arms of her mother wrapped around her and held her tight.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” she cried.

Maggie only held her daughter tighter.

Scully continued to cry. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I can’t imagine what this has been like for you.”

“You’re home now, Dana. Everything’s going to be all right.” Maggie stroked her daughter’s hair, still tightly holding onto her.

Mulder had quietly stepped inside the hotel room, shutting the door behind him and locking it while Scully’s family surrounded her. He watched the scene unfold, sadly gazing at the tears of joy and relief of the reunited family. Everyone in this room had suffered to some extent because of him, because of his choices. Would they greet him with anger? Resentment? Condemnation for what they’d been put through? Would they even want to see him? Would they all hate him now? Would Scully be forced to choose between him and her family? Would they make it clear that they never wanted to see him again? He wouldn’t blame them if they did. There was only so much one family could take. How could he bring himself to look Mrs. Scully in the face?

As if she’d read his mind, Maggie pulled out of the hug and turned from her daughter to look over at Mulder leaning back against the door. He bowed his head, averting his eyes from hers, his brows furrowing as he chewed his bottom lip. He wanted to run from the room. He wanted the earth to open up and swallow him. But soon Mrs. Scully was standing right in front of him and he lifted his head to look at her.

Maggie choked back a sob and threw her arms around Mulder, hugging him the way a mother would. “Oh Fox, I was so worried,” she cried.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, returning her hug. He wasn’t sure what else to say, and hadn’t prepared himself for this reaction. “None of this should’ve happened. I… I never wanted any of this to happen.”

She shook her head and pulled out of the hug to look up at him, her expression becoming stern. “It’s the FBI who should be sorry. Nothing can replace what was taken from you and from Dana. They should pay for what they’ve done.” She took a deep breath, and then lifted a hand to his cheek, giving him a smile. “Thank you. Thank you for taking care of my baby girl, and getting her safely back home to us.”

Mulder lifted his head and looked at Scully, their gaze holding for a long moment, speaking without words. What were they going to do now? Where would they go? Plans had to be arranged, their future discussed. They hoped her family would be understanding of their need to remain on the fringes of society, and that secrecy was likely their best protection.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Scully said, turning from him and looking at her sister-in-law.

Jennifer nodded, giving her a hesitant smile, and squeezed her hand. Scully smiled back, squeezing her hand in return. Charlie stepped closer and rubbed her back reassuringly. “Whatever you need, or whatever you need us to do, we’ll do it.”

She smiled gratefully at her younger brother, before turning her full attention on his redheaded children. Her nephews had seemingly sprouted like weeds, despite it being less than a year since she’d seen them last. Calculating in her mind, she knew Ben and Jack had to be 15 and 12 years of age, respectively. Ben was hanging onto the small hand of their sister Hannah, who was just a few months shy of her third birthday.

“I’ve missed you all so much,” Scully said to them while Jennifer crossed over to give Mulder a hug.

“We’ve all missed you too,” spoke Charlie. His boys nodded enthusiastically in agreement. He then walked over to Mulder as Maggie and Jennifer moved away, giving him a smile and holding out his hand. “ _You_ , too.”

Mulder reached out to shake his hand, smiling. He still didn’t know what to make of such a friendly greeting. Why didn’t they all blame him for ruining Scully’s life? Did they truly only blame the FBI, and not his own hand in the matter? The choices he’d made?

Charlie then lowered his voice and spoke conspiratorially. “The boys talk about you all the time. I think you’re their favorite uncle. But don’t tell Bill that.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He then cleared his throat. “Um… where is Bill Jr? I half-expected him to be here.”

“No,” answered Charlie. “It was too last minute to request an absence from the naval base. Jennifer also thought that all of us descending on Virginia Beach together might raise some red flags. Bill isn’t one for spontaneity.”

“Did he really get the charges against Scully dropped?” Mulder asked.

The room went quiet, and the others turned to look at the two men. Scully glanced between them. “Did he, Charlie? And _how?”_

Maggie glanced around the room at her family. “Maybe we should all sit down and have that talk.”

Soon the Scullys and Mulder were sitting in the living room area of the one bedroom residential suite. Charlie then proceeded to relay the story of Bill Jr using his annual vacation time to travel to the Annapolis Naval Base in Maryland. He looked up some old friends of their father’s, who called some contacts at the Department of Defense. They were made to understand that Scully no longer had any contact with Mulder and deserved another chance at proving herself to be an upstanding citizen. After a few days, Bill Jr was given word that the charges would be dropped and he soon returned to San Diego.

“That was back in July,” Charlie concluded from where he sat in one of the wooden dining table chairs. He then turned to look directly at his sister who sat on the couch next to their mother. “We’ve had several background checks run on you in the months since, the most recent just three weeks ago, and the charges are not there. Your record is clean. There is no sign of them.”

“And Mulder?” asked Scully, glancing anxiously over at her partner sitting in the leather desk chair.

Charlie sighed. “He’s still charged with the murder of a marine, whose name is conveniently missing from the report. He’s also charged with prison escape, so that’s another felony.”

She shook her head, as hot, angry tears pricked her eyes. None of it was news to her, but the injustice of it all still filled her with painful rage. She wondered if anything could ever be done to vindicate him, but didn’t have much hope. Maggie reached out and took her hand, holding it in her palm. Scully sighed. “I’m fine.”

Mulder glanced between his partner and her mother, thankful that the charges against her had been dropped, that she was no longer a target. He felt thankful for the relief that must bring to her family. He then cleared his throat. “We think it’s a good idea for Scully to resume as normal life as possible. She should go back to work. A quiet life that won’t draw any unnecessary attention is probably the best way to go.”

Jennifer leaned forward in the armchair next to the couch. “Where are you thinking of settling?”

He sighed and shrugged. “Somewhere in Virginia, if possible. But as far from Washington as we can get.”

“Wherever I can get work, really,” Scully answered, briefly glancing at Mulder. “That’s where I’ll need your help. I don’t want to put my name out there too much. Ideally, I’d prefer a small, private hospital that desperately needs the help. A place that doesn’t receive a lot of recognition from prominent organizations. I’d like to just quietly slip back into the medical community without much attention directed towards me.”

“I can inquire at the Diocese,” Charlie said. “There might be an opening in one of their hospitals.”

She nodded, smiling. “Thanks. That would be great. Once I find a job, we can find a place to live.”

“And what are _you_ going to do, Fox?” asked Maggie, who was eyeing him judiciously.

He shifted in his chair, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under her penetrating gaze. “Um… I don’t know. I, uh, I’m sure I’ll keep myself busy.”

She paused, considering him a moment, as if deliberating over what she was going to say. Her expression then turned much more serious. “But you’re going to be careful, aren’t you? You’re going to stay out of sight? You’re going to make sure that you also are not drawing undue attention to yourself? You’ll stick to home, and not venture into anything that could expose yourself to those that want to harm you? You won’t be pursuing anything foolish or dangerous that could put not only your life at risk, but my daughter’s as well?”

Mulder’s eyes had locked on Mrs. Scully’s. She spoke with a mother’s authority, in that quietness of tone and look that implied finality. It seemed as though an unspoken understanding was passing between them. The room had gone quiet. Scully stared down at her lap, her stomach tightening with nerves.

“I won’t,” he said. “I promise. You have my word.”

“That’s all I need,” Maggie said in reply, her expression softening.

Scully looked up, glancing between her mother and her partner, feeling a sense of relief. She looked at him and gave him a reassuring smile, and he winked at her in return.

Charlie stood up, heaving a sigh and rubbing his palms together. “So, who’s hungry? I say we order some pizza and watch a movie. Just like old times.”

Jennifer chuckled, turning to look at Scully. The two sisters-in-law smiled warmly at one another. Soon after the family sat together on the couch and around the small wooden dining table, eating pizza they’d gotten delivered to the room. After everyone had eaten and the remnants of their meal had been put away in the kitchenette, everyone crammed together on the couch or around it to watch the movie that Ben and Jack had selected, _Minority Report_ on Pay-Per-View.

Mulder sat himself on the floor between Scully’s legs. Not long after, she began running her fingers through his soft brown hair, massaging his scalp, and he let his eyes drift closed. Charlie, Jennifer, and Maggie all glanced at them before exchanging small looks and smiles. Not once had Maggie ever heard Mulder or her daughter verbalize their feelings for each other, not once had she ever heard them use the ‘L’ word. But although they were not usually a demonstrative couple in front of others, at least the times she’d seen them together, the strength of their love and how much they meant to each other was obvious and something that no one could deny.

Several hours later, the family started to disperse. Charlie helped the boys pull out the mattress from the couch, where they’d be sleeping for the night. Jennifer carried Hannah into the bedroom, which contained two queen beds, to help her get changed into her pajamas. Mulder sighed and told Scully and her mother that he was heading to bed himself. After nodding in Charlie’s direction and giving Mrs. Scully a hug goodnight as well as a heartfelt, whispered “thank you,” he departed for his hotel room.

As Charlie moved from the living room area into the bedroom to join his wife and daughter, Scully suddenly found herself alone with her mother for the first time in over nine months. She gave her mom a hesitant smile, playing with her fingers nervously.

“I guess I should clean up the mess in the kitchen,” Scully said. “It’ll give me something to do.”

“I’ll help,” offered Maggie.

She nodded and moved towards the kitchen. The two women silently worked together, throwing the used napkins into the garbage and placing the leftover pizza in the refrigerator. Scully stood at the sink to wash their plates. She turned on the hot water, and grabbed the dish soap and a fresh sponge from the cupboard underneath the sink. Maggie opened one of the drawers and took out a clean dish towel. The two then stood in front of the sink, one washing and the other drying.

When the dishes had all been washed and dried, Scully lingered at the sink, not moving away. She began to nervously play with her fingers again as a lump grew in her throat and tears pricked her eyes. Maggie waited, not pushing her daughter to talk, knowing she would when she was ready. “Mom…,” she finally said, her voice thick with emotion. “I never wanted things to end up like this. I only ever wanted to make you and Dad proud of me, of my choices, my life. How can I ever ask you to forgive me for what I’ve put you through?”

Sighing, Maggie lifted her hand to tenderly rub her daughter’s arm. “Honey, so many things have been outside your control. Life hasn’t been fair to you, and yes, it hurts to see you struggling, to see you in pain.” She swallowed against the lump growing in her own throat.

“This can’t have been what you and Dad wanted for me,” she replied, brushing the tears from her cheeks.

“If you’d made different choices, perhaps you would’ve had a better life than you do now, an easier one,” replied Maggie. “Certainly a less painful one. And in a different world, I’d have both my daughters. Perhaps I would’ve seen you married with your own children, living a stable life free from the heartache you’ve suffered in this one.”

Scully chewed on her lower lip, in an effort to choke back a sob.

Maggie sighed again. “But Dana, who would you be if you had never met Fox? Would you really have fallen in love with someone else? And supposing you had, and then had children, would you truly be happy? Or would you always feel like something was missing? That something was wrong, out of place? That you weren’t living the life you were meant to live?”

Her face crumpling, Scully began to cry outright.

“Honey, I don’t blame Fox for the tragedies you’ve suffered, that _we’ve_ suffered, any more than I blame you. And how could I ever do that? I’ll always support you. Don’t you know that by now? You don’t need my forgiveness for your life choices, Dana.” She sighed, tears filling her eyes. “You’re my daughter.”

Instantly, Scully reached for her mother, hugging her tight and crying into her shoulder. “I love you, Mom.”

Maggie held her tight, rubbing her back, soothing her. “I know, honey. And I love you.”

About 15 minutes later, Scully knocked on her hotel room door and not long after Mulder opened it, letting her inside. He stared down at her, taking in her tear-stained face, blotchy with emotion. His brows furrowed, and he frowned.

“Are you okay, Scully? What happened?” he asked.

“I’m all right, Mulder. I just talked with my mom for a little bit. Everything’s going to be okay. Really.”

He studied her, looking deep into her eyes. He knew she spoke the truth. “We’re gonna be okay, Scully. Your family will help you find a job, and… we’ll get a place to live. And… things will get better. Things _will_ _be_ better. We'll be all right.”

She sighed and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I know we will.”

She smiled up at him and he looked down at her affectionately. Their eyes said everything they needed to say. Mulder bent his head as Scully raised hers, and kissed her tenderly.

*****

May 20, 1995

After stopping at a florist shop near his apartment, Mulder drove across town to the Alexandria Wrest neighborhood. He was soon pulling into Mrs. Scully’s driveway. He got out of his car and made his way to the front door, carrying the bouquet with him. As he stepped onto the porch, he took a deep breath and knocked. He waited a moment, but there was no answer. He knocked again before glancing around, noting that her vehicle was in the driveway. There still was no answer. He sighed and stepped off the porch, walking back towards his car.

“Fox?”

He quickly turned around and saw Mrs. Scully had appeared at the side of her house, guessing she’d walked around from the back yard. She wore a pair of gardening gloves on her hands. To his surprise, she actually managed a smile upon seeing him.

“Hi, Mrs. Scully.”

Maggie glanced at the bouquet of pink flowers in his hand. “Dana isn’t here right now.”

He nodded. “I know. I, uh, I wanted to apologize. Melissa’s funeral was last week, and I didn’t…”

“I know you were there, Fox.” She gave him another small smile.

“You do?” he asked, furrowing his brows.

She glanced at the flowers again. “Dana told me. But I’m sorry you left before I got a chance to see you, and before you were able to meet Dana’s brothers.”

Mulder paused before replying, wondering if Mrs. Scully suspected that was the very reason he left the church immediately upon the conclusion of the service. He sighed, and then stepped closer to where she stood. “I just wanted to stop by and give you these.” He handed the pink flowers over to her, which she took with a smile. “And I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for your loss, for what happened. I… it should never have happened.”

Maggie considered him a moment. “Do you have any plans today? Anywhere you need to run off to?”

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his blue jeans. “Uh… nope. No plans.”

“I’m working on something out back, if you’d like to help me?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Mulder followed Maggie around the house to the back yard. His eyes soon fell on a large rectangular patch where the grass had been removed. As they approached, he noticed gardening tools lying to the side of it, damp paper towels with seeds that had sprouted, and a small heart-shaped box with a cross engraved on the lid.

“What are you planting?” he asked.

“Sunflowers,” she replied. “For Melissa.”

He looked from the bed of soil to Maggie, who gave him another sad smile, and then back to the silver heart-shaped box, staring at it. “Are you sure you want _me_ to help you with this? Shouldn’t Scully be here?”

She sighed. “Dana’s dealing with this in her own way.”

Mulder wasn’t sure what that meant, and Mrs. Scully didn’t say anything further. Instead, she got down on her knees beside the flower bed. He silently followed, getting down beside her. He watched as she reached for the heart-shaped box, lifted the lid, and removed a small black velvet pouch. She then quietly scattered the ashes of her eldest daughter over the flower bed. Taking the cultivator tool, she then worked at incorporating the ashes into the soil. She handed him a trowel and together they began to dig holes in the soil, six inches apart.

After several moments, Maggie spoke. “I’m sorry about your father, Fox. How are you holding up?”

He turned and watched her transplant a sprouting sunflower seed into one of the holes she’d dug. “I’m okay.”

“You weren’t able to go to the funeral,” she stated.

“Yeah… but Scully went,” he answered simply. He wasn’t sure how he felt about missing the funeral in Boston. He wasn’t sure how he felt about his father at the moment.

Maggie sighed. “You were almost killed yourself.”

His gut reaction was to say something flippant about his near demise, but he stopped himself. “I know.”

“The same people who murdered your father, are they the same as who tried to kill you? And who murdered my daughter?”

“That’s what I believe, Mrs. Scully.”

She nodded. “I think Dana believes it, too. You’ll find them. I know you will.”

Mulder didn’t know how to respond, and then decided to ask something that had been weighing on his mind. “Why didn’t she speak at Melissa’s funeral?”

Maggie turned to look at him. “I think she feels responsible for what happened. Dana tends to second-guess her decisions sometimes and to torment herself with ‘what if.’” She sighed, turning back to the flower bed. “Her father’s been gone over a year now, and his opinion is still important to her. I think she still wonders what he thinks of her choices, and if he’d be proud of her, of her life. You can see how something like this would make her start to question that all over again.”

“But she’s not responsible,” he said. “She shouldn’t blame herself. No one else should blame her either.” He paused, glancing at Maggie while she planted the last seed, wondering at what he’d observed between Scully and the rest of her family at the church. “If people are looking to lay the blame somewhere, I know where they can lay it.”

“It’s not your fault either, Fox,” she replied sadly. “You’ve been affected by all this, too.”

He watched her cover the seed with soil. “And Scully’s brothers? What do they think?”

She sighed. “My sons are grieving. I’m sure in time they’ll understand that.”

“But if Scully had never started working with me, if she’d just stayed at Quantico or started practicing medicine… none of this would have happened to your family. She never would’ve been abducted. Melissa would never have…”

“Dana believes that what she’s doing is important, that she’s making a difference in the lives of others,” she said, removing the dirty gloves from her hands. “Who has the right to question that? I raised a strong woman who knows her own mind. I’m very proud of my daughter. And I know her father would be, too.”

He had no response and could only watch Mrs. Scully as she gathered the gardening tools together. He frowned, his expression sad and troubled. “Please forgive me.”

Turning to look at him, Maggie noticed the sorrow etched across his features. She gazed at him with kindness and sympathy, her eyes becoming wet with unshed tears. She smiled at him sadly and lifted a hand to his cheek. “There’s nothing to forgive, Fox.”

Mulder could only stare at her, feeling speechless, feeling as if she was looking at him like a mother would.


	144. "But if I had to settle down, build a home... it'd be a place like this."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Scully goes on a job interview, she and Mulder search for a place to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping At Last - "North" 
> 
> We will call this place our home  
> The dirt in which our roots may grow  
> Though the storms will push and pull  
> We will call this place our home 
> 
> We’ll tell our stories on these walls  
> Every year measure how tall  
> And just like a work of art  
> We’ll tell our stories on these walls 
> 
> Let the years we’re here be kind, be kind  
> Let our hearts, like doors, open wide, open wide  
> Settle our bones like wood over time, over time  
> Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine 
> 
> A little broken, a little new  
> We are the impact and the glue  
> Capable of more than we know  
> We call this fixer upper home
> 
> With each year our color fades  
> Slowly our paint chips away  
> But we will find the strength and the nerve it takes  
> To repaint and repaint and repaint every day 
> 
> Let the years we’re here be kind, be kind  
> Let our hearts, like doors, open wide, open wide  
> Settle our bones like wood over time, over time  
> Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine 
> 
> Smaller than dust on this map  
> Lies the greatest thing we have  
> The dirt in which our roots may grow  
> And the right to call it home

Sunday, October 20th, was a beautiful, sunny day in Virginia Beach. The temperature rose to a pleasant 80° and the Scully family spent the afternoon down by the water. Mulder and Maggie sat side by side in a couple beach chairs underneath a large umbrella while a few feet away Scully and Jennifer played with Hannah. He watched as his partner rolled up the hem of her navy blue slacks and ran barefoot into the water, holding onto the small hand of her giggling niece. Charlie was playing catch with his sons.

Maggie watched her children and grandchildren playing, her mouth curved into a smile. She then looked over at Mulder, watching him for a moment, and sighed. “You know, not a day goes by where I don’t think about William and how much I miss my grandson. He’ll be two years old soon.”

Stunned, he turned to look at her. Not since that day about a week after William’s birth when the family came over to Scully’s apartment to visit had he spoken of his son to Maggie or anyone else in the family. Mulder felt at a loss for words. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if this was something he even wanted to talk about. He looked away from her and turned a saddened gaze to Scully, who was still smiling and laughing with her sister-in-law.

“I don’t know if Dana told you about it,” Maggie continued after reading his silence, not waiting for him to say anything. “But I didn’t take the news of the adoption very well.”

He stared down at his lap, brows furrowing. Not once had he asked Scully about the circumstances that led her to make the decision. Skinner had informed him of the terrible events she’d been through, the threats to their son and the constant danger he’d been in. But Mulder had never demanded that Scully explain herself to him and defend her decision. It was mostly out of painful guilt and deep regret, but he also didn’t think he had to.

There was no one he trusted more than her, and he knew that whatever decision she made would always be the right one. He could only imagine the turmoil that went into making such a decision, and he believed that if he were to question her about that choice it would inevitably send them both down a path that he never wanted to go. Missing their son was agony enough, without going down a road that led to self-doubt and unanswerable questions.

Maggie sighed. “I take it she didn’t tell you about it?”

Looking up at her, Mulder shook his head.

“Well, I guess I’m not surprised,” she said. “But when it happened I was very upset, very angry.”

“That’s understandable,” he replied quietly.

She stared out at her daughter. “Is it?” She paused for a moment. “I don’t think I fully appreciated at the time the difficult position Dana was in, or the danger my grandson was. I didn’t understand what was happening, or why.”

Mulder sighed. “I don’t think any of us did.”

Nodding, Maggie turned to look at him. “But after what happened with your arrest and conviction, and all these months you’ve spent running from place to place, hiding… I can see now that Dana made the right choice. A life on the run is no life for a child. And Father McCue helped me to see that William is safe now.”

“Father McCue?” asked Mulder, his brows furrowing into a questioning expression.

“Yes,” she replied. “After what happened, I was so distressed over it all. I told him all about Dana giving up William. I spoke to him many times, and he helped me to see that it was done to protect my grandson, that his location was obviously a secret from those who wanted to harm him, and that he surely was with a good family who would take care of him.” She paused, sighing. “I had my doubts. But all these months fearing for my daughter, I know Father McCue was right. William is probably better off in a home that’s free from these dangers. I'm just glad that Dana's come back to us, and that I was finally able to talk to her about it.”

He didn’t know what to say. He knew it was normal for a devout Catholic like Mrs. Scully to confide in her priest, and he believed Father McCue to be a decent man. But the idea of others talking about his son made him feel uneasy. “You haven’t talked to anyone else about William, have you?”

Maggie looked at him with widening eyes, shaking her head. “Of course not, Fox. I would never.”

He nodded, and reached his hand over to gently pat her reassuringly. “I know. I just…” He sighed.

“Worry,” she said, finishing his sentence for him.

“I can’t help it, I guess,” he replied.

She gave him a sad smile. “You’ll always be his father. He’ll always be your child. Worrying is part of the deal. It’s normal.”

Mulder watched as Scully worked an elastic band around the strands of her long red hair, pulling it back from her face in some kind of messy knot. She turned and he stared at the back of her head, his gaze lowering to her neck, where he knew her chip was implanted. “If only I had a normal father’s worries.”

Before Maggie could reply, Jack suddenly appeared in front of them holding out a baseball glove. “Mulder, come and play with us.”

“Um…” He hadn’t been expecting such a request.

“Please?” Jack’s freckled face smiled at him eagerly.

Sighing in defeat, Mulder smiled in return. “Sure.”

The two sisters-in-law watched as Hannah ran into the ocean, getting her feet and ankles wet, and then quickly back out, giggling with delight. Jennifer turned and smiled. “So, uh, you and Mulder seem to be doing good.”

Scully smiled, averting her eyes, feeling annoyed that she felt herself blush. “Um, yeah. Things are good.”

Jennifer smirked and then paused, considering. “You must’ve been through a lot since you left. I’m sure I can’t even imagine.”

A kaleidoscope of memories flashed in her mind. “You don’t want to.”

Stomach tightening at that response, Jennifer glanced behind them and saw her youngest son handing over a baseball glove to Mulder. She felt amused for a second, watching as he stood up from the chair. But then she turned a saddened expression back on her sister-in-law. “How did Mulder take the news about William?”

Scully turned and stared at her, eyes widening.

“I know you didn’t talk about it much at all, but I _know_ you were worried about it,” Jennifer explained quietly. “I know it must’ve weighed on your mind… while he was gone.”

She looked at Hannah, still running in and out of the water. How had Mulder taken the news? Honestly, she didn’t know. She hadn’t been the one to break it to him. But she knew his treatment of her since their reunion, the tense and heartbroken moments as well as the warm, tender, and understanding ones. “He took it how any father would.” But then she paused, thinking. “Actually, no. I don’t think that’s true. Mulder was far kinder and more accepting than I would rightfully expect anyone to be in his position.”

Jennifer nodded, sighing. “Do you regret your choice at all, Dana?”

Once again, that kaleidoscope of images flashed in front of her eyes, memories from their months spent running from one random place to the next, the fake names and claustrophobic motel rooms, her attack in that Colorado cabin. Staring out at the blue waters of the Atlantic, Scully shook her head. “No.”

*****

On Tuesday afternoon, Scully received a call from Charlie. After making some phone calls, he had been directed to contact the Bon Secours Hospital there in Baltimore. The hospital was part of the Bon Secours Health System, a not-for-profit Catholic health system that owned and managed 19 private acute-care hospitals in seven states. Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital in Richmond, Virginia was part of that network and was in dire need of qualified medical staff. So on Wednesday morning, Scully typed up her resume and applied on the hospital’s website. Later that same day, the hospital contacted her and set up an interview.

On Friday morning, October 25th, Scully showered and dressed inside the hotel room she and Mulder had rented at the Country Inn & Suites on the west side of Richmond. Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital was just six blocks away, and it would only take minutes to get there. After applying her makeup and running a hand through her hair one last time, Scully stepped out of the bathroom. Mulder turned his attention from the television screen and smiled at her.

“How do I look?” she asked as she slipped her feet into black heels.

“Subdued,” he replied, taking in her knee-length black pencil skirt and white button-down blouse.

She let out a breathy laugh. “Well, it’s a Catholic hospital. I’m sure _subdued_ is what they go for.”

He smirked, nodding slowly. “Personally, I don't know how they stay open. Who the hell would want to be admitted to a hospital with 'Sorrows' in the name?"

She rolled her eyes, fighting a grin.

"You ready to go?” he asked.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “Yes.”

Not long after, they were walking across the parking lot to their silver Ford Taurus rental, which they’d acquired before they made the two hour drive north to Richmond on Thursday. After cleaning the Jeep Wrangler from top to bottom and stripping it of any identifying factors, especially the license plates, it was abandoned on a rural road somewhere between Virginia Beach and Norfolk. That period of their life spent on the run was coming to an end, and a new chapter was starting.

Within moments Mulder had started the engine and they were heading towards Our Lady of Sorrows on Bremo Road. The drive went quickly and it wasn’t long before they were pulling into the hospital’s parking lot. The car came to a stop in front of the main entrance doors and Scully sighed.

“You nervous?” he asked.

“Yeah. Why would they give me a job? I’m not exactly qualified for anything that doesn’t involve a corpse.”

He gave her a slight smile. “You’re very capable. And they saw your resume. Why bother calling you in if they wouldn’t be able to take you on in some capacity?”

She nodded, unbuckling her seatbelt. “I don’t know how long I’ll be. But don’t go far.”

“I won’t leave the parking lot,” he replied. “I’ll be right here when you get out.”

Smiling, she opened the passenger side door and got out. Before she could close the door, Mulder called out.

“Scully!”

She turned back and looked inside the car, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

He smirked. “Knock ‘em dead.” He paused, tilting his head from side to side. “Not literally. But, you know… good luck.”

“Thanks, Mulder.” Shaking her head and grinning, she closed the car door. After taking a deep breath and smoothing out the material of her blouse, she started walking towards the hospital entrance. Once inside, she came upon the Front Desk and was greeted by the receptionist, a middle-aged woman with graying blonde hair and a name tag that read, “Sharon McBride.”

“Hi, my name is Dana Scully. I have an 11:00 appointment with Father Ybarra.”

Sharon smiled and glanced at the datebook in front of her. “Yes, I have you down. I’ll let him know that you’re here.”

Scully thanked her and took a seat on the cushioned bench near the desk as Sharon got on the phone. Five minutes later, the hospital’s top administrator walked into the reception area. He was a priest, a tall, slender man around 40 years of age, wearing black robes and a cross around his neck. She stood as he approached, and noticed that despite his long, plaintive face, his eyes were kind.

“Dr. Scully?”

“Yes, hello.” She held out her hand.

He smiled and shook her hand. “Father Ybarra. Let’s head back to my office.”

Scully followed the priest from the reception area into a corridor, and shortly after he opened a door with a mahogany nameplate that read, “Father Adam L. Ybarra.” He motioned for her to sit in one of the chairs in front of his large mahogany desk as he walked around it. Once they both were seated, he flipped open a manila folder on his desk and glanced over Scully’s application as well as her resume. He read silently for a moment before looking up and giving her his rapt attention.

“I see you got your M.D. at quite a prestigious school,” he said.

“Yes, Father.”

He nodded. “I made some phone calls to Johns Hopkins to request your transcripts and USMLE results. I spoke to several senior medical staff at the hospital and at the medical school, including one Dr. Daniel Waterston. He’s quite a well-known figure in the cardiology field.”

Her eyes widened and at first felt at a loss for words at the unexpected mention of Daniel. She then cleared her throat. “Yes. He’s a brilliant doctor.”

Father Ybarra gave her a slight smile. “He had nothing but good things to say about you, said you were the best student he ever taught, and that it was nothing short of a privilege to mentor you. He also said that if I didn’t hire you it would be the worst mistake of my career.”

Scully felt her face redden and she smiled out of embarrassment. “Well… that was very kind of him.”

The priest took a deep breath, looking over her application once again. “I see that you graduated from Johns Hopkins with high marks, after successfully completing an array of challenging clerkships, and you passed your USMLE exams, also with high marks.” He then looked up at her again. “But you didn’t obtain your licensure to practice medicine.”

“No, Father. I was recruited by the FBI in my last year of medical school and began training at the FBI Academy right after graduation.”

He nodded, looking over her resume. “Where you proceeded to undertake a residency in pathology right there at Quantico and became a fully-licensed pathologist. I must say that’s pretty unorthodox. Unless Quantico runs a residency program that I’m unaware of?”

She shook her head. “No. I believe they made a special exception in my case.”

“You no doubt were recruited hard by several places, I’m sure,” he stated, before pursing his lips, considering her. “I called the FBI and spoke with someone named Walter Skinner, who also said wonderful things about you and the quality of your work. I’m sure you know, Dr. Scully, that pathology isn’t what we do here. I’m also guessing you’re aware of the fact that you could easily obtain a job in that field anywhere and earn a lot more money than we could ever pay you. The Chief Medical Examiner’s Office is right here in Richmond and I can almost guarantee that their forensic pathology program would take you on in a heartbeat.”

Scully sighed, thinking over what he’d said. “Yes, I know. But I’m looking to move away from pathology. I’d like to have a chance to treat the living while I’m still young and healthy enough to pursue a rather drastic career change. And, um… the unit I was working with in the FBI has been closed down, and I’m just looking for something very different.”

Father Ybarra nodded, and leaned back in his chair. “You do realize that this would mean starting over? You’re looking at once again spending years in residency before you can be a fully licensed and practicing physician. And depending on the field of medicine you wish to pursue, residency could be anywhere from four to seven years.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“We offer two residency programs here at Our Lady of Sorrows: The St. Francis Family Medicine Residency, which lasts two years, and the Neurosurgery Residency Training Program that requires seven years to complete. We have a state-of-the-art neurology department that encompasses both adult and pediatric care, and we offer residency training in either adult neurology or pediatric neurology. The choice would be yours. There is a real need for qualified physicians who would be willing to take on a lot of work for pay that is, well, less than lucrative. But I must say the personal rewards this work offers do far more to feed the soul than what any financial ones might.”

She smiled, a fluttering of nerves erupting in her stomach. She quickly calculated that seven years from now she would be 45 years of age, which wasn’t all that old, and just the idea that she would have an opportunity to work in pediatric care made her heart swell.

He leaned forward, entwining his hands over the desk. “Dr. Waterston mentioned that you had considered neurosurgery before deciding on pathology, and that you performed admirably during your neurology clerkships.”

“Yes. I seriously debated the two fields before coming to the conclusion that pathology was right for me at that time in my life.”

Father Ybarra smiled. “I have to say, Dr. Scully… we’ve never attracted a Johns Hopkins graduate for our residency programs before. The board will be thrilled.” His face then fell slightly. “Now, we can’t offer you much money. Our training programs only provide a salary of 40 grand a year for the entire length of the residency, which I know is on the low end of the pay scale in comparison to other institutions. But… we’re not-for-profit and our goal here is to provide good help to those in need, especially the poor and the dying.”

Scully nodded, giving a small smile. “I understand. The pay isn’t an issue. I just want the opportunity to do some good.”

The priest beamed. “Now, you’ll need to retake your USMLE exams as your scores are technically no longer valid, and then apply for your medical license. We can help you with that. It’ll be a process. You’ll need to put in time here at the hospital to prepare and do a lot of studying. If we set up exam dates late in December, do you think that gives you enough time?”

She felt confident that two months would be enough. She wasn’t that much out of practice, an emergency appendectomy suddenly coming to mind. “I believe so.”

“Great. I’ll need to discuss this with the board of administrators, but… consider it a done deal. How about I show you around the hospital?” he offered.

“Thank you, Father. I’d like that.”

Scully was then taken on a tour through Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital, lingering in the pediatric neurology ward, as Father Ybarra spoke of the hospital’s esteemed history, its specialized services to the Richmond community, and the various honors and awards it had received over the years. When she finally exited the hospital, she greeted Mulder with a smile and a heart full of joyful excitement.

*****

On Saturday, the cold and gray light of early morning was beginning to make its way through the hotel room window as a heavily breathing Mulder smothered Scully with long, passionate kisses. She was still gasping as his firm and warm lips made their way across her collarbone, and up her neck towards her mouth. She ran her fingers through his messy brown hair while her other hand gently stroked his back, her fingertips tracing over his slick skin and taut muscle. Her thighs were still wrapped tightly around him, her inner muscles still spasming from her intense orgasm.

“What do you want to do today?” Scully asked, her eyes drifting closed, a contented look on her face.

“I don’t care,” replied Mulder, dipping his tongue in the hollow of her collarbone and tasting her skin, causing her to shudder. “Let’s just do this all day.”

She snorted. “I don’t think I have the stamina.”

“I happen to know from experience that you do,” Mulder whispered, his lips caressing across her skin from the nape of her neck to behind her earlobe, his tongue probing the soft flesh behind it.

Scully moaned. “But we really should start looking for a place to live, somewhere close to the hospital.”

He hummed against her neck. Her breasts were pressed into his chest, her nipples still hardened against him, and all he could think of was more. More of this. More pleasure. More time. More of her, and only of her. More of her lips, her hands, her legs, her breasts, her soft skin. More, more, more. He never wanted this time with her to end. A ball of hot, desirous need tightened in the pit of his stomach. Against her inner thigh Scully felt his cock harden once again. Their eyes met and held, a lustful sparkle in their gaze. Smirking, she quickly moved forward, her lips crashing on his, coaxing an eager response from him as their tongues met and caressed once more.

Later, they walked into Dot’s Diner, an unassuming place just down the street from their hotel with red leather booths and a large community bulletin board featuring various notices and advertisements. They made their way to an empty booth, before a waitress approached and took their coffee order. Mulder opened the _Richmond Times-Dispatch_ they’d gotten earlier and turned to the Classifieds section. He scanned over the listings for apartments to rent, reading silently for a few moments. He then looked up and grinned at Scully across the table.

“I’ve never gone apartment hunting with anyone before,” he said, just as their waitress reappeared with two cups of hot coffee.

“Just motel room renting,” she replied with a smirk, after thanking the waitress.

He snorted, nodding, and lifted his coffee cup to his mouth. Soon after their waitress returned and took their food order. Mulder and Scully spent the next hour eating breakfast and discussing the apartment listings. There wasn’t much that looked very promising, but they decided to place some calls about a few of the ads. For the next week, they proceeded to eat breakfast at Dot’s Diner each morning and look through the Classifieds before Scully would have to report to Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital for orientation. In the evenings, she would tour an apartment or two while Mulder waited in the car. She was shown apartment after apartment, but none were good enough. Most apartment buildings near the hospital were four-story walk-ups built tenement-style for the working poor, and were in desperate need of serious repair. She couldn’t picture her and Mulder living in any of them.

On Saturday morning, November 2nd, Mulder and Scully were walking towards the counter to pay for their breakfast, discussing their inability to find a decent place on the west side of Richmond.

“Maybe I could check out the suburban neighborhoods,” she suggested as they came to a stop behind a family paying for their meal.

“Sure, and then my head would probably end up as a lawn ornament courtesy of some Tibetan tulpa made of trash and shit,” he deadpanned in response as he turned to glance at her.

She pursed her lips, trying not to grin, and then considered him a moment as he turned and approached the counter when the family walked away towards the door. “Yeah. I don’t think suburbia is really your thing.”

As Mulder handed over their check and some cash to the young man standing at the register, Scully turned around and stared at the large community bulletin board. Signs for a Baptist church’s chicken BBQ, a spaghetti dinner to benefit the fire department, help wanted ads, and other notices from local organizations were pressed into the corkboard with thumbtacks. Her eyes then fell on a sign containing a picture of a small white house with “For Sale By Owner” printed at the top. She moved to stand closer, reading the information listed below the picture.

“12.7 acres for sale in New Kent County, Virginia. Very private property on 227700 Wallis Road, Farrs Corner, Woodford, Virginia 22580. Property sold as is. Beautiful farm land with historic home featuring 1704 sq. feet, 3 bedrooms, and 2 ½ baths. Home needs some restoration. Outbuildings and huge trees grace this unique property. Must see to appreciate! Only 45 minutes from the Richmond city center and just over an hour from Washington D.C.

Directions: Take 95 North from Richmond. Take exit #118 for County Road 606. Turn right on Mudd Tavern Road, right on Orrock Lane, and then take second left onto Wallis Road. Follow signs to home.”

Slipping his wallet back in his jeans pocket, Mulder turned and stepped over to stand beside her. He stared down at her and then looked up at the house listing. “New Kent County?” he said, looking down at her with eyebrows furrowed questioningly. “I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of ‘middle of nowhere,’ Scully. And I recall you’ve made disparaging comments in the past about _living in Mayberry_.” He chuckled and looked at the picture. “I’m sure we can find a place to rent in the city.”

She smiled. “Maybe the middle of nowhere is exactly what we need, Mulder. And I also recall that you’ve made comments about that being the kind of place you would like to settle down in.” She gazed at the picture of the small white Craftsman style bungalow home with the porch running along the front. “Maybe I should check this place out.”

Shaking his head, amused, he turned to head for the door. “I’m sure we can find a decent apartment near the hospital. We just need to keep looking.”

Scully watched him open the door and step outside. She then found herself staring at the last sentence in the advertisement. _Follow signs to home._ Butterflies filled her stomach and she felt her pulse quicken. She impulsively reached forward, removing one of the strips at the bottom of the page featuring the address of the property and a telephone number. Once they were inside their rental car, Mulder started the engine while Scully pulled out the silver Nokia cell phone and dialed the number on the slip of paper. After speaking with a Mr. Nash, she made arrangements to go out to see the property the next day.

*****

On Sunday afternoon, November 3rd, Scully left Mulder behind at the hotel and took the 45 minute drive north to the rural area of Woodford, Virginia. She found the address on Wallis Road easily enough. She stopped at the end of the long gravel driveway, the gate having been left wide open. The house couldn’t be seen from the road, a detail that she happened to think was a positive as well as a gate that could be locked. Taking a deep breath, she put her foot on the gas and drove down the long driveway towards the house.

She could see why the description called it a farm. The driveway seemingly had been carved down the middle of a pasture, and several trees dotted the grass covered field. Large trees surrounded the property on both sides. It was obvious that the land had been well cared for. The white bungalow quickly came into view, sitting to the right of the driveway, as well as a couple other smaller buildings to the left. A fence with wires and wooden posts surrounded the house, coming to an end at both sides of the driveway. She also noted that the driveway continued past the home and through a small mass of tall trees, disappearing behind. She wondered just how long it was and what lay beyond the tree line.

As she pulled up to the house, Scully felt uncertainty rise up inside her. The property was large and would require a lot of attention. She knew what kind of hours she’d keep as a resident physician in a busy hospital. And was it wise to leave Mulder out there alone while she worked 40 miles away in Richmond? What if something happened? She knew he had once speculated on living a simpler life if he had to settle somewhere, and relished the nostalgia of what life had been like for him while growing up in a small town on Martha’s Vineyard. Maybe keeping him far from busy places where he could find trouble was best. But was living out in the middle of nowhere truly realistic for them? He’d appeared to scoff at the idea yesterday in the diner. She was starting to second-guess the notion of living all the way out there in Farrs Corner.

Scully then noticed an older man with white hair open the front door and step out onto the porch. After coming to a stop and shutting off the engine, she got out of the car and walked around it to greet the older man wearing blue jeans and a long-sleeved, plaid button down shirt.

“Hi, Mr. Nash?”

He smiled. “That’s me. But you can call me Seward.”

She gave him a smile in return. “I’m Dana.”

“Nice to meet you. I can show you around the house.”

“Great,” she replied.

She then followed him back towards the home, walking up the stairs to the porch and following him inside where he proceeded to give her a guided tour. There was dark hardwood throughout, including the floors, stairs, and trim. The house had an open layout, the kitchen clearly visible from the living area. A rectangular dining table with four chairs separated the two rooms. A small hallway near the kitchen contained a pantry and a utility room with washer and dryer as well as a half bathroom. Off the kitchen was a door that led out to the back yard.

The house had three bedrooms, two decent-sized ones upstairs and a small one just off the living room downstairs. As they toured the second story, she was shown the large master bedroom and en suite bathroom complete with a walk-in shower encased with a clear glass door. At the other end of the hallway, also made of dark hardwood, was a bedroom smaller than the master but of good size. In the hallway between the two bedrooms was a bathroom with blue and white tiles, a curtained shower, and claw-foot bathtub.

The more she saw of the house, the more Scully’s uncertainty wavered. The house seemed to draw her in, making her feel like she belonged there. It was wholly unexpected, having grown up on naval bases and then living in apartments ever since medical school. The house was nothing like she had been used to, nor anything at all like what she would have imagined for herself. The colors inside were warm and gave off a masculine feel. The furniture appeared to be hand crafted from solid dark wood. The house felt like the perfect balance between antique and contemporary. It strongly reminded her of Mulder, and his old Hegal Place apartment in Alexandria.

“So why are you selling?” she asked Mr. Nash.

“Well, my wife passed about a year ago and I’ve been living here by myself,” he replied. “My kids live in Florida and they really want me to move there, want me to be closer. So I decided to finally give in and go down there. It’ll be nice to be with my kids, and see my grandkids more often.”

She smiled, nodding.

He studied her for a moment. “So, are you married?”

“No,” she answered, smiling and shaking her head.

“So it would be just you living here?”

Clearing her throat, she nodded. “Yep, just me.”

He walked over towards the front door, opening it and allowing her to walk back out on the porch. “Kind of lonely out here for one person. A lot of land to take care of, too. But it’s very quiet, very private. Not all that much traffic. You sure this is the right place for you?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Quiet and private sounds like a nice change for me. But I also have family near D.C. and in Maryland who will visit.”

“Okay. And, uh, you sure you can pay in cash? And all up front? No loan from the bank?”

Scully smiled. “Yes, sir. All in cash and up front. When do you want to leave for Florida? Just pick a day and I’ll have the cash for you.”

Mr. Nash looked at her almost in surprise. “And I’m selling as is, creaky doors and drafty windows and all.”

“I understand.”

“And you even want the furniture?” he asked, raising his eyebrows skeptically.

She snorted. “Yes, I love the furniture. I’m assuming that’s included in the _as is_ price?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “If you’re paying me in cash, you can have anything you want.”

Smiling, she held out her hand. Still chuckling, he shook her hand good-naturedly. Pleasant butterflies filled Scully's stomach as she drove back to Richmond, feeling excited over telling Mulder all about their new home. He reacted to the news with amusement and felt intrigued over the house she described to him. The way she smiled and the way her eyes sparkled when she talked all about the small bungalow in the middle of a green pasture made his heart swell. He wondered if some form of happiness might be within their reach at last. 

*****

On Sunday morning, November 24th, Scully drove with Mulder out to their new house for the first time. On Saturday evening, she’d met with Mr. Nash at a coffee shop near Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital, where she handed over $185,500 in cash and he handed over the keys. They were now officially homeowners. When they reached the unmarked driveway on Wallis Road, Scully put the car into park and got out, walking towards the newly-painted metal gate. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out the key ring and inserted a key into the padlock. Once the gate unlocked, she swung it forward and then walked back to the car. Once she’d driven the car forward, passing clear of the gate, she again got out of the car and walked back to close and lock it, gazing around her suspiciously. Feeling relatively safe and free from unwelcomed watchful eyes, she walked back to the car.

As the silver Ford Taurus made its way down the bumpy gravel driveway, Mulder gazed out at the rolling pasture of a front yard until they came upon a little two-story, low-slung house. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have assumed that the dreary clapboard might’ve been abandoned. The white paint was chipping and there were two small outbuildings to the left of the driveway that were overgrown with wild plants. He turned his head and stared at Scully.

“So what do you think?” she asked, her eyes wide with expectation.

“It’s… unremarkable,” he replied, turning back to stare at the wooden stairs leading up to the porch. Their paint was also peeling.

She let out a breathy laugh and unbuckled her seatbelt. “I think that’s exactly what we need. But come inside and take a look.”

He followed her past the large shrubbery next to the house, up the stairs, and onto the wraparound porch. She pulled out the keys and unlocked the door. Before following her across the threshold, he turned and gazed out at the driveway as it spread towards the metal gate that was no longer visible. He couldn’t help checking to see if they were being watched, feeling uncertain as to whether their present security was something they could truly count on. They’d been in Richmond a month and Scully had begun working at Our Lady of Sorrows, but no problems had come of it. The FBI hadn’t turned up at the hospital or followed her home from work. There hadn’t been a single ambush. It almost seemed too good to be true.

Mulder then stepped into the house, closing the door behind him, and his eyes widened. The interior of the house looked nothing like the bleak exterior. He was greeted with dark hardwood floors, shiny and good quality. A cast iron stove sat against the wall where the living room met the kitchen. The furniture looked either secondhand or old enough to appear that way, but had been kept in good condition. The kitchen was pristine, and the wooden cabinets looked as though they’d been made by an excellent craftsman.

He turned to look at Scully, and smiled. She beamed, and slipped her hand into his, threading their fingers. She then led him up the stairs and showed off the immaculate master bedroom. She ran a hand over the dark wood footboard of the bed, remarking on its quality, and commented that she was planning on buying them a brand new mattress. She began asking him what colors he’d like for the bedding as he peeked his head inside the en suite bathroom, noting the blue and white two-tone color painted on the walls.

Now that he was inside, Mulder was overcome with a strong feeling that the house felt like home. He wasn’t sure why, and still felt quite shocked that this was a place they truly owned, that really belonged to them. He’d had very little hand in the matter, other than providing the funds for purchase. Scully had chosen the house and struck a deal at first sight. He’d been shocked at her impulsiveness, but he didn’t argue against it. She wanted the house, so he just went along with it. And that was that. He now supposed life’s big decisions weren’t always made after days of serious deliberation. Sometimes a man just got lucky, and the woman he loved made the decision for him.

“So… is it still unremarkable?” Scully asked, offering him a teasing smile as he turned back from the bathroom.

Mulder looked down at her, a half smile on his face. “It’s our home.”

His eyes radiated that strange vulnerability which used to make her stomach tighten with nerves all those years ago, but no longer. Her gaze traveled to his elegant fingers as his hand clasped around hers. She felt an unexpected surge of emotion rip through her. Her eyes shot back to his and they stared intensely at one another. She spoke with her eyes, and in all his life he’d never seen eyes as expressive as hers. He took a step towards her, his hands going to her face, holding her gently.

“It’s our home,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “We have a home.”

He gazed at her affectionately, and nodded. As he pressed his lips to hers, they each uttered a silent wish that the life they would build within those walls would be a happy one.


	145. "And I've counted on that fact to give me faith in my ability to do what I do. I want that faith back. I need it back."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully settle into their new life in Virginia. 
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John Legend - "Stay With You"
> 
> We've been together for a while now  
> We're growing stronger everyday now  
> It feels so good and there's no doubt  
> I will stay with you
> 
> As each morning brings the sunrise  
> And the flowers bloom in springtime  
> On my love you can rely  
> And I'll stay with you
> 
> Oh I'll stay with you through the ups and the downs  
> Oh I'll stay with you when no one else is around  
> And when the dark clouds arrive  
> I will stay by your side  
> I know we'll be all right  
> I will stay with you
> 
> Though relationships can get old  
> They have the tendency to grow cold  
> We have something like a miracle  
> Yeah, and I'll stay with you
> 
> Oh I'll stay with you through the ups and the downs  
> Oh I'll stay with you when no one else is around  
> And when the dark clouds arrive  
> I will stay by your side  
> I know we'll be all right  
> I will stay with you
> 
> And there will be heartaches and pains, yes it will  
> But through it all, we will remain  
> In this life, we all know  
> Friends may come, and they may go  
> But through the years I know  
> I will stay
> 
> And in the end I know that we'll find  
> Love so beautiful and divine  
> We'll be lovers for a lifetime, yeah  
> And I'll stay with you  
> I will stay with you
> 
> Oh I'll stay with you through the ups and the downs  
> Oh I'll stay with you when no one else is around  
> And when the dark clouds arrive  
> I will stay by your side  
> I know we'll be all right  
> I will stay with you  
> Everything will be fine  
> And I will stay with you  
> Through the end of all time  
> I will stay with you

On Saturday, December 14th, the alarm clock woke Scully up at 4:00 am like a kick in the head. She could have cheerfully turned over and slept for another seven hours. Sighing, she reached to her bedside table and tapped the snooze button. She had a 16-hour shift waiting for her starting at 6:00 when she would arrive at Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital. She turned over to lay on her other side and stared at her partner sleeping peacefully on his back, his hands resting atop the blue duvet comforter that covered him up to his bare chest.

Getting into the routine of an 80-hour work week hadn’t been an easy adjustment. She worked six days in a row, her only day off being Sunday. In the morning on a workday, she was usually up and out of the house long before Mulder was awake. In the evening, she was usually in bed an hour or two after getting home, but those hours were devoted to studying for her USMLE exams. She’d already taken Step 1, commonly referred to as The Boards, this past Wednesday. She wouldn’t be able to schedule an exam date for Step 2 until she received her score. Between working at the hospital and studying, she had very little time for herself or for Mulder. She had thought about getting a landline put into the house so she could call him during the day, but he’d protested with the concern that it was only a matter of time before someone else would be listening. She’d offered to buy him a cell phone, but he’d rejected that idea too. He also turned down her idea of getting Internet service put in the house. Technology made him uneasy.

She understood why. She had similar fears. More oftentimes than not, when she’d return home in the evening after a long day at the hospital, she would linger on Wallis Road, waiting for signs of anything suspicious before she could allow herself to turn into their driveway and unlock the gate. There were times when her heart felt like it would beat right out of her chest as she approached the house and walked inside. Only once she had laid eyes on Mulder, safe and sound, would her fear and anxiety then dissipate. Was it really possible that the FBI would ignore them forever? That the FBI was simply happy keeping Mulder underground? That as long as he wasn’t a problem for them anymore, they didn’t care? The more time went on and the quiet life they were building went undisturbed, the more she started to believe they were now truly safe as long as they remained under the radar.

But she felt like she had barely seen him over the past few days. They’d had very little time together since she started working at the hospital. It was something that was still taking time to get used to after those months on the run, spending most days entirely in each other’s company. She sometimes felt a twinge of guilt about leaving him in the house all day by himself. She missed him, and she knew he missed her. The alarm sounded off again and Mulder groaned. Scully quickly shut the alarm off and with a sigh, turned on the lamp. She then rolled over again to face him. He turned his head, blinking his eyes open slowly, adjusting to the light. She slid closer, reaching out her hand to cover his, gently caressing him. Their eyes met and held, and they smiled.

She felt the muscles in the pit of her stomach tighten and a warming sensation rise up all over. She needed to have sex; her body was suddenly demanding it. Mulder noticed her expression change, her smile turning into a determined smirk, her eyes twinkling suggestively, and his groin tightened. Being alone all day in the house had been a real change that he was still getting used to, despite knowing exactly what it would mean for her to go back to work. But the hours she now kept had also altered their sexual frequency, intimacy no longer occurring nearly as often as before. Not since her day off the previous Sunday had they been able to be together in that way.

Scully reached under the covers and ran her hand down the front of his pajama bottoms, rubbing him gently through the thin material, feeling him start to respond to her touch. His breathing began to quicken as she slid her hand under the elastic waistband and wrapped her fingers around him. She squeezed his hardening erection firmly, a moan escaping from his lips. She loved bringing Mulder satisfaction. His groans of approval as she slid her hand up and down his smooth shaft brought shivers of heat to her body. She continued stroking him, the soothing sound of his groaning causing her own body to respond, hot desire to flow from her center.

After getting Mulder’s pajama pants below his hips, Scully quickly straddled him. She reached to the hem of her lavender nightgown and lifted it over her head, tossing it to the floor, her long red hair falling over her shoulders. He reached up to her breasts, full with arousal, and relished their softness, their weight in his palms, before gently rubbing his thumbs over her taut nipples. She placed her hands on his chest as her head lolled from side to side, her breathing quickening into steady pants. She then grabbed his cock, and from behind, gently inserted him inside.

“Scully,” he gasped. His body stiffened; his erection went rock hard. His hands moved to caress her thighs and hips. She gazed down at him, her heart melting at the love she saw in his eyes.

He slid in perfectly, almost effortlessly, but with just enough resistance to make her moan and her eyes roll back. She knew her release would be imminent. The wet heat of her cunt enveloped him, and he groaned as her muscles clenched around him. Her eyelids drifted closed as she softly bit her lip, feeling all the tension of the past week start to melt away from her. Scully rose up from him a little, feeling the engorged tip of his cock just inside, and there she tightened her muscles around him, started moving up and down, back and forth, feeling every thick inch inside her. With each backward motion, she felt that exquisite sensation building.

Mulder watched her ride him, his face contorted with pleasure as he looked down between their bodies, watching his cock slide into her, gasping at each stroke. Scully felt her muscles tightening, her body warming all over, her rapid breathing turning into mewling pants, the characteristic precursors to an inevitable orgasm. She squeezed her eyes shut and welcomed it, trying to hurry it, as it felt like it had been so long. She shortened the length of her movements over his cock, focusing on the spot that was giving her the most pleasure, knowing she was about to come any moment.

Gazing up at her, Mulder was immersed in the sight of her impending orgasm, the intoxicating sound of his name whimpered desperately on her lips. He never closed his eyes during sex; he loved watching her. Reaching up to her breasts once again, he took her hardened nipples in his hands, rolling them between his fingers. Scully’s clit throbbed, her tension bursting, and she threw her head back, her cries filling their bedroom as feelings of ecstasy flooded her brain. She had come with such force that for a second he thought he might be forced out of her body. She continued to pant as she came down from her high, her mind a heady fog of pleasure.

Keeping her eyes on Mulder, she then slid herself all the way down, his arms coming around her, holding her to him. Pressing her face into his neck, kissing and tasting his skin, her hands going into his soft brown hair, her hips again began to move slowly over his. She wanted him to come, wanted to remind him how good she made him feel, remind him of just how much she loved him, needed him, wanted him. She brought her lips to his ear, kissing him.

“Mulder, fuck me harder,” she whispered, her tongue darting out against his earlobe. She felt him shiver, heard him moan. “Come for me.”

He pulled her tighter against his chest, holding her close. He bent his knees, bracing his feet on the bed, pushing up hard into her, groaning loudly with every thrust. His hands were moving over her back almost frantically, trying to force her down onto his cock as he thrust fast and hard. His moans grew louder with each upward thrust as he felt his orgasm building. She heard him speak in that explicitly sexual way that brought a smile to her lips and an electric current to her swollen clit. Suddenly, Mulder cried out her name, head slamming back into the pillow, pushing up with one massive thrust, his fingers clutching convulsively at her ass. He forced his hips up into Scully, skillful hands moving her forward and back hard, harder. She felt him pulse inside her, filling her with his hot seed. His cock throbbed against her inner walls, and then she was coming again, pleasure bursting at her center as she rubbed her body against his, the muscles in her abdomen contracting, her hands fisting in his hair. They shuddered and jerked as wave after wave of euphoria washed over them, before collapsing in a heap. They held onto each other tight until the last shreds of pleasure were wrought out of both and their breathing returned to normal.

"I've missed you," she whispered as she looked up at him from where she laid atop his chest.

He chuckled, his hand moving up to tenderly brush aside some loose strands of her hair from her face, tucking them behind an ear. "I can tell. You should wake me up like that more often."

She smiled and shifted forward, pressing her lips to his. They lay kissing for several moments before Scully slid of bed and made her way into the bathroom to get ready for work. When she walked out of the house at 5:30, showered and dressed, hot coffee and toast consumed, Mulder was fast asleep.

*****

As Scully drove towards Richmond, that familiar knot of apprehensive nerves started to grow in her stomach. Her first few weeks at Our Lady of Sorrows had been a challenge. The other first-year neurosurgery residents, four in the adult residency program and four in pediatric, had already started back in July. They were incredibly bright and fresh out of medical school, _Alpha Omega_ this and _Phi Beta_ that. The oldest among her fellow pediatric neurosurgery residents was only 29 years of age. They had completed several rotations in surgery while in medical school as well as neurology, and spent long nights writing papers or doing research on neurological disorders.

Scully had spent an entire year in medical school on a pathology clerkship at the Chief Medical Examiner’s Office. She hadn’t done clinical rotations in almost 13 years and had spent her career with corpses. The more time she spent trying to catch up with those young, bright-eyed residents, the more she felt short on credentials. She felt like the dullest scalpel on the table, the proverbial redheaded stepchild among the others. She wondered if she was truly cut out to do this kind of work after so long out of medical school.

Because the other first-years were nearly six months into their residency, Scully had been the only resident participating in orientation. During this period she’d been introduced to the director of the residency program, Dr. Roberta Burke, a wrinkle-faced woman with thick glasses, and the chairman of the neurology department, Dr. John MacDonald, who couldn’t be more than 45 years of age. They had given her words of welcome, reminded her of the sacredness of the profession, and informed her that she had a very long, yet very gratifying, road in front of her. They briefly spoke of the history of neurosurgery at the hospital and the state-of-the-art advancements in the field, which they were privileged to be spearheading.

“You will spend seven years in residency here,” Dr. MacDonald had told her. “Five years as a junior resident and two as a senior resident. If you’re skilled enough and work hard enough, you may be considered for Chief Resident in your final year.”

Dr. Burke’s last words to her during orientation had been, “At Our Lady of Sorrows, our patients expect a lot from us, and so we are going to expect a lot from you.”

Finally, at the very end of the first day’s orientation, Dr. Burke’s secretary, a nun named Sister Mary Clare, handed over a packet with “Scully, Dana K.” printed at the top. It contained her schedule and assignments at the hospital. Sister Mary Clare then wished her “a happy and blessed seven years here at Our Lady of Sorrows.” Upon opening her packet, she’d learned that each attending surgeon in the department of neurology had his or her own list of patients, and was assigned both a junior resident and a senior resident if there were enough in the residency program to go around. To Scully’s dismay, she’d learned that she had been assigned to the department head himself, Dr. MacDonald. This had only added to her anxiety.

Throughout her initial week at the hospital, she proceeded to meet the four other first-years in the pediatric residency. Frank Collins was a stocky Wyoming farm boy with a big, friendly smile and curly red hair who graduated from the University of Virginia’s School of Medicine. He’d said, “It’s a gol-darn pleasure to meet ya” when introduced. He usually brought his home into the conversation, reminiscing about Wyoming’s mountains, rivers, bison, and wild mustang. Nearly two months later, Scully still couldn’t decide if the country-boy act was genuine or not.

Michael Taylor was an athletic-looking man of average height, with dark blond hair and round glasses in front of his blue eyes. He was from Upstate New York and had attended medical school at West Virginia University. She quickly learned that he was 26 years old, the youngest of the other first-years, had been happily married for the last five of them, and hoped to start having children as soon as his residency was finished. Scully got the impression that Mike’s heart was even bigger than Frank’s smile.

Mao Nakama was a 29 year old Japanese-American from Dublin, Ohio, the oldest of the other first-years, who had earned a PhD in Neuroscience from the University of Cincinnati and an M.D. from Vanderbilt University. She kept her long, shiny black hair in a tight ponytail and talked nonstop about fashion, music, celebrities, and everything else currently happening in pop culture. Scully thought that it would be easy to get the initial impression that this young woman was “silly,” but after watching her work she was soon of the opinion that Mao might be the most intelligent of the bunch.

Cala Karimi was from Detroit, Michigan and had graduated from the Medical University of South Carolina. She was ambitious and smart, with a sharp tongue and wicked sense of humor; had large, milk chocolate eyes and a perfect tan. Scully thought she looked exactly like what she was; a Lebanese-American beauty pageant queen who had chosen to wear scrubs all day instead of an evening gown. Cala was opinionated and often spoke with candor, especially about politics and society. One afternoon in the staff lounge, she told Scully that ever since 9/11 she’d been worried that for the first time she was going to experience more racial profiling than her boyfriend, who was African American. She’d felt relieved that her fellow students in medical school as well as their colleagues at Our Lady of Sorrows had been accepting of her.

When Scully arrived at the hospital, she walked across the parking lot in near darkness save the carefully placed light poles. It was still over an hour until sunrise. After changing into blue scrubs and a white lab coat, she reported to her attending physician. To her relief, over the past two months Dr. MacDonald, or Big Mac, as the residents called him, had taken very little notice of her. Usually after a perfunctory “good morning” and a quick handshake, he’d turn all his attention to his senior resident, the current Chief, Anna Harding.

Anna led them up to the pediatric neurology ward to make rounds on their patients. At Our Lady of Sorrows, rounds were made twice a day. The attending surgeons accompanied their residents on rounds every morning except Sunday. The residents made rounds by themselves every afternoon. On Sunday mornings, the senior residents were expected to make the rounds by themselves. During her first week at the hospital, Scully had managed to make it through rounds without revealing too much of her ignorance by staying in the background and keeping her mouth shut while Dr. MacDonald and Anna discussed patient care.

After rounds were made, Dr. MacDonald led them to one of the large classrooms where the Saturday Morning Conference was held each week. All residents were required to attend, no exceptions. As Scully entered the classroom, the conference was just beginning. One of the senior residents was presenting cases from the adult neurology department. She was in awe of his confidence and his command of neurosurgical jargon. Scully sat there in a daze, certain she was the most ignorant neurosurgery resident in the history of Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital. She scribbled notes to herself feverishly: “URO – ???” and “check labs on Kevin Manning.”

She was familiar with that type of conference from medical school. Cases were presented, and some unfortunate junior resident would be asked one complicated question after another that he would always get wrong. The attending or the senior resident would then inform the entire room of the correct answer. Humiliating the junior residents was considered a positive thing. It was supposed to make them work harder.

Leaning forward from where he sat behind Scully, Mike Taylor started whispering. “Hey Dana, how many URO cases did you see at Johns Hopkins?”

She pretended not to hear him. He should’ve asked how many UFO cases she had worked when she was at the FBI. She at least had a confident answer for that one. Eventually she caught on that the senior resident was presenting a case involving a man whose neurological disorder had caused erectile dysfunction and bladder issues. Scully didn’t think it was possible for anyone to shrink down any farther than she did during the Saturday Morning Conferences. As she walked out of the classroom, Cala told her that she’d looked like she was melting.

“But at least I wasn’t called on,” Scully remarked.

“They'll most likely stop ignoring you once you get your Step 1 score back,” Mao said.

“I guess your secret’s safe for another few weeks,” quipped Frank.

She sighed. Which secret? That she’d probably failed her Boards? That she’d spent the majority of her career investigating the paranormal and cutting up dead bodies? That she was severely unqualified to work in pediatric neurosurgery? That Father Ybarra had made the worst mistake of his career by hiring her? That she was currently harboring a wanted felon in her house? Thoughts of Mulder suddenly filled her anxious mind, and she wondered what he was up to, wishing she could call and talk to him. She glanced up at the clock on the wall, counting down the hours to when she would return home.

*****

Mulder sat on the couch in the living room, quietly reading a book. He leaned back against the soft cushions while his ankles crossed atop the dark wood coffee table. He’d been sitting on the couch for the past couple hours, often switching positions to get comfortable and adjusting his reading glasses that kept sliding down his nose. He was reading one of Scully’s books, Jose Chung’s _Doomsday Defense_. It read like fiction, but he was under the impression that the author might actually believe what was on the page. It was difficult to tell with that guy.

A buzzing sound let him know that the dryer was done. He glanced over at the clock; it was almost noon. Scully wouldn’t get out of work for another ten hours. Sighing, he dropped his legs, dog-eared the corner of the page he was reading, and tossed the book onto the table. After removing his glasses, he walked back towards the kitchen, turning into the small hallway. He passed by the pantry and turned left into the utility room. Grabbing the round white laundry basket and opening the dryer door latch, he started pulling out clean clothes.

Upon returning to the living room and setting the basket down by the couch, he noticed through the window a cloud of dust scattering behind a UPS truck driving down their dirt road. Theirs was the only house on this section of Wallis Road, between Orrock Lane and Quaker Road, and so there was really only one reason the UPS truck would be driving on it. Sure enough, there was a lull where the truck slowed down and disappeared from view once it reached the end of their property. After a minute or two, the truck reappeared heading down towards the end of the road.

Wondering what Scully had ordered this time, Mulder slipped his feet into sneakers, pulled on his black leather jacket, and stepped out onto the porch. He then started walking down the gravel driveway towards the road. They kept a P.O. box in Richmond that all their mail was addressed to, but Scully had informed UPS and other couriers to drop all packages off at the gate. It wasn’t long before he’d reached the end of the driveway. Standing behind the gate, he stared at the brown cardboard box sitting on the other side. Looking around cautiously, eyeing his surroundings with keen interest, he pulled out the key ring from his front jeans pocket.

After unlocking the gate, he stepped out hurriedly, grabbed the box addressed to “Dana Scully,” which wasn’t too heavy, and carried it under one arm as he pulled the gate closed with his other hand. Once the gate was locked, he quickly returned to the house. Mulder set the box next to the couch alongside the laundry basket. He wasn’t sure whether the box was for Scully or if it was something she’d gotten for him. It was usually a toss-up. Deciding the laundry was the priority before everything wrinkled, he set about folding their clothes. Soon her pale blue silk pajamas were sitting atop a pile of her clothing next to a stack of his jeans, her cute little polka dot underwear folded next to his socks.

The chore done, he pulled out his pocket knife and opened the cardboard box. After pulling it apart, his eyes widened as he gazed down at the contents. Inside the box were packages of sci-fi Christmas ornaments wrapped in clear plastic. Flying saucers, robots, rocket ships, ray guns, and alien heads wearing red Santa Claus hats. Mulder burst out laughing. He then sighed Scully’s name, remembering an argument they’d had the previous weekend…

On Sunday, her day off and therefore the only day she spent entirely at home, she’d told him that she wanted to put up a Christmas tree. She’d bought some brand new ornaments and decorations on her way home from work Friday evening, the idea of putting up a tree in their own home that they now shared together filling her with warm, happy thoughts. But Mulder hadn’t been too enthusiastic about the idea.

“You know I don’t do Christmas, Scully,” he’d said.

“But a tree would look so beautiful in here, Mulder. Besides, my family is coming for Christmas dinner and I want the place to look nice.”

He stared at her. “What do you mean? I thought you were going to your mother’s for Christmas.”

She hesitated for a moment. “Yeah… but _you_ can’t go with me. So they all agreed to come here so we can be together.”

“But I thought you said Bill Jr was coming east for Christmas this year.”

“He is,” she replied.

He blinked. “Bill Jr is coming here? To our house? _Willingly?”_

She heaved a sigh. “Give him a break, Mulder.”

“And when were you going to tell me this, Scully?”

“I’m telling you now!”

He shook his head in annoyance, walking into the kitchen and getting a glass of cold water.

She sighed, hesitating. “So… can we put up a Christmas tree?”

“By _we_ you really mean me, right?” he answered dryly. “You want _me_ to put up a tree by myself.”

“Mulder, I’ll help you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, when? When you’re at the hospital all day long?”

She stood up from the couch and faced him as he stood against the kitchen counter, holding the glass of water. “I’m home in the evenings, Mulder.”

“Yeah, Scully. Exhausted and with your nose buried in a pile of books.”

A twinge of guilt knotted her stomach. She sighed in defeat. “Fine, Mulder. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I don’t want to argue anymore.”

She turned and sat back down on the couch. In front of her on the coffee table was a stack of medical books, the various pieces of scrap paper containing the notes she’d taken while at work, a spiral notebook, and pen. Had she really expected herself to have the time to put up a Christmas tree? Or had she truly expected Mulder to just be the one to do it? She honestly had no free time, and she knew he felt a lot of negative connotations associated with the holidays. The Boards were on Wednesday, and as each day passed she grew more certain that she’d fail and get laughed right out of her residency spot at Our Lady of Sorrows. Could she really take the time away from studying and much-needed sleep to put up a tree and decorate the house?

He stared at the back of her head, not knowing how to feel. Their peaceful sanctuary was soon going to be invaded by Bill Jr. Just the thought of Scully’s brother walking through their front door made his jaw clench. And she barely had time for him lately. Every time he tried to talk to her about something, anything, it was met with, _“Not now, Mulder. I really need to concentrate on this.”_ He could be sitting in the same room with her and at times feel invisible. He then sighed, setting his glass of water down on the counter. He knew she was working her ass off. He knew how stressed she was, how much pressure she was under. He felt like a jerk.

Walking out of the kitchen, crossing into the living room, he came around the couch and sat down next to her. “I’m sorry.”

Scully looked up and gave him a half smile. “It’s okay.”

“I think we need to make up properly,” he said, grinning suggestively.

The muscles in the pit of her stomach tightened, her inner walls clenched with the sudden need to be filled by him. Noticing her facial expression change, her pupils dilating, he took the pen from her hand and tossed it onto the coffee table. He then pulled her to his chest and kissed her passionately as she wrapped her arms around him.

…Mulder stared down into the box of sci-fi ornaments and took out the invoice. It was dated Friday of last week, before their argument about the Christmas tree. He looked around the living room and began making plans. Fifteen minutes later, he had slipped on his sneakers and jacket once again, and was heading out the door off the kitchen. Walking across the back yard, he came to the gravel driveway and followed it through the mass of trees behind the house. Once he was cleared of the trees, he was met with more rolling pasture land that matched the front of the house. The driveway extended through the acreage until it came upon another locked gate in front of Pine Hollow Lane. From what Scully had told him, there was only one Mennonite farm on that road.

Veering to the right of the driveway, Mulder walked over to the wooden shed. After taking out his keys and unlocking the padlock, he stepped inside. He soon found what he was looking for. Grabbing hold of the axe left behind by the previous owner, he exited the shed and started making his way toward the woods that lined the property.

*****

Scully walked into the doctors’ lounge just before 3:00 pm. Heaving a sigh, she sat down at a table and began copying down the names of Dr. MacDonald’s patients, adding the new admissions to the list. She planned to review the chart on every patient that afternoon, and memorize their diagnoses and treatment plans before she left that night. She had just finished the list when Anna Harding walked into the lounge, tucking her short blonde hair behind an ear.

“Dana,” she said, clasping her shoulder in a friendly way. “I’m going down to North Carolina for the rest of the weekend. I need you to cover for me. I’ll do rounds this afternoon before I leave, but you’ll have to do rounds tomorrow morning.”

Tomorrow morning was Sunday, her only day off. And how could she make rounds on Big Mac’s patients by herself? She was only a junior resident and didn’t even know whether she’d passed her Boards yet or not.

Anna saw the look of horror come over her face and smiled. “Don’t worry! If you have any problems, just ask one of the senior residents to help you. They’ll be happy to.” She then laughed, handed over her beeper, said “Thanks a bunch!” and sailed out of the lounge.

Scully stared down at the beeper in her hand, suddenly feeling nauseous. She slowly clipped it to her lab coat pocket. She felt terrified that at any moment the beeper would go off and then a nurse would start screaming about one of Dr. MacDonald’s patients. “For God’s sake, hurry! The child is coding!”

Once afternoon rounds were finished, she spent the rest of her shift reviewing charts. She was gradually gleaning information, jotting down as many notes as possible like “PLIF = posterior lumbar interbody fusion” and “PCDF = posterior cervical discectomy fusion.” However, there were some things that defied all her attempts to figure out their meaning. “Patient has COACH,” she read in one chart. Like for a sports team? How the hell did she know? She supposed she could ask one of the pediatric nurses, but she’d probably get thrown out of the hospital for practicing medicine without a license _or_ a brain.

Scully drove home from Richmond that night feeling miserable. She felt like an imposter who had infiltrated a group of brilliant neurosurgeons. Once everyone else caught on to how abysmally unqualified she was, she would be banned from the residency program and sentenced to work in a morgue where she belonged. The closer she got to home, the more miserable she felt. And now she was going to have to tell Mulder that she had to go back into the hospital the following morning. He wouldn’t be happy.

At 10:15 pm she pulled into the driveway, unlocked the gate, and then drove towards their small frame house. The porch light was on and the living room curtains were completely closed. She noticed a strange glow of light inside. Her stomach knotted, fear rising up. She quickly reached for her 9mm handgun from the glove compartment box and exited her car. Walking slowly up the steps, she approached the front door and turned the knob. It was locked. Well, that wasn’t strange. She pulled out her keys from her jacket pocket, finding the right one, and unlocked the door. Weapon raised, she swept into the house, the weird glow of light suddenly pronounced.

Mulder stood in the middle of the living area, dressed in jeans and a black pullover, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, raising his arms up in surrender. He held a sandwich in one hand. “Don’t shoot. I know you’ve done it before, but I don’t think this situation calls for it.”

Scully immediately lowered her gun, her widened eyes studying him for a moment before her posture and heart rate relaxed. She then turned to where the glow of light was coming from. There was a Christmas tree in the front left corner of the living room. Her mouth fell open and she stared, speechless. He smirked and walked over, taking the firearm from her hand and placing it on the coffee table along with his half-eaten turkey sandwich. She looked up at him, still not speaking, and looked back to the tree. She then slowly crossed the living room and approached the corner, Mulder following her.

Decorating the tree’s branches were twinkling lights, gold and silver ball ornaments, red garland, angels, doves, UFOs, robots, rocket ships, and aliens dressed as Santa. At the top of the tree, instead of a star, was a large flying saucer with an alien clearly visible through the glass dome on top. She suddenly pictured the look on Bill Jr’s face as he stepped into their house and got a look at that tree, and immediately started laughing. Instantly, she turned and hugged Mulder, who was standing beside her, tightly wrapping her arms around his waist.

He chuckled. “So how was your day as the best pediatric neurosurgeon that place has ever seen?”

Tears suddenly pricked her eyes and she chewed her bottom lip, trying hard not to cry. Right away he sensed something was wrong. Rubbing her back soothingly, he whispered, “What’s up, Doc? Did something happen? Did you operate on the wrong brain?”

She pursed her lips. “Are you trying to make me laugh?”

“Why? Is it working?”

She snorted, shaking her head as she lifted her face from his chest and looked up at him. “I just feel so stupid.” Her voice choked with emotion.

He furrowed his brows, his expression one of confusion, his hands going to rub her shoulders. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know, Mulder. I just feel so out of it, so behind everyone else. I feel like I’m failing.”

His gaze became tender and loving as he slowly shook his head at her. “Scully, you’ve never failed at anything.”

Her face fell and she averted her eyes. She turned a saddened gaze at the hodgepodge Christmas tree, having a vision of gifts piled underneath and an excited little boy eager to open them. Mulder, sensing where her mind was heading, quickly diverted her train of thought. “Did something happen at the hospital today?”

She sighed. “No. I just… I don’t know anything about pediatric neurosurgery.”

He smiled in sympathy, and gently caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “That’s what residencies are for.”

She reached for him again, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. “I missed you so much today.” She heaved a sigh, groaning internally. “I have to go into work tomorrow morning and do rounds.”

“On your day off? Why?”

“Because the Chief Resident decided to go out of town and left me her duties,” she grumbled miserably, before looking up at him anxiously. “But rounds shouldn’t take long. I’ll only be gone a couple hours at the most. And then I’ll be right back here to spend the day with you.”

He smiled sadly. “It’s okay, Scully. Don’t worry about it.”

She shook her head. “But, Mulder, it’s not okay. _It’s not_. I should be here with you as much as possible. You’re alone enough as it is.”

His hands went to her shoulders again. “Look here, Doc. You do whatever you need to do, and don’t you worry about me. I’m fine. I don’t want you up at that hospital worrying about me. There are enough _sorrow_ s there without you bringing in a gloomy cloud.”

She let out a breathy laugh and fought back a smile. She then heard and felt the unmistakable growling of hunger pangs.

He raised his eyebrows at her. “When was the last time you ate something?”

“Um… I had yogurt and an apple about four hours ago.”

Throwing an arm over her shoulder, he then turned and started to lead her towards the kitchen. “How about I make you a sandwich?”

She smiled. “Have you thought about learning how to cook? Now that you’ve mastered how to do my laundry?”

“You trying to domesticate me?” he asked, smirking at her as they approached the dining table.

“No. But coming home and eating a hot cooked meal would be nice.”

He nodded. “Yes, it would, wouldn’t it? I’d like that, too.”

She started laughing and rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she sat down in one of the wooden chairs. Just then, the buzzer on the dryer went off and he started walking away from the table. “Towels,” he called out as he stepped into the utility room.

“Mulder! Get back in here and make me a sandwich!”

Laughing, he tossed the towels into the white basket and then walked back to join her in the kitchen.


	146. "I stand here, ashamed of the choices I made so long ago, when you were just a boy."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Scully continues her training, she faces some challenges her new job brings. Mulder works at adjusting to his present circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simon & Garfunkel - "The Sound of Silence" (1964)
> 
> Hello darkness, my old friend  
> I've come to talk with you again  
> Because a vision softly creeping  
> Left its seeds while I was sleeping  
> And the vision that was planted in my brain  
> Still remains  
> Within the sound of silence
> 
> In restless dreams I walked alone  
> Narrow streets of cobblestone  
> 'Neath the halo of a street lamp  
> I turned my collar to the cold and damp  
> When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light  
> That split the night  
> And touched the sound of silence
> 
> And in the naked light I saw  
> Ten thousand people, maybe more  
> People talking without speaking  
> People hearing without listening  
> People writing songs that voices never share  
> And no one dared  
> Disturb the sound of silence
> 
> "Fools," said I, "You do not know  
> Silence like a cancer grows  
> Hear my words that I might teach you  
> Take my arms that I might reach you"  
> But my words like silent raindrops fell  
> And echoed in the wells of silence
> 
> And the people bowed and prayed  
> To the neon god they made  
> And the sign flashed out its warning  
> In the words that it was forming  
> And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls  
> And tenement halls  
> And whispered in the sounds of silence..."

Groaning at the sound of the 4:00 am alarm going off, Scully reached over to swat the annoying device on the stand at her bedside. She sighed and dutifully slid out of bed, feeling groggy and exhausted. She’d only slept four and a half hours. She cursed the fact she had to go into the hospital on a Sunday after working 16 hours the day before, and carefully made her way across the bedroom in the dark. Pushing the bathroom door open as quietly as possible, she stepped inside and closed it behind her, not turning on the light until it was shut.

Not bothering to shower, after emptying her bladder and brushing her teeth Scully exited the bathroom, leaving the light on to allow some illumination into the bedroom. She glanced at Mulder and felt relieved that she hadn’t woken him. She then stepped quietly over to the closet and got dressed, before descending the stairs to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. After locking the front gate, at 4:28 am she pulled out of the driveway and turned right onto Wallis Road, heading for Richmond.

It was 5:10 when Scully pulled into the parking lot at the north end of Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital. Her stomach was a bundle of knots. As she walked through the door, the security guard at the desk looked up from his crossword puzzle. “Emergency, huh, Doc?”

“Um…” It would take far longer to explain the reality of her situation, and it was just easier to agree. “Yes, an emergency.” She figured she was telling the truth. If she didn’t make it through rounds that morning, she’d probably find herself unemployed. That could constitute a personal emergency.

She made her way to the women’s Doctors’ Locker Room. After slipping on her white lab coat and placing her stethoscope around her neck, she clipped Anna Harding’s beeper to her right pocket. The moment of truth had arrived. Anna skipped out and ran off to North Carolina, Big Mac was asleep, and rounds on his patients needed to be made. That left her in charge, when she felt that she was the greenest rookie among the residents.

Pediatric inpatients of all ages and with any diagnoses were cared for in a newly-remodeled, 40-bed hospital unit on the second floor in the North Tower. Other than the few Children's Hospitals, it was the largest pediatric ward in the state. Because Our Lady of Sorrows was ranked as one of the leading neurology and neurosurgery hospitals in Virginia, the majority of beds were filled with patients in need of those specialties. Dr. MacDonald had eight pediatric patients under his care. A few of them had craniotomies to treat either cancerous or benign brain tumors. One patient was receiving treatment for cerebral palsy; one was being treated for hydrocephalus, and another had tethered spinal cord release surgery early on Thursday morning.

The oldest of Big Mac’s patients was a 19 year old girl with COACH syndrome. Her family lived on a farm in a rural area of Virginia. They’d had no medical insurance or the financial means to regularly travel far distances to monitor such a rare condition. Her family, out of desperation, had driven 250 miles to Richmond on Friday in an effort to save their daughter. Since admission, the girl had been diagnosed with end-stage renal failure, liver failure, and life-threatening breathing abnormalities. But there was not much that could be done for her; she had very little time left. Unless both a viable liver and kidney became available for transplantation, the most Dr. MacDonald could do was make her final days as painless and as comfortable as possible.

Scully just wanted to make it through Sunday morning rounds without making a terrible mistake. She’d decided to do rounds so early that the patients or their parents would be too sleepy to ask her any specific questions about their treatments or prognoses. She couldn’t just say, “I’m sorry, I have no idea.” She walked into the doctors’ lounge and soon became panicked when there weren’t any computer lists with instructions. She had the list from Saturday, but what if a very sick boy or girl had been admitted in the middle of the night? What if the parents later called Big Mac while he was at the country club or the symphony demanding to know why no doctor had shown up to see their precious child?

After exiting the doctors’ lounge, her footsteps echoed down the dark hallways as she made her way to the pediatric ward. One of the nurses soon noticed her pulling a chart from the rack.

“Is something wrong, Doctor?”

“No,” she replied. “I’m just making rounds.”

The nurse stared for a moment. “Rounds… at twenty after five?”

Clearing her throat, Scully averted her eyes. “Uh… yeah. I just wanted to get an early start. There weren’t any computer printouts in the lounge.”

“They’re printed out at 6:30 every morning,” replied the nurse. “So they wouldn’t be in the doctors’ lounge until then.”

“Oh, yeah… I guess I just forgot.”

Rolling her eyes, the nurse shook her head and went back to her charting.

Scully stood outside the first patient’s room for several minutes, carefully reviewing the chart, checking vital signs, intakes, outputs, and progress notes. After letting out a deep, slow breath, she went into the room.

“Mr. Saunders?”

No response.

She tried again, a little louder. “Mr. Saunders?”

Finally, she reached over and shook his forearm. “Mr. Saunders!”

“Huh?” the father responded groggily, waking up in the chair next to his son’s bed.

“Hi, Mr. Saunders. It’s Dr. Scully.”

He slowly blinked his eyes at her. “Who?”

She smiled. “Dr. Scully, remember? I’m one of the residents with Dr. MacDonald.”

“Oh yeah. Dr. Stanley. Is something wrong?”

“No, sir. Everything’s fine. I’m just here to check on Jacob. Do you mind if I take a look at his incision?”

He nodded, and she approached the hospital bed. Hooking a finger under the gauze wraps, she gently lifted the child’s head bandage. There was a small amount of fluid underneath the skin around the incision and there was some swelling. Based on what she’d read in the progress notes, the swelling had gone down considerably since the surgery two days ago. Radiation therapy was due to start in 10 days.

And so Scully’s morning rounds went, patient after sleepy patient. She had a list of things Dr. MacDonald wanted done. (“Change his dressing.” “Check shunt.” “Get a CSF sample.”) Things went well until an African American nurse came up the hallway to speak with her. Scully didn’t recognize her.

“Hi, I’m looking for Dr. Harding.”

“Oh, I’m covering for her,” she replied. “I’m Dr. Scully.”

The nurse blinked. “You are? I don’t think I know you.”

She nodded. “I’m Dr. MacDonald’s junior resident.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, I typically work the overnight shift. I’m Shannon Blake, the nurse taking care of Katie Riesman. Can we get her up?”

She frantically searched her memory. Katie Riesman. Katie Riesman. She looked down at Saturday afternoon’s printout of Big Mac’s instructions. There she was on the list – Kathryn Riesman – but Scully had yet to see her that morning. There were no instructions other than to check the incision. She stalled and mumbled, “Katie Riesman…”

“Yes, Katie Riesman. She had spinal cord surgery three days ago.”

Scully nodded. Right. The patient with the tethered spinal cord. She’d observed Dr. MacDonald perform the delicate surgery. Well, at least she remembered now. But could they get her up? She had no idea. She didn’t know if “they” always got children up the third day after spine surgery or if they never did. What if she made the wrong decision? What if one mistake condemned the child to catastrophic injury, like paralysis?

“Well, can we get her up or not?”

There was no point in thinking it over. There was no way Scully could rationally come up with the answer. Instead, she did the smartest thing she could’ve done and threw herself on the mercy of the nurse. “Look, Shannon,” she said, sighing. “I’m fairly new here, and I honestly don’t know the protocol following a tethered spinal cord release. What do you usually do?”

This was the nurse’s chance, Scully thought. She probably had been humiliated countless times by some egotistical surgeon or resident. Now was her chance for some real payback. She waited. The nurse was silent for a moment, but then let her chance pass her by.

“We usually let them up after 72 hours. Katie’s been doing fine. I think Dr. Harding just forgot to write the order after rounds yesterday afternoon.”

“Oh, okay,” Scully replied. “Then it’s fine. You can get her up.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “I owe you one, Shannon.”

The nurse laughed. “That’s all right. So where’s Dr. Harding?”

Scully wasn’t sure if covering for Anna meant lying for her, too. “Dr. Harding? Oh. Well, Dr. Harding is, uh… unavailable. She couldn’t make it in this morning.”

“Yes, of course,” she replied with a smirk. “I’m sure she’s deathly ill. Tell her I hope she feels better.” Shannon then turned and walked away.

It wasn’t the first time a nurse had helped Scully out, and she doubted it would be the last. By 7:00 she was back in the doctors’ lounge checking Dr. MacDonald’s new list. Thankfully, no new patients had been admitted overnight. One of the pediatric senior residents, 32-year-old James Robinson, was taking his patient list from the printer. Normally the handsome doctor was very well put together, but she thought he looked a little worse for wear that morning. He seemed to be nursing a hangover.

“Hey Dana,” he said, smiling upon seeing her sit down at one of the tables. “Are you making rounds today?”

“Just finished,” she answered.

His brown eyes widened. “Just finished? When did you start, 6:00 am?”

She cleared her throat. “No. I got here at ten after five.”

“Are you fucking nuts? No one does rounds at five o’clock on Sundays.”

Scully explained why she had made rounds so early, and he nodded in understanding as he poured himself a cup of hot coffee.

“So, how’re your patients?” he asked.

“Oh, good. No problems. A couple wounds are draining a little, but everyone’s doing okay. Thank goodness.”

He sat down at the table across from her and smiled. “Listen, you’re gonna do fine. The residents aren’t trying to outdo each other around here. So if you need help, just ask. No one expects much from junior residents anyway. Just do what you’re told, be prepared for every surgery, and read about every case your attending has. Try not to worry about it. It'll all work out. Trust me, I've been where you are.”

She thanked him, despite being sure that her circumstances were probably unlike anyone's who had entered a neurosurgery residency before.

“So you’re covering for Anna, huh?”

“Yeah.”

He chuckled. “There must be a Wake Forest game today.”

Scully hummed. “Is that her alma mater?”

“Yep. She tends to get really sick on weekends during college basketball season.”

“I see.”

James smirked, and then hesitated. “So, uh, you married? Or… you got a boyfriend? Seeing anyone?”

She froze, panic rising inside her. Not married. No boyfriend. But how about a life partner who was wanted on a federal warrant and who'd face the death penalty if apprehended? Surely her fellow residents would just love to talk about that.

He smiled, his brown skin creasing near his twinkling eyes. “Yes? No?”

“I, uh, prefer to keep my personal and professional life separate,” she finally said.

“Okay, okay,” he replied, leaning back in the chair and shrugging. “Message received.” He chuckled as he stood up from the table. “Well, I should start on rounds. It was really nice seeing you, Dana.” He winked at her and then walked out of the lounge.

As Scully drove back home that morning, she was recalling memories from medical school and remembering that doctors were a social bunch. In less than two months at Our Lady of Sorrows, she’d turned down numerous invitations to dinner at others’ homes, to go out for drinks, or to attend some party or other. She was quickly realizing that she could not make friends with those people. There would be no social gatherings, no sharing of personal details. For the sake of protecting her life with Mulder, she would have to maintain a cool distance at all times.

A memory floated to the front of her mind, of an unkind and cruel nickname bestowed on her, one that had stuck with her for nearly 12 years in her former career. She hadn’t really deserved it, chalking it up to immature men in the FBI Academy who couldn’t get what they wanted from her no matter how hard they tried, and then possibly becoming resentful once they believed that "Spooky" Mulder of all people was getting it. There had been nothing truly cold or distant about her in her early years at the FBI. Sure, she had always maintained professionalism, but she was just as eager and friendly and full of bright-eyed ideals as the young medical residents she now found herself working with. She’d laughed heartily and smiled easily, and had an active social life. It was a nickname she hadn’t truly earned back then, but she might earn it now. _Ice Queen._

When Scully walked back into the house at 7:45, she found Mulder in the kitchen standing over the stove. He asked her how her morning went and she was pleased to relay how well rounds had gone. She’d survived having to do rounds on her own, and she was starting to feel more confident. She smiled as she watched him stir the scrambled eggs in the pan.

“So you’re making me breakfast?”

He smiled. “Yep. You hungry?”

She nodded and then sat down at the table. “I’m tired, too.”

“You got a lot of studying to do today?” he asked.

“Um…” She probably should study, but she didn’t want to. “I think I’m just going to take it easy today.”

“How about you go back to bed after you eat?”

“That sounds good,” she replied with a sigh, already feeling her eyelids become heavy. She stared at his back; at the heather gray cotton t-shirt covering the clearly defined muscles underneath. “You wanna come back to bed with me?”

Mulder turned from the stove and grinned at her. “I’m pretty awake, though. I don’t think I could go back to sleep. What if you hang out with me in the living room and take a nap on the couch?”

She watched him place two English muffins into the toaster and smiled. “Will you read to me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.”

“Well then I think that sounds even better.”

After breakfast, Scully lay on the couch under a blanket with her head in Mulder’s lap. He caressed her hair, brushing it back from her forehead, as he read aloud from Jose Chung. She missed simple days like this, just being on a couch together or a motel room bed. They’d read to each other from different news publications or just chat casually, or sometimes spend long moments simply looking at one another, speaking without words. It was one remaining vestige from their former life together, before their world turned upside down over two years ago. She always felt those were some of their best bonding moments; a time when all seemed right with the world and they were insulated against all their responsibilities and worries. She hadn’t had much time for casual days since she started at Our Lady of Sorrows. Scully took Mulder’s hand in hers, holding it against her chest. He could feel her heart beating beneath her breast as she drifted to sleep.

*****

As the days passed since Scully successfully completed Sunday morning rounds, she and Anna Harding began to form a routine. They started to meet for breakfast every morning at the hospital cafeteria before they had to meet up with Dr. MacDonald to make rounds. Technically, according to hospital rules only residents who had started work before 5:00 am or who had been on call the night before were allowed to have breakfast for free. But on Monday morning when Anna saw Scully reach for her wallet at the checkout line she’d said, “When you work as hard as we do around here, breakfast is always free. So pay no mind to that bullshit.”

The neurosurgery residents always sat together in the cafeteria, those in both the adult and pediatric programs often taking up two or three long tables. Occasionally medical students doing clinical rotations would join them. The residents would often talk shop, discussing their opinions on various treatments or surgical techniques. Scully rarely took part in those conversations and at times she barely understood what they were talking about. But she gave them her rapt attention, hoping to glean as much information as possible.

On Friday morning, December 20th, Scully met Anna Harding at the hospital cafeteria and they sat down at one of the tables that already held several residents. Seating herself next to Mike, she then opened her container of yogurt. Down the end of the table one of the residents was reading the morning paper. Paul Bolinski, a senior resident on call from the night before, was resting his head in his hand, staring dully into space, a cold cup of coffee in front of him on the table.

The cafeteria was busy. Beepers were going off. Men and women were hurrying away, leaving their half-eaten breakfasts behind. Others were arriving and taking their place. Several conversations were happening at the same time. Taking the seat across from Scully was a seventh-year senior resident in the adult neurosurgery program, Tom Ryan, who had left Ireland to attend medical school at Virginia Commonwealth University there in Richmond. Not being interested in shoptalk, Tom soon made a comment about a tight skirt he saw on a woman the night before at Tiki Joe’s Cantina, one of Richmond’s singles bars. “A couple more inches and I would’ve seen the dark side of the moon.”

Breakfast was Tom's time to regale the other residents with stories of his latest romantic escapades. Handsome, athletic, witty, and an incredibly charming ladies’ man, Tom was a bit of a legend at Our Lady of Sorrows. He always had some beautiful woman by his side at every social function, and never the same one. Although reasonably skilled as a surgeon, at times his work wasn’t as careful as it should be. He made no secret that his main interests were anatomical, not neurological.

He heaved a sigh of helplessness, and then spoke in his Irish brogue. “I’m only human. I couldn’t fight her off any longer. Against my better judgment I finally had to give in to her demands.”

“Against your better judgment, huh?” remarked Scully, arching her eyebrow at him.

“Even the righteous man falls seven times a day,” he replied with a feigned sense of gravity.

Anna snorted. “Yeah, you wish.”

At that moment Cala and Mao joined them at the table, taking the place of two senior residents who were walking away to answer their pages.

“Dana! You’re going to the Christmas Party tonight, right?” asked Mao.

“What party?”

Everyone stared at her. Scully glanced at their dumbfounded faces.

Tom and Anna exchanged confused looks. “The Christmas Party in the Empire Room at the Jefferson Hotel,” she explained. “The administration puts it on every year. All the surgeons and their spouses will be there, members of the board, charitable benefactors, residents and their significant others. Everyone goes. It's quite a swanky do." 

“Oh… I, uh, I didn’t know anything about it,” Scully replied.

“The sign’s been up on the bulletin board in the doctors’ lounge for three weeks,” Tom said. “Didn’t you wonder why you're only working 10 hours today? Why your shift starts three hours later than normal tomorrow and that morning rounds aren’t until 9:30? But you _are_ gonna go, right? You can’t _not_ go.”

Anna nodded. “Big Mac will expect you to be there. _Everyone_ is expected to be there.”

Cala smiled. “I can’t wait for you to meet my boyfriend, Dana. Are you gonna bring a date?”

She looked around at their expectant, interested faces, her stomach knotting with nerves. She swallowed. Fortunately, Anna’s beeper went off, sparing Scully from having to respond. They quickly stood up from the table and started making their way to the pediatric ward to meet up with Dr. MacDonald.

*****

Late on Friday morning, Mulder walked across the back yard to the driveway, following it through the mass of trees, and then crossed over to the wooden shed. Once he’d retrieved the wheelbarrow and axe, he made his way into the woods. After about 30 minutes, he returned to the back yard with fallen logs he’d harvested in order to turn them into firewood. He then began to split the larger pieces of wood into smaller ones that would fit into the cast iron stove. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and there was a chill in the air; winter was on its way.

He pushed the sleeves of his dark blue pullover up his forearms to his elbows, and then once again raised the axe before bringing it down against the thick piece of wood. He performed this act over and over until beads of sweat formed across his brow. The temperature was supposed to drop considerably that night and he wanted enough wood to keep the house warm once Scully got home. She wouldn’t be getting out of work until 6:00 pm, after working for 12 hours, and he was looking forward to spending the evening together.

Honestly, he was counting down the hours until Sunday, her only day off. Mulder now lived for Sundays. He certainly didn’t begrudge her the time she was putting into reestablishing her career. He’d certainly been the one to leave it in shambles. He knew there would be an adjustment period and that a lot would be expected of her as a resident. He knew that doing well and succeeding in pediatric neurosurgery was important to her. He didn’t hold that against her, he just missed having her around.

Before she took the job, they were together all day, almost every day. Sure, there were times over the last eleven months when that felt claustrophobic, when emotions ran high and they found themselves stuck inside a 200 square foot motel room, unable to escape their suffocating pain and grief. But then they’d found some kind of peace in that Grand Isle beach house, a reconciliation of sorts. They spent every day in each other’s company while still giving each other room and worked at getting back to a good place. He was incredibly thankful for this, fully comprehending the damage that had been done by spending a year apart.

But then Scully went back to work, and Mulder had once again woken up to a lonely existence. He was filling his days with reading, television, household chores, and minor home repairs. He’d spent the previous day scraping off the loose and chipping paint from the front porch steps. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to repaint them or just leave the natural wood as is. He was managing to keep himself busy, but it was lonely and boring without Scully around.

He missed the evenings he spent with her cuddled up next to him while they watched bad TV sitcoms. He missed the quiet afternoons they spent on the couch reading together in silence as he snacked on sunflower seeds while she ate from a bowl of grapes. He missed their political, scientific, or ethical debates after watching the national news. He missed making her laugh with his dumb jokes. He missed the sound of her voice. He missed her small hand casually running through his hair as she moved in and out of whatever room he happened to be in.

How had he managed all those years living on his own? He then sighed. _Christ, how pathetic_ , he thought to himself as he split off another piece of kindling. He felt like a dog, waiting for his master to come home and pet him and love him. But yet he wondered what it would be like to live in his new home and have his days filled with someone he loved. As Mulder swung the axe back down against the piece of firewood, a memory flashed, rushing forward to the front of his mind…

He and Scully were on the couch watching TV, but they were inside her Georgetown apartment. A football game was on. She smiled at him with a look of contented relief as he rubbed her poor, swollen feet. She was eight months pregnant, maybe nine. She was glowing with happiness. She suddenly smiled wide, revealing the dimple in her cheek, and lifted up her sweater. He reached out and caressed the taut skin of her rounded belly, feeling their son kick against his hand. His heart swelled, and his eyes met hers, where he saw so much love and joyful excitement in her gaze.

…The axe came down hard and the third log split seamlessly down the middle with a satisfying crack. Mulder stared at it, his eyes filling with tears as a lump grew in his throat. He bit his bottom lip to choke back a sob. He then continued the chore, splitting firewood with increasing effort and vigor, as silent tears streamed down his face.

After the six large logs had been split into smaller pieces of firewood, Mulder pushed the wheelbarrow to the side of the house. He then spent the next couple minutes carrying the wood into the house through the door off the wraparound porch that led into the small hallway. Once the wood had been stacked in a neat pile inside the utility room, he walked back outside to return the wheelbarrow and axe to the shed. He shut the shed door and stood still for a moment, sniffling and wiping the dried tears from his face. Upon making sure the padlock was secure, he made his way back to the house.

Walking up the back stairs and into the kitchen, he then sat down at the dining table and contemplated fixing himself some lunch, but he had no appetite. Less than a minute later, he heard a car horn honking. He quickly stood up from the table and crossed over to the living room, looking out the window. He couldn’t see any vehicles on the road, but the honking continued. Was the vehicle in front of the gate? He hurriedly made his way upstairs to look out the front second story window.

Sitting in front of the gate was a familiar black Toyota truck, belonging to one Charlie Scully. A confused expression on his face, not having expected any visitors, Mulder walked back downstairs. Slipping on his sneakers and leather jacket, he stepped out onto the porch and headed for the front gate. Upon reaching the cluster of trees about halfway down the drive, he paused when the truck came into his line of sight. He lingered for a moment until he saw the front driver’s side door open and a man with the unmistakable dark red hair of Scully’s younger brother climb out. He held up a stick with a white handkerchief tied to one end and started waving it over his head. Chuckling and rolling his eyes, Mulder quickly walked the rest of the way to the gate.

Soon after, the gate had been unlocked and pushed open so that Charlie could drive through, and then quickly relocked. Mulder noticed the large cardboard box in the truck bed.

“Delivery!” Charlie exclaimed as he hopped back out of the truck.

Nodding, Mulder began to look around nervously. “Um… let’s head up to the house.”

Not long after, the two were sitting in the front seat of the truck. He turned and looked over at Scully’s brother. “So how are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m good. Not bad for an old guy.” Charlie smirked.

“ _Old?_ Are you even 30?” Mulder shook his head.

He chuckled. “I’m 34. But I feel old. Three kids at home and 12 kids on the team are gonna turn my hair gray one of these days. I spend all day surrounded by boys. Then I go home and my kids wanna play video games or go to the park and play baseball. They run me ragged sometimes. My favorite time of day is when all my kids are finally sound asleep and I can just be alone with Jennifer for more than 10 minutes.”

Mulder found that the subject of Charlie’s perfect family and playing baseball at the park with his perfect sons wasn’t a topic he wanted to dwell on. He watched his fast approaching house for a moment, where it stood empty. “So what’s in the box?” he asked, pointing his thumb behind him.

“A brand new desk,” replied Charlie.

He sighed, nodding. Scully must want her own space to study and do research. “Did you really drive all the way down from Baltimore just to deliver a desk?”

Charlie smiled. “We’re spending the weekend at Mom’s. So I won’t have to drive all the way back to Maryland. Besides, Dana wouldn’t have been able to fit the desk into the back seat of her Ford. And it’s not like you can have random delivery guys coming into your house.”

“Right.”

They were soon parked in front of the house and then carrying the box up the front stairs, onto the porch, and into the house. Looking around the living room, he shrugged. “I’m, uh, not sure where Scully wanted to set up her desk.”

Charlie snorted. “The desk isn’t for Dana. It’s for you. She said there’s an empty bedroom right off the living room that you could use for an office.”

“An office. For me.” Mulder furrowed his brows. What the hell did he need an office for? To research the most efficient way to clean hardwood floors? To look up new recipes whenever he finally decided to learn how to cook?

“Yeah.” Charlie grinned. “Surprise.”

The two men then got to work with assembling the desk inside the small bedroom.

Sighing with satisfaction, he clasped the shoulder of his would-be brother-in-law. “Dana will be pleased. Now you just need a computer and maybe some of those sci-fi magazines and, uh… I don’t know. Alien abduction books, or… maybe a collection of government conspiracy books.”

Mulder nodded silently, staring at the desk.

Charlie looked him over, his brows knitting with concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

He sighed. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“So are you gonna take me on a tour of the house, or what?” asked Charlie, smirking.

Mulder gave him a half smile. “Sure.”

They soon were walking through the house and chatting casually. He asked after Charlie’s basketball team while Scully’s brother took keen interest in the house, asking lots of questions and offering compliments about the home. Walking back out of the master bedroom, Mulder made for the stairs but Charlie had paused and was looking at the door at the end of the hallway. It was the same dark wood as the floor and the trim along the wall, but unlike the master and the hallway bathroom it was shut.

“What’s that room down there?” asked Charlie. “Another bedroom?”

“Um…” Mulder swallowed, his stomach knotted. “It’s… nothing. It’s empty.”

Charlie walked down the hall towards the room and as he opened the closed door, Mulder’s head lowered and his brows furrowed.

Looking around the room, he noticed how bare it was. It was nothing more than four walls and a floor. He crossed over to the closet, opening the doors. It was also bare; housing no clothes or other storage of any kind. It felt strange to him considering every other space in the house looked lived in. Even that room downstairs that they’d just turned into an office had had boxes of books and files in it. “So, um, what’s Dana gonna do with this room? You guys gonna turn it into a spare bedroom?”

“We haven’t talked about it,” Mulder replied evasively, before turning and walking back down the staircase.

Charlie came down the stairs behind him and moments later they were standing together in the living room. An awkward silence hung in the air around them. He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his light blue jeans. “Mulder, are you sure you’re all right? Are, uh… things okay between you and Dana? Is it okay that I showed up here? I mean, I know you weren’t expecting me. I wouldn’t want to have made you nervous or… something.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. And we’re good… Things are fine. And you’re welcome here anytime, Charlie. You and your family. So don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”

“Mom and Jennifer are very excited to come over here for Christmas,” Charlie said, changing the subject. There was something obviously off about Mulder, judging by his demeanor and how often he kept saying the word ‘fine,’ but he didn’t want to press him into talking. “Don’t know how Dana is gonna have time to cook for everyone, though. She said she has to work on Christmas Eve.”

 _When wasn’t Scully working_ , he thought miserably. He could tell his mood was plummeting fast and hoped that her brother would be leaving soon.

Charlie pursed his lips and nodded, and understood that he wasn’t going to get a reply. “So, I guess I’ll be off. Shouldn’t take me too long to get to Alexandria. Thanks for letting me crash in on you. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything, or… mess up your routine in any way.”

Mulder shook his head and managed a small smile. “It wasn’t a problem. Like I said, you’re always welcome.”

Not long after, he was relocking the gate after Charlie had pulled away from the driveway and turned left onto South Quinton Road. Shoving the keys back into his pocket, he quickly made his way back inside the house. He then aimlessly walked around the kitchen for several moments, not quite knowing what to do with himself. He was soon sitting hunched over the dining table, leaning forward on his elbows, with his hands folded in front of him as he stared at nothing. All was silent. The house was empty, devoid of Scully, her face, her voice. Neither were there the obvious sounds that would indicate a child lived there. He could sense the darkness starting to descend on him. He could feel the darkness and the silence, and his head was humming with them. Mulder then felt emotion rising up in his chest, soon making it difficult for him to breathe without crumbling into shuddering sobs.

“Fuck,” he breathed, feeling tears threaten to fall once again, his hands balling into tight fists.

Quickly standing up, he took deep, steadying breaths as he roughly scrubbed the tears from his face with his hands. The time on the clock told him it was going on 2:00. Scully would be back in a few hours. He needed to get his shit together. She couldn't come home to find him a wreck. Sighing, he walked away from the table and over to the refrigerator, and then one of the kitchen cabinets. He still had no appetite, but he was going to force something down. The last thing he needed was for her to start worrying about him, for her to feel like she needed to play doctor at home too.

About an hour later, he was sitting in the living room in front of the television, the tears long having subsided, mindlessly flipping through channels. There were still some chores that needed to get done and he was trying to muster up some motivation. If Scully had walked in the door that moment, she wouldn't have seen any sign of the anguish that had filled those walls earlier. But when Mulder closed his eyes, he could see his face… well, really just his eyes – those large blue eyes with the liquid luster and penetrating gaze that had filled him with a sense of warmth he had never known before. But those eyes now burned into his conscience, and filled him with condemnation.


	147. "Rare or lucky are those who find it."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exam date looms in front of Scully. Mulder passes the time. The hospital's annual Christmas Party brings about some conflict and uncomfortable situations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bob Seger - "We've Got Tonight"
> 
> I know it's late, I know you're weary  
> I know your plans don't include me  
> Still here we are, both of us lonely  
> Longing for shelter from all that we see  
> Why should we worry, no one will care girl  
> Look at the stars so far away  
> We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow  
> We've got tonight babe  
> Why don't you stay
> 
> Deep in my soul, I've been so lonely  
> All of my hopes, fading away  
> I've longed for love, like everyone else does  
> I know I'll keep searching, even after today  
> So there it is girl, I've said it all now  
> And here we are babe, what do you say  
> We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow  
> We've got tonight babe  
> Why don't you stay
> 
> I know it's late, I know you're weary  
> I know your plans don't include me  
> Still here we are, both of us lonely  
> Both of us lonely
> 
> We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow  
> Let's make it last, let's find a way  
> Turn out the light, come take my hand now  
> We've got tonight babe  
> Why don't you stay  
> Why don't you stay

After finishing rounds on Friday morning, Scully and Anna started making their way to the top floor of the North Tower. The residents’ work week at Our Lady of Sorrows was divided into clinical days and surgery days. The residents either spent all day in surgery or saw patients on the ward all day. On clinical days, residents from both neurosurgery programs spent most of the day on the second floor, which housed the 25-bed Adult Neurology Unit and the 21-bed Neurological Critical Care Unit along with the Pediatric Unit. Residents could often be found hovering around the neuroscience monitoring stations that were placed after every fifth patient room, or every third room in the NCCU.

On surgery days, Scully was always the second assistant on all cases. Anna would get to operate once in a while, but as the junior resident she did little more than set up the self-retaining retractors and write the post-op orders. On clinical days she tagged along with Anna and Dr. MacDonald as they visited patients in the mornings. Big Mac spent those days performing administrative duties as the chairman of the neurology department, so afternoon rounds were left to his residents. Post-op rounds on surgery days were also left to his residents while he thoroughly prepped for the next procedure.

Scully and Anna stepped out of the elevator and onto the seventh floor. They were soon squeezing in the door of the residents’ lounge just as three men were coming out. Inside, five or six residents were dropping off briefcases, reading mail, or talking. In one corner, in an old, overstuffed armchair, a senior resident in the adult neurosurgery program was sound asleep. He wore a rumpled brown sport coat and his head lolled from side to side, his mouth slightly open. A built-in bookcase in the wall to the right held 24 mail slots, the exact number of residency spots. Anna had told Scully that this was the first time in two years that every residency position had been filled. Above the mail slots was a bulletin board covered with notices from Dr. Roberta Burke, the head of the residency program.

“The annual Neurological In-Training Exam will be held in the auditorium on Saturday, January 11. All residents are required to take this exam.”

“Male residents are reminded that the dress code – coat and tie – also applies on the weekends. No resident is to make rounds unless wearing a coat and tie.”

“There is a time and place for everything, including humor. However, the NCCU is **not** the place. Whoever has information regarding the individual(s) responsible for dressing a blow-up doll as a patient and placing it in an empty bed for unsuspecting medical students to discover, please see me ASAP.”

“Saturday Morning Conference is MANDATORY for all residents. NO EXCUSES!”         

Scully stared at the January 11th date, her stomach knotting with anxiety. She would be expected to know as much as the other first-years. She would be expected to show that she was making progress; that she was catching up with her peers. What if she only proved just how behind she was? What if she failed? The thought of being called into Dr. Burke’s office was deeply unnerving.

As the director of the residency program, Dr. Burke ran their lives. She was their mistress and sovereign, the pilot guiding the plane that was carrying them to their final destination. The residents would not get through the program, would not become neurosurgeons, unless Dr. Burke gave her blessing.

“Watch out for Burke,” Anna had warned her during the first couple weeks of residency. “Every year, one or two residents get on her bad side and she makes their lives miserable. She stops them in the hallways if their tie is crooked or their skirt is one inch too short, picks on them at conferences, puts them on two consecutive months of night float. It’s hell. Don’t piss her off or your ass is grass.”

Scully planned to stay as far away from the residency program head as possible. She felt that if Dr. Burke ever found out just how ignorant she still was, she’d bury her. “Do your job, keep your mouth shut, and don’t draw any attention to yourself” was the message she kept repeating inside her head. She was currently the Inconspicuous Resident, and was planning on staying that way for as long she could.

Being the Inconspicuous Resident on Dr. MacDonald’s service was easy. Within a week, he must’ve figured out just how behind she was. For that reason he did the kindest thing he could have done: he ignored her. When they made morning rounds it was always Anna to whom he spoke about patient care. In the operating room it was always Anna whom he allowed to perform procedures. Sometimes she wasn’t sure if Big Mac even knew her name, but she didn’t blame him. Scully believed that she needed to get herself to a certain level of knowledge and competence before it became worth his while to teach her.

That did not bother her. There were many things which compelled her to learn, and learn quickly. The fact that her decisions could literally cripple or even kill a child was terrifying to her. Sure, there were safeguards in place. It would be quite a long time before a scalpel was placed into her hand. But someday her turn would come, and she’d better be ready for it.

Scully now studied harder than she had ever studied before – including the four years she’d spent in medical school, the five months she spent at the FBI Academy, the years of pathology training at Quantico, and all the years she’d spent working with Mulder, where the nature of her studies took her in unexpected and exciting directions. This was partly because she was embarrassed over her ignorance compared to her fellow first-years, partly because she realized that the health and lives of children would soon depend on her, and partly because she truly enjoyed what she was doing. She was falling in love with pediatrics, an avenue of medicine she’d given little consideration when at Johns Hopkins.

Every night after work that week she took out the scraps of paper upon which she had quickly written down questions and notes. She went over them one by one, transferring them to her spiral notebook, leaving enough room on the page for her to fill in the answers to her questions after scoring through her medical textbooks. Some nights she’d wake up on the couch at 1:00 or 2:00 am, with _Operative Techniques in Pediatric Neurosurgery_ still open on her lap. After slowly staggering up to bed, she’d curl up next to Mulder for a few hours. She would then start all over again in the morning.

Anna could be impatient from time to time with her barrage of questions. The senior resident knew that if she encouraged her, she would likely pepper her with questions all day. But ever since Scully had successfully completed morning rounds on her own the previous Sunday, the Chief Resident did one thing which helped her greatly: she started dumping responsibility on her. Anna had constantly took off and left her to handle Big Mac’s patients on the ward when he wasn’t around that week. “Thanks a bunch!” was her comment about almost anything before quickly disappearing off the floor.

Scully sighed as she stared at the bulletin board full of notices. The January 11th exam date jumped out at her, her stomach knotting fiercely. She started feeling sick with anxiety. She didn’t know how she was going to pass that exam. She’d likely learn her Step 1 score the Wednesday before. What if she failed her Boards? And then failed the In-Training Exam? She couldn’t see someone as tough as Dr. Burke or as tenaciously competent as Dr. MacDonald allowing her to continue with the program should that happen.

Anna turned from her empty mail slot and noticed the look on her face. She then glanced up at the board, pursing her lips. “We should probably head back down to the unit, Dana.”

Nodding silently, she started moving towards the door. Scully and Anna were soon standing outside the elevator doors, where Big Mac joined them, having left his office down at the other end of the seventh floor. He greeted them with a smile and a nod, before pressing the already-lit down button.

Anna looked over at Scully, eyeing her thoughtfully for a brief moment. She then turned to their attending. “Say, Dr. MacDonald, I don’t think Dana here has heard _Albert and the Lion_.”

“Ah,” Big Mac said, smiling. “You’ve never heard it?”

Scully shook her head. “No, sir.”

He put his right hand on Scully’s shoulder and broke out into a passable cockney accent as he began to narrate a poem about an English boy named Albert and his trip to the zoo. His face beamed excitedly as he glanced back and forth between his residents, arms gesturing enthusiastically, eyes twinkling humorously, while he related the comical story of a little boy’s encounter with a lion. The poem ended with Albert being eaten by the lion and the boy’s father concluding that “what can’t be helped must be endured.”

The elevator doors then opened and Dr. MacDonald shot them a friendly wink as he stepped over to enter the empty compartment. Anna gave her a slight knowing grin before following him. Scully entered the elevator, and as Big Mac pushed the button for the second floor, she sighed, guessing at just how often she’d have to repeat that line to herself over the next seven years.

*****

Still feeling quite morose, Mulder continued to aimlessly flip through television stations before settling on the Weather Channel. A snow storm was predicted to come their way early next week. The weather forecaster smiled, excited that central Virginia could be getting a white Christmas. He sighed. The grass on their property would need to be cut before the snow arrived. He made a mental note to remind Scully to ask their Mennonite neighbors on Pine Hollow Lane to take care of that.

He turned off the television and pulled himself off the couch. He stepped over to the new stereo system she had bought him, filling up the five-disc CD player. He pressed play on disc one and returned to the kitchen, where he got down to work. He moved back and forth across the sage green and ivory checkerboard floor as David Bowie’s voice filled the house, washing the dishes and rinsing out the sink, wiping down the countertops. Moving to the left of the sink, he cleaned the stovetop. After about 15 minutes or so, he was placing the cleaning supplies back inside the cabinet under the sink. Once he’d mopped the linoleum floor, he stood with his hands on his hips and let out a sigh, feeling slightly pleased with himself.

He walked into the half bathroom in the hall, cleaning the toilet and sink, refilling the hand soap, removing the used towels from the bar on the wall and tossing them out onto the hallway floor, spraying the mirror and quickly wiping it clean, mopping the floor. He stepped out of the bathroom and went to the linen closet to retrieve a clean pair of hand towels. Once he’d placed them on the towel bar next to the sink, he grabbed the damp used ones from the hallway and threw them into a basket inside the utility room next to the stack of firewood he’d placed in there earlier. He’d tackle the laundry on Saturday.

Mulder glanced at the clock; it was 4:07. He counted down the time to when Scully would get home. He knew she usually got out of work around 6:00 on Fridays, so if she got out on time he could expect her home by 6:30. He hoped she wouldn’t have too much studying to do after work and they could just veg out on the couch all evening. Maybe there would be a good movie on TV. He then made his way up the stairs, carrying a round white laundry basket.

As he walked to the bathroom, his gaze fell on the closed door at the end of the hallway. Something deep inside his chest clutched at him and ached, yet he quickly suppressed his emotions and the feelings of guilt. Averting his eyes from the empty bedroom door, he entered the hallway bathroom. He collected the used towels from the rack behind the door and tossed them into the basket. He replaced the hand towels on the bar next to the sink with clean ones. Once the toilet, claw-foot bathtub, sink, and tile floor were clean, he moved into the master bedroom.

Scully pulled up in front of the house at 4:45 and shut off the engine. She slowly unbuckled her seatbelt, sighing. She’d driven home with mixed emotions, and couldn’t see an effectual resolution. Her stomach began to knot with apprehension and guilt as she reached over to grab the pizza box in the passenger seat. She then opened the car door and got out. When she walked up the steps to the porch and approached the front door, she thought she heard organ music playing inside. Her brows knitted in curiosity and she unlocked the door.

Stepping inside, she was immediately greeted with the unmistakable citrus scent of cleaning products, and Prince blaring in the living room. She looked around the room as she closed the door, glanced into the kitchen, but her partner was nowhere to be seen.

“Mulder!” she called out over the music.

No response. She shook her head and reached back to the elastic band at the nape of her neck, pulling her ponytail loose. She set the pizza box down on the coffee table. She then crossed over to the entertainment center against the wall next to the Christmas tree and picked up a CD that had been lying on top of the stereo, snorting. She probably hadn’t listened to _Purple Rain_ since high school. She shrugged off her coat and laid it atop the armchair, before making her way up the stairs as Prince sang “Let’s Go Crazy” in the living room.

Her eyes soon fell on the open doorway to their master bedroom as she reached the landing, where she saw Mulder fitting their mattress with a clean set of white sheets. He was bobbing his head up and down, singing along to the music coming from downstairs. Their silver and blue duvet lay in a pile across the floor at the foot of the bed. She smiled to herself as she watched him tuck in a corner. Fighting a grin she moved to stand in the doorway and leaned against the beam, folding her arms.

Sensing eyes on him, Mulder stood up quickly and turned, his eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t expected her home so soon. His face then broke out into a big smile and he tossed the two pillows with fresh cases up to the head of the bed without taking his eyes off her. Scully stepped into the room, grinning, and he quickly closed the distance between them. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her close and leaned down to capture her lips. She sighed contentedly into his mouth, her arms rising up around his neck. He kissed her softly, sweetly and made relishing sounds as he wrapped his arms arounds her.

Scully broke the kiss after a few moments and pulled back to look up at him. “Miss me?”

He looked down at her, and for a moment she thought she saw a flicker of sadness in his gaze, but it was just as suddenly gone. “I always miss you.” He smiled; his hold on her loosening until his hands rested on her hips. “You’re home early. How’d you manage that?”

“Uh…” Her face fell and her stomach tightened with guilt. “Well…” She hesitated. “Extenuating circumstances. There’s this… thing… I need to go to tonight.”

“What kind of thing?” he asked, his brows furrowing.

Sighing, she averted her eyes. “The hospital’s annual Christmas party. It’s at the Jefferson Hotel. Everyone will be there – the administration, the attending surgeons and residents in the neurosurgery program, physicians in other departments. It’s a big to-do, I guess. And… I have to go.”

He took a step back and crossed his arms. She’d been gone all day and now she was going to have to leave again. He hadn’t really even spoken to her since the evening before. He went up to bed around 10:30, but had left her downstairs studying. He had no idea when she’d eventually come upstairs. He’d fallen asleep long before that and she’d already left the house when he’d woken up that morning. “A party, Scully? You just spent all day with those people.”

“I know, Mulder.” She swallowed, and her stomach knotted even more when she thought she might’ve heard a slightly resentful tone in the way he’d said _those people_. “Look, I don’t want to go. I’d much rather stay home with you.”

“Then why don’t you?” he challenged.

She sighed. “I can’t be the only one in the residency program to not show up, the only doctor to not attend. How do you think that would look?” She nervously played with her fingers. “I wish you could go with me.”

He nodded, thrusting his tongue into his cheek. “Well, we both know I can’t go anywhere.”

They both became silent, but the music continued to play on the stereo downstairs in the living room, Prince crooning the words “just take me with you.” Despite the music filling the house, the silence between them seemed to grow louder.

“What time do you have to be there?” he eventually asked.

“Seven o’clock,” she replied. “I should probably start getting ready.”

He merely nodded, and didn’t reply. She gazed at him nervously as he left the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Moments later the music was silenced.

*****

At 6:25 pm, Scully slipped her feet into black stiletto heels. She then opened her closet door and stood in front of the floor-length mirror, taking in her appearance. Long, loose red curls fell past her shoulders. The semi-square neckline of the gray lace pencil dress revealed ivory skin and just a hint of cleavage. The hemline fell just past her knees, revealing minimal leg. She ran her hands down the front of the dress, smoothing any creases. She gently tugged down the ¾-length sleeves.

As she went to shut the closet door, her eyes fell on the ragdoll that had once belonged to Mulder’s mother, handed down from her mother or grandmother, a gift he had given her when she was pregnant. It was perched atop the shelf, with its homemade blue floral dress and hair made of dark brown yarn. The thought of him giving her a doll still sometimes made her chuckle. It had been the least expected gift in the world, and strange coming from him. But it had been one of the few remaining heirlooms his family had left, and she knew that in another life the doll likely would’ve been handed down to Samantha. Perhaps the doll had symbolized hope for the next generation, and Mulder had wanted her to have it, had wanted their child to have it. And there it was, sitting up on a shelf, hidden away out of sight, just like the hopes they’d once had for a life very different from the one they were forced to lead now.

Sighing, she closed the closet door, grabbed her black clutch purse from atop her dresser, and left the bedroom. When she reached the foot of the stairs, she turned and saw Mulder watching the television. The sound of news anchors recapping the day’s stories filled the living room. Turning his head in her direction, his eyes widened at how beautiful she looked. His heart pounded in his chest. He managed a small smile.

“Thanks for the pizza,” he said.

She glanced at the box on the coffee table, at the used plate and napkin sitting on top. She nodded, giving him a hesitant smile. The guilt was churning her stomach. She didn’t really want to go to the party, but she also didn’t want to put herself on the outs with Dr. MacDonald, Dr. Burke, the other attendings in the neurology department, her fellow residents, Father Ybarra and the other administrators. Her career depended on those people. What kind of impression would she make by being a no-show? Yet that voice in the back of her mind was starting to tell her that her priorities might be shifting, that her career was possibly asserting itself as the most important thing in her life, and that everything else would now be coming second, even Mulder.

“How long do you think you’ll be gone?” he asked, his eyes following her as she stepped over to the coat rack.

She slipped on her black coat. “I don’t know. I’m hoping not long, but who knows? I don’t want to leave too early and have everyone wonder where the hell I went. I don’t want to make a bad impression.” Doctors could drink and talk for hours, she thought miserably. As she fastened the buttons and tied the black sash around her small waist, she gazed over at her partner on the couch. The cast iron stove had bathed the downstairs in warmth and just the thought of cuddling up next to him under a blanket was so inviting. She sighed and turned towards the door.

Mulder clenched his jaw. He didn’t want her to go. The hospital was already taking up huge chunks of her time. The time he had with her was little in comparison, and that was now being imposed upon. She was out there living in the real world, making a life for herself that was separate from him. He wasn’t included in that life. There was no place for him there. He was suddenly afraid that one day he’d wake up to find that he’d faded into the background, no longer relevant; that although he’d once burned the brightest star in her sky, he’d gone out.

Scully glanced over at the open doorway to the small bedroom and her eyes widened in surprise at the desk. She turned back to look at Mulder excitedly. “Charlie was here today?”

“Yeah,” he replied, shifting to look at her.

She smiled. “You like your new desk?”

He licked his bottom lip, sucking on it for a split second. “Yeah, it’s nice. Thanks.”

Her face fell slightly, and she filled with worry. “Then… what’s wrong?”

Mulder thrust his tongue into his cheek, hesitating for a moment. “Nothing. Just… what made you think I needed a desk?”

“I… well, I thought it would be good for you,” she replied. “Just because we’ve settled down in this house and you’re not… working… it doesn’t mean that you have to give up your interests. There’s research and… writing. There’s so much you’ve seen and done. Why not write it all down?”

“Scully, who is ever gonna read it?” he scoffed.

She shrugged. “I would, Mulder.”

He scoffed again. “Why? You were there.”

Sighing, she shut her eyes and rubbed the space between her brows. “I’ve ordered a computer and I set up an appointment with the cable company to have the Internet installed. You can surf the web and research to your heart’s content. Maybe you won’t feel so closed off from the outside world.”

He felt a twinge of anxiety at the thought of having the Internet in the house and wanted to protest, but he decided he was better off choosing his battles. “Yeah, maybe I can reconnect with my buddies on the MUFON message boards.”

Arching an eyebrow at him, she pursed her lips, despite hearing the sarcasm dripping from his tone. She shook her head and moved again towards the front door. After unlocking it she turned to look at him. “There will be no _communication_ with the outside world. You got that, _M.F. Luder?”_

He shot her a deadpan look. He watched her smirk and grab hold of the knob, pulling the door open. He quickly stood up from the couch. “Scully, wait.”

She stepped back, her hand still on the doorknob, and looked at him. “What?”

Feeling slightly foolish, he hesitated. He wanted her near him. He wanted to listen to her voice, feel her body curled up next to his, breathe in her scent. It really was lonesome there without her, but he didn’t want to tell her so. He never wanted to admit just how lonely he was. The last thing he wanted was for her to start feeling sorry for him. But he didn’t want her to leave. “Please don’t go.”

Her brows knitted as she gazed at him, seeing his eyes radiate such vulnerability. “I’m sorry, Mulder. Believe me when I say that I’d much rather stay with you. But I have to go. And it’s just one Christmas party. It’s not as though something like this is going to happen all the time. Okay? I’ll be back home as soon as I can.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, nodding, trying to manage a small smile.

She walked through the doorway and onto the porch as he walked over to the wall by the door to turn the porch light on. He stared at the back of her head as she began to descend the front steps. His heart started pounding in his chest again and his mouth went dry as he watched her walk away from him. He suddenly felt afraid, afraid of being forgotten, of being left behind as her life moved forward without him.

“Scully.”

She turned around and saw him take a few steps out to the porch. Her eyebrows rose as she looked at him expectantly.

He swallowed. “I love you.”

Her eyes widened a little in surprise at the words he rarely said but clearly expressed in every other way on a daily basis. She could see anxiety and maybe even fear etched across his features, and his eyes seemed to be pleading with her. She felt her throat constrict as she fought the sudden emotion rising up inside.

“I love you too, Mulder,” she said quietly. “I’ll try not to be gone too long. I’ll see you when I get back.”

He nodded and watched her turn to walk towards her silver Ford Taurus. He stood on the porch and watched her make her way down the driveway until her car disappeared from view.

*****

Scully pulled up in front of the historic Jefferson Hotel in the Monroe Ward neighborhood of Richmond. After handing her car keys to the valet attendant, she made her way through the entrance doors. Upon checking her coat, she followed the signs that led from the lobby to the Empire Room. A young woman in a black pantsuit stood outside the open doorway holding a pen and clipboard. Scully guessed she was a hotel employee. After giving the woman her name, which was verified on the list the clipboard contained, she gained admittance to the party.

The elegant banquet room was large and characterized by several monumental columns, a wall of 30-foot windows, and a bank of charming French doors that opened to a mezzanine which overlooked an expansive rotunda. Three large chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the room was bathed in red and green mood lighting. A DJ was set up in one corner that was playing a mixture of soft rock hits and renditions of Christmas songs that were suitably mellow for the occasion. A long line of red cloth-covered tables with stainless steel trays, lit Bunsen burners underneath them, was against a side wall. Opposite them, a free-standing bar with tip jars at both ends had a line of people waiting to be served.

The room was packed with people, and the buzz of multiple conversations happening at once filled the air to mingle with the music that was playing. Scully moved slowly around the room, listening to snippets of conversation. Most of those in attendance she didn’t know or could even recognize by face. She was still quite unfamiliar with the staff that made up other departments at Our Lady of Sorrows. She walked by one small group that stood around a handsome, middle-aged orthopedic surgeon as he told a story featuring a man who had cut off his thumb in a lawnmower accident.

“I had to remove his big toe and sew it onto his hand,” he said.

Scully started laughing. The others stopped and stared at her in confusion. No one else had laughed. She realized that doctor had been serious. Clearing her throat, she excused herself and quickly walked away from the group. After about five minutes she finally found some of her fellow residents. Mao and Cala beamed at her and told her how beautiful she looked, before introducing their significant others. Mike and Frank lifted their glasses in greeting and introduced their wives, who gave her friendly smiles and “hellos.” When they inquired if she had brought anyone with her, she told them she had come alone. She was thankful none of them felt the need to comment on this.

Tyler Epps, Cala Karimi’s boyfriend of five years, was a strikingly beautiful man whose darker skin set him apart from most of the other people in the room. His easy smile revealed brilliant white teeth and dimples in his cheeks. Scully learned that after meeting Cala during their senior year in college, he had given up on starting a career in sports medicine in Detroit to move with her to Charleston and then to Richmond. After months of dead ends, he had finally managed to get a job as a personal trainer at a local fitness center in November.

Mao Nakama’s husband, Desmond, also hailed from the Japanese-American community in Dublin, Ohio. They’d married right after her graduation from medical school. Upon Mao’s acceptance into Our Lady of Sorrows’ residency program, he’d been able to land a job as a financial analyst at a prominent corporate accounting firm. Their transition from Cincinnati to Richmond had been fairly smooth.

Sandra Taylor had green eyes and short blonde hair. She was even more athletic looking than her husband. She and Mike had married the summer after their junior year in college after dating since high school. He had told Scully previously that she’d given up on a promising career in public relations to move there and had started working at the Richmond Public Library.

The biggest surprise was Tina Collins. It seemed to Scully that at first appearances Frank and his wife were polar opposites. In her black cocktail dress and diamond earrings, Tina was as polished and sophisticated as her husband was simple and unrefined. Her brown skin and long black hair were a stark contrast to his paleness and the mop of red curls on his head. Tina was an architect. They had married when he was in medical school and she was getting her master’s degree.

They were soon all standing around drinking beer or wine. There was laughter and more shoptalk.

“I’m not kidding you,” Frank said in the middle of a story from one of his clinical rotations when in medical school. “This feller was so liquored up he didn’t even know there was an arrow sticking out of his arm. Him and his buddies had decided that drunken archery lessons would be fun, and they ended up in the emergency room. They raised hell all night. I finally crashed in the on-call room at 5:00 am. There was no point in going home. I was just getting to sleep when the charge nurse rushes in and tells me I needed to hurry up and see some patient who thought Russian spies were hiding in the other rooms.”

“She’s probably on to something. Have you been to the fifth floor in the North Tower? It’s crawling with Commies.”

Scully had turned at the sudden sound of the familiar voice. Tom Ryan was standing there smirking at them. A woman she didn’t recognize with short blonde hair and a tight red dress was hanging onto his arm.

“Well if that ever happens at Our Lady, then I’ll have the nurses page you,” Frank replied.

“No thanks, I’ll pass. So what happened?”

Frank sighed. “Well, I checked the other rooms and even under her gol-darn bed and told her that no Russian spies were in the hospital. Then she accused _me_ of being a Russian and that’s when I paged for a psych consult.”

Mike smirked. “For her or for you?”

“At that point I think I needed one just as bad as she did.”

Tom then gave them a teasing smile. “Well hello, first years. Enjoying the festivities?”

They smiled and introduced their significant others. Scully merely nodded.

Tom looked at her, pursing his lips. “And where’s your date?”

Just then Anna Harding appeared, sparing her from having to answer. “Hi, Dana.”

“Hi!” Scully turned in her direction with a smile and immediately noticed that Anna was holding hands with a very pretty, visibly pregnant woman wearing a dark green velvet dress.

“This is my partner, Kim Sokernyk.”

Scully smiled and they shook hands as Anna introduced her as Big Mac’s junior resident. She was slightly surprised that Anna had never mentioned her partner before.

Kim had warm hazel eyes and straight brown hair that fell to her shoulders. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. Anna speaks very highly of you.”

“Really?” replied Scully in slight disbelief.

Anna chuckled, and then introduced her partner to the rest of the group.

“Hi Kimmy,” said the senior resident, his voice full of teasing humor.

“Hi Tom,” she replied, grinning.

His date then let go of his arm. “I’m gonna head to the little girls’ room. I think I need to put some more lipstick on.”

The group watched her walk away. “Is that even possible?” quipped Anna.

Tom gave her a blank stare. “Leave Mandy alone.”

“I thought her name is Mindy,” Scully replied.

“Is it?” asked Tom, a confused expression on his face.

Frank and Mike chuckled while the women rolled their eyes.

He shrugged at them before turning his attention on Anna and Kim. “So when were you going to tell me about the baby, huh? Were you planning on waiting until after it’s born?”

Kim smiled. “Babies. We’re having twins. I guess we just wanted to wait a while. Didn’t want to jinx anything.”

“Well, third time’s a charm, I see,” Tom said. “You know, I’m still deeply hurt that you rejected my offer. Just think – my perfect DNA could’ve been inside your children right now.”

“We really don’t want to think about that,” replied Kim. “IVF is enough of a bitch without worrying about what you’d be bringing to the table.”

He managed to look affronted for a moment. “I would’ve made the best sperm donor you could’ve ever hoped for.”

Anna smirked. “I think you’re managing just fine in that regard with half the single female population in Richmond.”

“Ha. Ha. You’re hilarious.”

“Speaking of announcements,” said Frank. “Tina and I are expecting.”

His wife smiled. “The baby’s due in August.”

The others expressed their congratulations as Mike’s eyes widened. “August? When’d you get pregnant? Last night?”

During this whole exchange, Scully had stiffened, her mouth going dry. She felt like she’d been kicked in the gut. The other residents and their significant others continued their friendly banter, but she was no longer paying close attention to what they said. An indescribable sinking feeling came over her and their voices all blended together into an indecipherable buzz. Soon after, a large hand gently enclosed around her elbow and an Irish brogue spoke into her ear.

“Let’s get you another drink.”

Without bothering to protest, she let Tom steer her away from the group and towards the bar. Scully then found herself standing with him in one of the lines of people waiting to be served. A member of the wait staff who was clad in a white tuxedo shirt, black bowtie, and black slacks with black shoes walked by and took the empty wine glass from her hand.

Tom eyed her for a moment. “So what was that back there?”

“What?”

“Dana, you look like your dog died.”

Scully sighed. “I’m fine.” She then shifted the focus of the conversation away from herself. “And where’s your date? Won’t Mindy be looking for you?”

Shrugging, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “She probably got lost trying to find the bathroom. Or distracted by something shiny.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes.

“I think I know what your problem is,” Tom said.

“Oh yeah?” She gave him a challenging look.

He nodded. “Yeah. You’re here alone. You clearly aren’t married. Or dating. I doubt even casually. And you probably don’t have children. And here you are, embarking on a seven-year residency at a time in your life when you should be concentrating on having a family. Maybe you feel like time is running out. And you see these happy couples with their babies, managing fulfilling home lives with a demanding, yet rewarding career in medicine. And maybe you feel like you’re missing out on something and wonder if that is a life that you’ll ever be able to have.”

Scully heaved a sigh, refusing to look at him. She didn’t want to be having this kind of conversation with anyone, and certainly not Tom Ryan of all people.

“It’s bullshit.”

She turned her head sharply. “What?”

He pursed his lips. “It’s all bullshit. Half the people in this room are divorced, and are on their second or third marriage. The other half are probably on their way to getting divorced. Everyone in the neurology department has been divorced at least once. Those happily married first years you’re becoming muckers with? There’s about a 99% chance they’ll all split up. If those wives are smart, hopefully they won’t file for divorce until after their husbands have been practicing for a few years so they can really take them to the cleaners. Neurosurgery and marriage don’t mix. Your spouse, your kids, will always come second. The job comes first. Your patients will come first. Always. And that’s especially true in pediatrics. You’ll be spending at least 100 hours a week as a practicing neurosurgeon. Relationships inevitably fall apart.”

She looked away from him and stepped closer to the bar as patrons who’d been served walked away. She had no idea what to say to his statements.

He also moved closer to the bar and then continued. “Neurosurgeons are married to the job. They’re in love with the job. Nothing will ever be more important, and they’re okay with that. It’s their loved ones who can’t deal with it. So it’s better you accept that now before getting yourself involved in some relationship, getting married, and then going through the hell of divorce just a few years later. Spare yourself the grief. Your heart will be devoted to the job, to the children in your care. Your interests, your social life will revolve around the job. Neurosurgeons eat, sleep, and breathe neurosurgery, and they love it. Don’t fuss over getting a husband and having babies like those fools back there. You’ll never have the time or energy to give a real relationship the attention it needs. You’ll only end up sacrificing it to the altar of neurosurgery. So my advice for you? Buy yourself a fancy house, drive expensive cars, get laid when you have the time, and leave it at that.”

Once again, Scully’s insides churned with guilt as she thought of Mulder sitting at home alone, abandoned for the sake of a party that she had believed was important to attend. More important than spending time with him. And why? For the job, for the career she was trying to build for herself. She was trying her best to keep her expression neutral even though Tom’s words burned in her ears.

“Ma’am?”

Scully looked up and saw one of the bartenders looking at her. She cleared her throat. “Um… I’ll have a glass of Riesling.”

He nodded. “Sweet or dry?”

“Sweet.”

“And you, sir?”

Tom turned his attention away from her and to the bartender. “A pint of Guinness.”

Once they were given their drinks, Scully made the excuse of using the ladies’ room to get away from Tom Ryan and his brutal realism. As she walked through the Empire Room, she caught the eye of Dr. MacDonald on the other side of the room. He gave her a pleased nod before his attention was called away by a middle-aged woman in a black dress, Stephanie Chen, one of the attending surgeons in the adult neurology unit. She only knew her by sight, never having spoken to her.

Once she entered the ladies’ room, two chattering women walked out, leaving her alone. Scully breathed a sigh of relief. A battle of wills raged inside. A part of her mind protested and grumbled at having to show her face at the party, to make small talk in forced social situations. A part of her knew that it was important for her to be there to prove that she fit in with the residency program; that she could be counted on, that she was someone who would adhere to the hospital’s traditions.

Being there without Mulder only made it harder. She was in a room surrounded by people, but she still felt alone. She wished he could be there with her. Scully imagined how different it would’ve been to walk into the banquet room with him by her side, to introduce him to her fellow residents. Maybe his easy manner, good looks, and quick wit would’ve made him a popular addition to the crowd. Or perhaps his sharp intelligence would’ve baffled them into awkward silence, uncertain how to match him. She was sure he would’ve charmed most of them, regardless. She couldn’t help but feel regret at knowing just how much more she would have enjoyed herself at this party had she been spending the evening with Mulder at her side.

But he wasn’t there, and she was forced to keep a huge part of herself a secret from her superiors, her peers. Was this really how things would be for the rest of her life? And what of those things that Tom Ryan had said to her? Was it really inevitable that her career would completely take over her life, forcing everything else out? Could she live like that? Could Mulder live like that? Always coming second? Always brushed aside for the sake of what had become a more important commitment?

Scully walked out of the bathroom, lost in thought, and instantly heard the music coming from the Empire Room across the hallway. Then Cala approached wearing that sleeveless, cobalt blue knee-length dress, bringing her out of her reverie. The two women smiled at one another.

“So that’s where you were hiding,” said Cala.

“Are people looking for me?” Scully asked.

She shook her head. “No, not really. There’s like 250 people in there. It’s impossible to keep track of everyone. Did Big Mac see that you were here?”

Scully nodded in the affirmative.

“Good.” Cala then started laughing. “We saw Dr. Burke walking in our direction, so we hauled ass to the other side of the room and hid behind one of the columns. Christ, we’re ridiculous.”

She smiled. “So how’s Tyler enjoying the party?”

“He found some guys who were talking about sports and so he’s thrilled now,” she replied. “There’s only so much surgical talk he can stand.” Cala then chewed on her bottom lip, hesitating. “Uh… Dana, do you mind if I ask you a personal question? Or, well… your opinion about something personal?”

She had no idea what this could be about. “Um… sure.”

Sighing, Cala leaned against the wall. “Tyler wants to get married. But I don’t know. I’ve got six and a half more years of residency in front of me, with hellish hours and a demanding schedule. I’ve tried to explain this to him, but it’s like nothing fazes him. He gave up a lot to leave Detroit and follow me to South Carolina, to support me through four years of medical school, and then to come here. So how can I not commit to him? But this could end up being a total disaster. Right?”

Scully wondered if Tom had been filling Cala’s head, too. “Do you want to be with Tyler?”

She paused, swallowing. “I love him, I do. But… maybe part of me has always held back in some way, preparing myself for things not to work out. What man would want his wife to work a hundred hours a week? What if he changes his mind and decides he wants children? How the hell am I gonna find the time to have a baby? And then who’s going to raise it? It can’t be me because I’ll be at the hospital at least 12 hours a day. A nanny. A fucking nanny would raise my kids. And what man could ultimately love a woman, stay with a woman, who can’t or won’t ever have his children? I’ve explained all this to Tyler so many times, but I can’t seem to convince him that a life with me would just make him unhappy in the long run.” She laughed, and then pushed herself off the wall. “I’m trying to talk an amazing man into believing that I’m terrible for him. That sounds crazy, right? I’m crazy.”

Scully gave her a half smile and started walking with her back into the Empire Room. Guests were still actively mingling and participating in enthusiastic conversations, cocktails or plates of finger foods in their hands. The DJ was still spinning records, and she could hear Bob Seger start to sing.

“So what do you think?” the young resident asked nervously.

“Are you in love with Tyler, Cala?”

She turned and looked at her earnestly. Her voice choked with emotion. “I love him. I really do. More than anything. But the both of us could just end up very hurt. I guess I’m trying to avoid that.”

Scully nodded, and stood listening to the music for several moments. A feeling of confidence and determination rose up inside her. “Falling in love is like jumping off a cliff. Your head frantically warns you, tells you it’s not a good idea; tells you to take steps back from the edge, to stay where it’s safe. But your heart… your heart tells you that you can fly. At one point in my life, I spent too many years listening to my head and ignoring my heart.” She then turned to look at Cala, and their eyes met in a steady gaze. “So my advice? Jump.”

A huge smile slowly spread across Cala’s face and her eyes became wet. She then stepped forward, pulling Scully into a quick hug. “Thank you,” she whispered. She then turned and hurriedly made her way further into the banquet room, in search of her boyfriend.

The music still in her ears, Scully turned on her heel and walked out of the Empire Room. In the lobby, she retrieved her coat from the check room attendant. As she tied the black sash around her waist, Tom Ryan suddenly appeared.

“You’re leaving already?”

She sighed. “Yes, I’m leaving.”

He furrowed his brows. “It’s not even nine o’clock.”

Scully pulled the valet ticket from her black clutch and then looked up at the blue-eyed Irishman. “I know. But someone is waiting for me.” She then walked away through the lobby and out the main entrance doors, before handing the ticket over to the curbside attendant.

Twenty-five minutes later, she was pulling up to her house. The light was on over the front porch as well as a few lights inside. She shut off the engine and stepped out of the car, a wave of relief washing over her. She was home. As she walked up the porch steps, the front door opened, and there he was in his blue jeans and Knicks sweatshirt. She smiled, and her heart swelled at the sight of him.

Mulder gazed at her as she moved across the porch towards where he stood in the doorway, feeling pleasantly surprised. He’d expected her home much later. He grinned at her. “Miss me?”

She quickly closed the distance between them. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she pressed herself against his solid warmth. She looked up at the beautiful green eyes in which she saw her entire future. Scully sighed contentedly. “I always miss you.”

Mulder smiled down at her. His arms went around her back, tightening around her. It never ceased to amaze him how good it felt to hold her, how feelings of wholeness swept through him whenever she was near. It didn’t matter where he was or what he was doing, he’d never be able to live a fulfilled life if she wasn’t in it.

“So. Are we just going to stand here in the doorway all nigh–”

His lips crashed against hers, not able to wait another minute before kissing her. With the gentle nudge of his tongue, Mulder beckoned Scully to open for him. Her hands slid up his back as her lips parted. They moved inside the house, his tongue gliding against hers, before they shut and locked the door behind them.


	148. "I know we said that we weren't going to exchange gifts but, uh... I got you... a little something."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully finds a forgotten Christmas present she had bought for Mulder.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pussycat Dolls - "Stickwitu"
> 
> I don't want to go another day  
> So I'm telling you exactly what is on my mind  
> Seems like everybody's breaking up  
> And throwing their love away  
> But I know I got a good thing right here  
> That's why I say (hey)
> 
> Nobody gonna love me better, I'ma stick wit you forever  
> Nobody gonna take me higher, I'ma stick wit you  
> You know how to appreciate me, I'ma stick wit you, my baby  
> Nobody ever made me feel this way, I'ma stick wit you
> 
> I don't want to go another day  
> So I'm telling you exactly what is on my mind  
> See the way we ride in our private lives  
> Ain't nobody gettin' in between  
> I want you to know that you're the only one for me
> 
> Nobody gonna love me better, I'ma stick wit you forever  
> Nobody gonna take me higher, I'ma stick wit you  
> You know how to appreciate me, I'ma stick wit you, my baby  
> Nobody ever made me feel this way, I'ma stick wit you
> 
> And now, ain't nothing else I could need  
> And now, I'm singing 'cause your so, so into me  
> I got you, we'll be making love endlessly  
> I'm with you, baby you're with me
> 
> So don't ya worry about  
> People hanging around  
> They ain't bringing us down  
> I know you, and you know me  
> And that's all that counts  
> So don't ya worry about  
> People hanging around  
> They ain't bringing us down  
> I know you, and you know me  
> And that's, that's why I say
> 
> Nobody gonna love me better, I'ma stick wit you forever  
> Nobody gonna take me higher, I'ma stick wit you  
> You know how to appreciate me, I'ma stick wit you, my baby  
> Nobody ever made me feel this way, I'ma stick wit you

Their front door shut and locked, Mulder and Scully stood inside kissing for several moments. His lips were firm and warm, and so gentle on hers. Her tongue softly caressed his own as his arms tightened around her. Tremors of warmth ran through them, feelings of contentment filling their hearts. Whenever they kissed, they felt truly happy, like they were the only two people in the world, and their hearts raced.

Their lips parted and she gazed up at him. He was smiling down at her, but his smile wasn’t reaching his eyes. There was something behind them that suddenly made her feel sad. She thought she almost saw sorrow in his gaze. “You didn’t have a good day today, did you?” she said quietly, her hands moving down from around his shoulders to caress his arms.

He opened his mouth to reply, but quickly closed it. He wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t want to tell her about how lonely he was, and how memories of William had suddenly risen up to suffocate him earlier. He didn’t want to tell her about the tears that had streamed down his face as he’d split the firewood, didn’t want to tell her about breaking down at the kitchen table. He didn’t want to tell her that the empty bedroom down the hall upstairs had now started to taunt him, to silently accuse him, reminding him of the terrible mistakes he’d made. He didn’t want to tell her that his loneliness was suddenly now becoming a painful reminder that if not for the choices he’d made in the past, there would’ve been someone else living in their house with them. That even though unable to work, his days could’ve had real purpose and meaning. That despite being homebound and separated from her for most of the day, his time could have been filled with someone he loved, with someone who loved him.

Mulder didn’t want to ever tell Scully those things. “I just missed you. So, things were pretty blah around here.” He sighed, slightly shrugging his shoulders.

She looked up at him sadly. “It must be hard for you to be stuck in this house while I’m working. Our circumstances are not fair, I know. But I still want you to enjoy life as much as possible, even if that life has to be contained within these walls. It’s why I got the new entertainment center and the big TV and… the desk.”

He smiled down at her. “I know. And I believe you witnessed me enjoying the stereo system earlier.”

“Is that what you do when I’m not around?” she smirked, remembering Prince blaring through the house and Mulder singing along as he made the bed. “I’m picturing a Tom-Cruise-in- _Risky-Business_ scenario.”

“Minus the tighty-whities. And the prostitutes.”

She laughed, stepping back and turning towards the coat rack. She shrugged off her black jacket and hung it up. She took a deep breath and turned back to look at him. “I need to get out of this dress. I’m gonna go change.” She glanced at the television screen. A basketball game was on. “Find something good on the TV.”

Mulder nodded, grinning, and watched her walk up the stairs. He turned back towards the couch, picking up the remote from the coffee table as he sat down.

Opening her closet door, Scully hung up the gray lace pencil dress. She walked over to her dresser, removed all her undergarments, tossing them into the dark blue woven clothes hamper. Pulling open the second drawer, she pulled out her blue plaid flannel pajama top with matching shorts. After fastening the buttons, she stepped over to close the closet door. She looked up at the ragdoll for a moment, considering its connection to Mulder and the hopes they’d once had.

While she had revived her career in medicine, his goals and aspirations had come to a screeching halt. She didn’t want him to be overcome with regret, or for this new settled, restricted existence to stifle him. She didn’t want him to be bored or to become dissatisfied with their life together. She wanted him to find fulfillment and gratification, even in the little things. She still wanted to surprise him from time to time, to keep him guessing. Even though they now had to spend long stretches of time apart, she wanted the time they spent together to be meaningful and enjoyable, to strengthen their bond. Her relationship with Mulder, her commitment to him, was not something she was ever going to ‘sacrifice to the altar of neurosurgery.’

But she admitted to herself that a lot of the time they spent in each other’s company lately had meant burying herself in medical textbooks and zoning out everything else, including him. She wanted to make it up to him somehow. She could buy him things to keep him as entertained as possible at home, but she knew that none of those things really compared to her company. As complex as Mulder was, the pleasures he wanted from life were fairly simple. He liked music, good food, and he loved sports, he loved learning.

And he loved her. He loved making her happy, he loved pleasing her, he loved making her laugh. He loved kissing her, he loved holding her, and he loved touching her. Scully smiled to herself, and then noticed her black heels lying where she’d kicked them off. She reached down and picked them up, before turning back to the closet and placing them on the floor inside. Her eyes suddenly widened as they fell on a small gift-wrapped package in the back corner behind her shoes, remembering the impulsive gift she’d gotten over a month ago. She’d completely forgotten about it.

She had been riding the high of her acceptance into Our Lady of Sorrows’ residency program, she’d found this house and struck a deal with the owner, and she’d wanted to do something fun for Mulder. There was a shop two blocks from the hospital, and one evening on her way back to the motel where they’d been staying, she made a spur-of-the-moment decision. After pulling over and parking next to the curb, she got out and made her way inside the shop. She’d found what she was looking for as quickly as possible, and then left. She remembered having decided to wait until Christmas to give it to him, and wrapping it when in the hospital parking lot one early morning.

Scully reached to pick up the small gift-wrapped package, holding it in her palms. Her heart started racing with excitement, and her stomach started filling with nerves, like butterflies trapped in a glass jar. Shutting the closet door, she walked over and placed the gift in the top drawer of her dresser, before walking out of the bedroom and heading back downstairs.

Mulder turned his head from the television, hearing the familiar creak of the wooden stairs, and watched her as she made her descent. A smile spread across his face as he took in her casual appearance. The dress and high heels were gone, the jewelry and the makeup. She was just as beautiful, if not more so, in this state than when she left the house earlier to attend that party.

“Shorts?” he said, raising his eyebrows at her as she sat down next to him. “It’s gonna drop down into the 30’s tonight, you know.”

“Oh well,” she shrugged. She’d paid no attention to the weather forecast. “If I get cold, you’ll keep me warm.”

He smirked at her, and her eyes twinkled back at him. She turned her head to look at the television screen, her stomach still doing somersaults. _Dateline_ was on. They sat watching together for a few minutes, but her mind kept drifting to the package in her dresser. Christmas was just a few days away. She could wait until then. But she played with her fingers, chewed her bottom lip, and starting bouncing her leg up and down.

Mulder could feel her nervous energy, and it soon distracted him from the television program. “Why are you so fidgety?”

Scully immediately stilled her leg. “Um… I don’t know.” She averted her eyes from his, feeling her face start to redden.

“So… how many guys hit on you at that party?”

“None.” She eyed him pointedly.

He gave her a skeptical look. “Come on. In that dress?”

She smiled. “You liked it?”

“Let’s stay on topic,” he replied. “None of those doctors hit on you? Or even flirted with you?”

“No. Not a single one.”

Pursing his lips, he nodded. “And, uh, when you’re at work... Uh, nobody…”

She sighed. “No, Mulder. Not once. Besides, most of them are married.”

He pursed his lips again.

“Don’t say it.” She arched an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t gonna say a word,” he replied innocently.

Scully smirked at him. “Good. I don’t think you want us comparing our previous romantic partners.”

Mulder cringed as flashes of memory came to mind, women’s faces, and then shot an affronted look in her direction. “Are you trying to ruin my Friday night?”

She laughed, and again her stomach filled with butterflies.

He gave her a suspicious look. He could still sense the nervous energy emanating from her, and he didn’t understand it. As they continued sitting together on the couch, watching TV, from time to time he would catch her looking at him, licking her lips, and then her eyes would dart back to the television. Sex? Was that what she wanted? But why wouldn’t she just say so? Why the nervous behavior? He decided he wasn't going to question, or initiate anything. He was gonna enjoy watching her make herself crazy.

Sitting next to Mulder, thinking about what was upstairs, made her unable to concentrate on the TV. She had no idea what the people on the screen were talking about. She really did want to wait for Christmas. But maybe he’d like getting an early present. But maybe it was best to save it for a few days, for a special occasion. But then again, he wasn’t really one for conventional traditions. She certainly didn’t think she’d gotten a conventional Christmas gift. She could feel herself grow warm, her inner muscles clench. She glanced at Mulder, her eyes roaming him up and down as she licked her lips.

He turned to stare at her, his eyebrows rising. He smirked. What was up with her? Her perusal was starting to turn him on, starting to send his hormones into heart-pounding overdrive. His groin tightened. She saw his pupils dilate, and she chewed her lip. Images flooded his mind, and he saw her naked, moaning, under his hands, under his mouth, under his body, burying himself inside her.

Scully blushed and shifted uncomfortably, becoming increasingly aware of her growing arousal. They gazed at each other, seemingly waiting for the other to make the first move. The clock struck 10:00, and _Dateline_ went off the air. She reached for the remote between them and shut off the television. Blood pumped through Mulder’s veins as he watched her. Their connection thumped between them, the intensity growing as they made eye contact. Her gaze drifted, and she noticed the pronounced bulge in his jeans.

Without a word, she moved off the couch, dropping to her knees in front of him, her palms spreading his legs slightly apart. “I want to give you something,” she said.

Oh, God. He started breathing heavily as she slid her hands up his thighs to the waistband of his jeans, undoing the button and taking the zipper down. He quickly lifted his Knicks sweatshirt up and off his head, tossing it to the other side of the couch. Her hands slid into the open waistband, gripping it along with his black boxer briefs, and tugged down just enough to release his thick, heavy shaft. She moved up over his lap and curled her fingers around the base of his cock. Her lips closed over the head, and his whole body tensed, anticipating the wet heat.

Scully gave him a wicked look, and then circled the head with her tongue, licking along the shaft down to his balls, then back up to the head, as he became harder and harder. She squeezed him tighter and then closed her mouth around him, wetting his shaft with her tongue as she went down until her lips met her fist, then drew back up.

Mulder groaned, and his hips lifted slightly off the couch. She knew exactly how he liked it; she knew exactly which buttons to push. She started going deeper, faster. Her mouth tightened as she sucked forcefully. Pulling back from him, she slowly circled her tongue around the sensitive head and then took him deep inside her mouth so fast that his eyes rolled back. She worked her free hand past his jeans to gently fondle his balls in her warm palm.

“Oh God,” he panted as he gazed down at her. He could feel the pressure building at the base of his spine, his muscles tensing.

Heat spread through her nerves to pool in her cunt. Scully’s knees shifted apart as her body undulated with longing. The scent and taste of his skin, the sound of his groans, flooded her senses. His control was starting to fray. His hands went into her hair, holding it back from her face, gripping tight but not too hard. With a moan that vibrated around his cock, she took him deeper until he hit the back of her throat.

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned.

Mulder’s leg muscles tightened as he struggled for control. He watched her lips trail up and down his shaft. Hot, wet, the suction an unbelievable sensation. He was going to come. No, no, no. His hands went to her shoulders and moved her back. Scully looked up into his darkened green eyes. Hot, male desire contorted his beautiful features; his thick cock throbbed in her hand.

“What’s the matter?”

He hadn’t really wanted to stop her. He desperately wanted to pull her head back down on his cock, to pump himself in and out of her soft, wet mouth until he exploded. But that would be too quick. He wanted to relish these times together, wanted them to last as long as possible.

“If you keep going, it’ll be over for me,” he breathed. “I don’t want it to be over so soon.”

She grinned, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “It won’t be. I promise.” She licked her lips. “Do you want to come, Mulder?”

He panted. “Yes.”

“Do you want to come in my mouth?”

His brows furrowed, his face grimaced with desire. “Jesus, Scully.”

She started gliding her hand up and down his shaft. A pearly drop had formed at the tip. She bent forward, licking it away from the head.

“Fuck,” he gasped.

She quickly closed her mouth over him again. She wanted more, wanted to take him as deep as she could. The head of his cock brushed against the back of her throat. His groans filled her ears and she sucked harder. She glanced up at him and met his gaze. His eyes grew darker, and his face flushed with a look of such ecstasy it made her center throb with pleasure at giving that to him. Loud groans escaped his throat as he came, pulsing into her mouth. He gently held her head and watched her as she swallowed his release, her clit throbbing as her throat worked around him.

Mulder’s head fell back against the couch as he panted. “Scully… that was…” he breathed huskily, unable to finish the sentence.

She smiled, and released her hold on his softening erection, caressing him there a few times. She then placed her palms on his thighs and pushed herself up off the floor, relieving her knees. Her center was hot and swollen, her inner thighs slick. She was so wet she could hardly stand up. She looked down at where he sat on the couch, his breathing returning to normal. He reached for the waistband of his boxers and jeans, pulling them up around his hips. He gazed up at her with heavy lids, his expression full of contentment.

Scully chewed her bottom lip, thinking of her desperate need, still trying to decide what to do about that gift-wrapped package in her dresser drawer. She wasn’t sure she could wait until Christmas. “You tired? We could head upstairs.”

He watched her rub her thighs together, and smirked. “We can go upstairs. But not to sleep.” He inched closer to the edge of the couch cushion, his hands reaching out toward her. He stroked the soft skin of her thighs, the backs of her knees, as he looked up at her. Masculine appreciation rid the exhaustion from his eyes. “I think you said something about this not being over.”

Her heart pounded, her stomach tightened with the fluttering of nerves. She took hold of his hand and gently pulled. He pushed off the couch, and after all the lights were turned off downstairs, he allowed himself to be led up the staircase. They walked inside their darkened bedroom and Scully went around to her side of the bed, turning on the lamp. She nervously played with her fingers.

“I, um, wanted to give you something else,” she said, moving across the room to her dresser.

“What?” He looked at her curiously.

Licking her lips, she pulled open her drawer and took out the small package. “It’s an early Christmas present.”

Mulder chuckled, taking the gift from her outstretched hand. “But I didn’t get you anything.”

She waved that statement off. “I didn’t expect you to. It’s not like you can go shopping.”

He gave her a half smile, and then tore open the shiny red wrapping paper. Scully’s heart pounded, her stomach fluttering fiercely. The wrapping paper fell to the floor and his eyes widened at what was in his hands. He opened the package and removed a thin vibrator. It was teal blue plastic, about six inches long, with curves, and waterproof.

He looked up and their eyes met. He could see apprehension in her expression. He grinned. “So… this is one of those things where you say it’s a gift for me, but it’s really for you?”

Scully chuckled nervously. “No… it’s for you. It’s… a present for both of us.”

A smile spread across his face and then he burst out laughing, wrapping his arms around her.

“What’s so funny?” Maybe she shouldn’t have gotten it. She was starting to feel silly.

He gazed down at her lovingly, still chuckling. “Do you remember that day back at your old apartment? When you were standing on that chair trying to reach something on the top shelf in the hall closet? And that pink vibrator fell out on the floor?” Mulder now laughed even harder. “The look on your face!”

She rolled her eyes, averting them, feeling herself blush. She remembered, but the memory seemed far away. “It was so embarrassing.”

His arms tightened around her and her eyes once again met his. How different she was now compared to how she had been back then, how much more trusting and open to him she was, more confident and secure with herself. “But, if you remember, we did have some fun with it. You know… you didn’t take it with you when you left Georgetown behind, and that was unfortunate.”

“I’m sorry that when I heard you’d been issued the death penalty and I was rushing to pack before leaving to bust you out of prison, I didn’t think, ‘I better grab the vibrator.’”

Mulder burst out laughing again, and leaning down, his lips crashed passionately on hers. Her arms went around his waist as he chuckled against her lips, her hands caressing the bare skin of his back. He then broke the kiss, and brushed his nose with hers. “I say we try this new one out. Since you went through the trouble to get it and all.”

Scully blushed further, her heart raced, her inner muscles clenched. He loosened his hold on her, his hand going to her flannel pajama top, deft fingers slowly undoing each button. The pajama top then lying on the floor, he cupped her breast, relishing the feel in his palm. Her breasts grew heavy with arousal, her nipples tightening as he worked over them.

He moved them to the side of the bed, and she sat down on the mattress. He then gently coaxed her to lie down. He hovered over her, leaning on one forearm, and continued to softly caress her breasts. He ran his thumb back and forth across a hardened nipple until her eyes closed, before applying his tongue to the tip, and then the edge of his teeth as her need for sensation grew. Her nails dug demandingly into his shoulders and she arched off the mattress, her hips straining towards him, seeking some relief from the unbearable ache at her center.

Mulder chuckled and shifted lower. He pulled her until her bottom rested close to the edge of the mattress. Moving to sit on his knees next to the bed, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the blue flannel shorts and pulled them down and off her legs. The breadth of his chest and shoulders then splayed her knees. He felt every part of his body start to respond to the scent of her arousal. Just the scent of her was enough to get him hard.

Scully’s mind filled with wanton lust and she spread her legs wider, desperate for some relief. Her clit throbbed; her groin was hot and wet. She sat up on her elbows and watched him, breathing heavily with anticipation. Mulder smirked at her, his gaze full of desire, and then bent his head. His lips touched the place just below her mound, where her folds started. It was too far from where she wanted his mouth, yet she groaned at the way her center tightened, swelled. His tongue delved into her juicy folds, taking his time. He teased her clit, his tongue firm, hot, and wet. She tried to lift her hips to get him closer to her swollen bundle of nerves, but he held her pelvis down with one arm.

With his tongue, Mulder delicately traced circles around her entrance, tasting the desire flowing from her core, until her hands fisted. His eyes never left her face, intently watching her reaction to everything he was doing. He smiled slightly, and then licked upward from her entrance and over her sensitive bundle of nerves, his hands tightening on her hips as she jerked upwards. He knew her taste. It was inside him. He knew there wasn’t anything like having his mouth on a woman, and nothing could ever be as sweet, as consuming, as Scully.

She panted and moved against his mouth. God, with every touch of his tongue her clit swelled, tight and hot. She needed more, she needed him inside her; she desperately needed to come. Mulder felt her body tense, and then worked his tongue around her clit until she was writhing and gasping, whimpering as her body strained towards a release. With a firm stroke of his tongue against her swollen clit, the tension finally broke, and he sent her flying into a breathless orgasm, blessed oblivion filling her mind.

Mulder sat back, gazing at her with self-satisfaction. “You’re not done, are you?”

Her breathing slowly returning to normal, she watched him reach for the teal blue toy lying on the end of the bed. Her inner muscles clenched and she whimpered, falling back against the mattress. Her hands moved over the fresh, white sheets that he had put on the bed earlier. Opening the small drawer in his bedside table, he took out two AAA batteries and fitted them into the base of the vibrator. Scully stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily with anticipation as he moved back towards her.

He then got her to slide further back on the mattress until her head lay on a pillow, and he joined her on the bed. Lying on his stomach, propped up on one forearm, he spread her legs further apart. And then Scully heard an unmistakable buzzing sound. Her body tensed, perhaps with sense memory at the sensations she knew she was going to experience.

Then Mulder slowly pushed the toy through her wet, swollen folds. Long and thin, it vibrated within her, ratcheting up her arousal. He then angled the curved tip upwards, making precise contact to that sensitive area in her front wall.

“Oh God,” Scully moaned, the intense buzzing hitting her core at exactly the right place. “Oh God, yes.” It felt as if her nerves had expanded inwards, the powerful vibrations hitting her clit from the inside. Her hands fisted the sheets as her need catapulted into desperate urgency.

“Yeah, that’s the right spot,” he murmured, his voice husky with arousal.

She whimpered at his words, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. She clenched and moaned, tilting her hips up off the mattress until his forearm moved to pin her down. The tension reached a boiling point, her breath coming in continuous mewling pants. The slow rocking and deep vibrations drove her upward towards a peak she was desperate to reach.

And then Mulder brought his other hand down toward her center. His fingers gathered some of her wetness flowing from her pulsating center, and began to rub circles over her throbbing clit. Each stroke of his fingers coincided with his pushing the vibrator onto that spot inside. Her hips strained against his arm as every muscle in her body tensed, and she teetered on the brink, almost unable to breathe. He tightened the circles he made over her swollen bundle of nerves, and then her senses exploded into engulfing ecstasy, her mind emptying of all thought except for the overwhelming sensations she was feeling.

Scully’s cries of pleasure filled Mulder’s ears, her orgasm flowed hot and wet from her center, making him believe that this might be the best Christmas present he’d ever gotten. He removed the vibrator from her pulsating core. It was soaked. Her groin was soaked. The sheets were soaked. He didn’t care that he’d have to change them again later. It was worth it.

Then Scully’s body finally went limp, no longer undulating with orgasmic waves, and her eyes focused again. Her heart still pounded in her chest. She licked her lips and sighed. “That was… amazing.”

“Mmm, that was fun.” Mulder placed the toy on his bedside table and ran his hands over her thighs before kissing each one. “You have such soft skin,” he said quietly.

She sat up and reached for him, pulling him towards her. “We’re not done.”

He chuckled as he hovered over her. “You haven’t had enough, huh?”

Her hands going to his hips and pushing down the open waistband of his jeans, she shook her head. “I want you.”

Mulder’s jeans, boxers, and socks were soon lying in a pile by the bed. He settled his hips between Scully’s thighs and pushed his hardness inside her soft cunt. They both gasped, both feeling the exquisite sensations. She was so hot and wet, her legs wrapping around him, holding him tight against her. She felt him filling her, her inner walls stretching to take him. His hard stomach pressed against her soft belly. His chest brushed against her nipples. They thrilled at the electricity that ran through them.

She arched closer and he bent his head, his tongue laving over her taut nipples, sucking them while she moaned beneath him. He pushed deeper into her, giving her more of him. It was an unbelievable sensation, entering her; sex with her was always incredible. Because this wasn’t just sex. He knew sex. He knew every sensation, the mechanics of every act. This was more than that. Between them, it had always been more than that.

Stilling after the first thrust, he held himself immobile, trying to catch his breath. He wanted a minute just to hold her, just to fill her up and fill himself with her softness and her scent. Scully’s hands were all over him, and he was deep inside her, but she still didn’t feel like he was close enough.

“Mulder,” she gasped, and it was said almost like an oath.

He loved hearing his name when he was inside her. Lifting his head, he looked into her eyes. Their gaze held. Whenever their eyes met in these moments, passion rose between them, love grew in their hearts. He lowered his gaze. Scully was just one creamy curve after another, from her silky throat all the way to the legs that were locked around the small of his back. Mulder adjusted her, slightly lifting her to displace her long red hair trapped beneath them. He needed to taste her again, and then lowered his head, taking her breast in his mouth, sucking on a hardened nipple.

“Mulder, oh God,” she whispered in a soft, shuddering sigh, moving her hips against him, telling him she needed more.

He also felt it, the heat building between them, time dragging out, the tension coiling tighter. He thrust once more and she moaned. Scully kissed his neck and throat, her hands sliding over him as if she was re-learning every muscle. She moved her hands down his back and curled them around his ass, pressing him against her. Unlike those early days that he had just referenced not long before, when they first transitioned to a physical relationship, she was no longer shy about expressing how she felt or what she wanted. “You feel so good,” she whimpered.

His features contorted with pleasure as he looked down at her, almost looking pained. Her words moved him right down to his core, hard and deep. The intensity of Mulder’s love and desire for her made him shake. Scully’s heart swelled as she gazed up at him, and the throb at her center made her feel desperate. She lifted her hips up off the mattress to meet his, her inner walls clenching around him. He took one long, slow thrust at a time, until his thrusts became increasingly faster.

She was soon panting her breath in his ear, running her teeth along his jaw and down his neck, clasping and kneading his flesh, and Mulder was lost in her. He moved his mouth to hers, kissing her passionately, and she opened for him, her tongue sliding against his, her hips arching into his, trying to get as close to him as she could. Scully moved beneath him, twisting her hips, dragging her fingers across his back, her soft sounds so exquisite to his ears.

Mulder caught his breath, wanting to hold onto this closeness as long as he could, wanting it to last as long as possible. She was so tight and sweet and hot, and so wet for him. His blood was rushing, her response taking him deeper and making it hotter. His thrusts became deeper, harder. Scully felt another orgasm building, as each thrust of his body brushed against her swollen clit. That coupled with the feeling of his thick shaft deep inside was about to send her over the edge.

He wanted to drive her over, saw her squeeze her eyes shut, could feel her body tensing. “Come on, Scully. Give it to me,” he whispered.

She whimpered, her muscles tightening in response. “Wait,” she then said suddenly, opening her eyes.

He halted mid-stroke and felt his cock throb in protest. “What’s wrong?” He started to withdraw from her body.

She shook her head, her heels going to his ass, pressing him back against her. “Don’t move.” Scully reached with her left hand over to his bedside table, grabbing the teal blue toy. His eyes widened as he watched her bring it down between them. Their eyes met and held in an intense gaze, and then a buzzing sound was heard.

Immediately after that, Mulder felt a vibration around his cock. He hadn’t thought it possible, but he felt himself become harder. He could feel the powerful buzzing sensation in his balls as he continued to fuck her. Scully held the toy half against her clit and half at her cunt. He felt every vibration, felt every twitch as her body responded to it. He was going to last about two minutes longer, if that.

Her entire body was humming, straining towards her impending release. Her breath started coming in pants as he thrust into her, fast and deep. Scully closed her eyes, focusing on the vibration at her clit and Mulder’s hard cock throbbing against her sensitive flesh, the pleasure building to an intense crescendo. The tension became too much to bear, and then it suddenly burst.

“Oh, my God! Mulder!”

“Fuck, I can feel you coming…”

Scully’s orgasm was explosive, more so than the previous ones, the feeling even more intense than what she had experienced with the vibrator alone. Mulder was losing it. And then it was over, he was following her over the edge, his body going rigid with the sudden, powerful rush of his own orgasmic release. He made deep, guttural moans as her body convulsed beneath him, his hot seed emptying inside her in long, copious spurts. The feeling sent another wave of climax through her, her inner walls hungrily clenching around his throbbing cock as she again cried out his name. He moaned her name in return. Her pleasure milking him, the pulsating heat of it, the sweet ecstasy coursing through her. She held a death grip on him, her heels again pressing into his ass, forcing him deeper and deeper, strong vibrations rocking their joined center, until he thought he could black out from the pure, mind-blowing pleasure of it.

Mulder continued slow thrusts even after it was over, not wanting it to end. The vibrator was turned off and tossed back up on the bedside table. Then he leaned down and kissed her lips, softy, sweetly, lovingly. Scully felt tears prick the backs of her eyes, strong emotions unexpectedly rising up from somewhere deep inside her. Tom Ryan’s words of warning about neurosurgery and relationships doomed to fail came forward in her mind, as if taunting her. She fervently pushed those thoughts away. She held onto the man she loved even tighter, returned his kisses ardently, silently vowing to never let anything come between them.

Mulder finally pulled out of her, and somehow managed to land on his side of the bed. He pulled her gently against him as he turned to face her. He nuzzled her ear and said, “That was incredible.”

Scully smiled and nodded in agreement. “See? I told you the present wasn’t just for me.”

He grinned and moved his hand to her face, brushing loose strands of her hair away from her face and tucking them behind an ear. His love and desire for her was just as strong now, when that desire had been satiated, as when the throes of passion had filled him with intense longing. He’d just come, she’d made come twice that night, and he still wanted her. He worried a little that he wouldn’t ever get enough of her – and suddenly there it was again, that ghost from his former years of solitary existence, that fine edge of desperation he pushed away just as fiercely as he wanted her closer.

Sighing, he knew she’d be heading back to work in the morning, and he’d be spending another long, lonely day without her. The majority of her time was spent with others, with fellow doctors sharing the same professional interests and passions as she did. He thought of that gray dress she wore to that party at a Richmond hotel, of those who get to enjoy her company without him around. He hoped that life wouldn’t take her from him. If he reacted to the fear starting to spiral like a coiled spring, he could stand to lose something that was more irreplaceable than his own heart.

Scully lifted her hand, gently caressing his face. Mulder’s expression softened, the fear and anxiety dissipated. Their gaze held, and spoke without words.

“We’re going to be okay,” she whispered, her fingers languidly tracing along his cheek, his jaw, down to his chin.

He saw confidence in her eyes, which soothed him, and lessened his fear even more. He smiled, and leaned over to kiss her. He then pulled back and grinned, his hand moving down her back to give her smooth, firm ass a squeeze. “Anyway, shower time.”

She chuckled as they moved off the bed. “We really made a mess of the clean sheets,” she said as she stepped into the bathroom. “And you’d just put them on the bed, too.”

“Worth it.”

Mulder smiled as he shut the bathroom door behind them. Scully grinned, turning on the water, checking the temperature until it became hot enough. They then stepped into the walk-in shower, moving under the shower’s spray. Steam hissed around them, the hot water rinsing them clean.


	149. "Might we then see the endless forks in the road that have shaped a life? And, seeing those choices, choose another path?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Christmas blizzard sends Our Lady of Sorrows into crisis mode, and Scully faces a tragedy. Charlie and Bill Jr, their families, and Maggie arrive at the Unremarkable House for the holiday. Mulder and Scully find themselves coming face to face with the glaring reality of past decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depeche Mode – “Ghost”
> 
> I'm the ghost in your house  
> Calling your name  
> My memory lingers  
> You'll never be the same  
> I'm the hole in your heart  
> I'm the stain in your bed  
> The phantom in your fingers  
> The voices in your head
> 
> One touch is all it took  
> To draw you in  
> To leave you hooked  
> One kiss, you paid the price  
> You had a taste  
> Of paradise
> 
> Now you're running in circles  
> Chasing imaginary footsteps  
> Reaching for shadows  
> In the bed where I once slept
> 
> I'm the ghost in your house  
> Calling your name  
> My memory lingers  
> You'll never be the same  
> I'm the hole in your heart  
> I'm the stain in your bed  
> The phantom in your fingers  
> The voices in your head
> 
> One thought is all it takes  
> You lose control  
> You make mistakes  
> This pain will never leave  
> Until I die  
> You'll always grieve
> 
> Now you're falling to pieces  
> Seeing my face wherever you go  
> Talking to strangers  
> From a place they'll never know 
> 
> I'm the ghost in your house  
> Calling your name  
> My memory lingers  
> You'll never be the same  
> I'm the hole in your heart  
> I'm the stain in your bed  
> The phantom in your fingers  
> The voices in your head..

Early on Monday morning, December 23rd, Scully shrugged on her black coat in the dark, along with her hat and gloves, before walking toward the front door and outside into the howling blizzard. The wind whipped about as if furious and was blowing the snow so hard that it seemed to be falling horizontally instead of vertically. She opened the driver’s door of her silver Ford Taurus, got in out of the cold, and fired up the engine. She twisted to reach behind the passenger seat and grabbed the snow scraper. She opened up the door, stepped back out into the howling wind, and started scraping the snow and ice off the car windows. Once the windows were clear and the engine had warmed up some, she put the car in reverse until she was able to turn and drive straight forward to the locked gate in front of Wallis Road.

The highway was a mess and she was forced to drive well below the speed limit on her way into Richmond. Just before 6:00, after driving for nearly an hour, she finally arrived at Our Lady of Sorrows. The combination of the wind, snow, and bitterly cold air on her face caused Scully to trudge across the parking lot to the North Tower entrance as quickly as possible. With her arms wrapped tightly around her body and her head bowed, she walked almost blindly toward the hospital doors.

The security guard looked up from his crossword puzzle. “Glad you made it in, Doc. Our Lady’s gon’ be mighty understaffed today, I think. Can you believe this weather?”

Scully’s eye widened. “Have any of the other doctors come in yet, Lee?”

“In which department?” he responded, giving her a look. “I’ve seen quite a few residents come through these doors, so the second floor should be all right. Haven’t seen Dr. MacDonald, though, and it’s not like him to be so late. Susan Hathaway hasn’t shown up, and neither has Doc Lafler. Dr. Collier is here. The Duvakins are on vacation, of course. Dr. Chen and Dr. Rajpal arrived about half an hour ago, and are on the adult neurology unit. The other attendings haven’t turned up yet. Same thing with the other departments. Some doctors have turned up, some not. Talked to Joe a bit ago; he works at the south security desk. Apparently, they only got one attending physician in the emergency room right now. And only a few charge nurses have shown up so far. Same thing up on the maternity ward. But some doctors are still here who worked the overnight shift.”

She sighed. “Well, hopefully it’ll be a quiet day around here due to the storm and most people will just stay home.”

Lee nodded. “We can hope.”

Before Scully could reply, the automatic doors opened, a windy gust of snow blowing inside. Anna Harding and Tom Ryan walked through the entrance, the doors closing behind them.

“Oh, Dana, thank goodness you’re here.” Anna removed her hat and started brushing the snow off her arms and shoulders. “Big Mac can’t get out of his driveway and I guess his road is just one big snowdrift. He said we’ll have to reschedule today’s surgeries.”

With a quick nod and smile to Lee, Scully turned and walked with the other two residents toward the elevators.

Tom ran his fingers through his brown hair. “So how long did it take you to get here, Dana?”

“I spent about 60 harrowing minutes on the I-95.”

He shook his head, scoffing, eyes widening. “Where do you live?”

Stepping inside the empty elevator compartment, Scully cleared her throat. “Outside the city.” She didn’t elaborate further, her tone final.

Tom exchanged a look with Anna, who only shrugged as the doors closed. Once they were on the seventh floor, they made their way to the residents’ lounge, checking their mail boxes. The residents then parted ways, Scully and Anna heading for the women’s Doctors’ Locker Room down the hall. After dropping off their bags, and donning their white lab coats, nametags, and stethoscopes, they exited the room and walked down the hallway to the doctors’ lounge. Stepping inside the lounge, the two women were greeted by other residents who were drinking hot coffee and waiting for the 6:30 am physician instructions to be printed out.

Once Scully had retrieved the list of Dr. MacDonald’s patients and accompanying instructions from the printer, she walked with Anna back down to the cafeteria on the first floor. She selected some vanilla yogurt and granola along with a pear she grabbed from a large bowl of assorted fresh fruit. She then joined Anna and some of her other fellow residents at their regular table.

“So how was your weekend?” Mao asked Cala as Scully was taking her seat at the table.

“Oh, good. Tyler and I went to a fondue party last night.”

Frank paused with his forkful of scrambled eggs in midair. “What in the Sam Hill is a fundoo party?”

Scully smiled. “They don’t have fondue parties in Wyoming?”

“I don’t even know what it is,” he replied, before taking a bite of his eggs.

“It’s a party where everyone fondles everyone else,” Tom quipped as he took a seat across the table from Scully.

She rolled her eyes, fighting a grin. Anna shook her head, smirking.

Cala smirked and then turned towards Frank. “Fondue is a kind of melted cheese. A fondue party is where people get together to… taste it.”

Frank looked dumbfounded. “But why would people want to get together to taste cheese?”

“It’s just a party, Frank,” Anna said.

“It’s just something to do with your friends,” added Mao.

He glanced between them suspiciously. “I’ve been to plenty of parties and had fun without friends pouring melted cheese over me.”

The women chuckled, rolling their eyes or shaking their heads.

“I guess that depends on your friends,” said Tom. “I can think of a few who I wish to God would pour some melted cheese on me.”

“I can think of some residents,” Mike said. He and Frank grinned at one another, nodding.

Mao looked between them, eyebrows knitting. “Like who? Alice River? As if she’d have either of you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mike responded with a defiant look. “Well, she already called me up and invited us to a Mazola party.”

Everyone else at the table burst out laughing, the uproarious sound filling their section of the cafeteria. “Oh, my God! Can you picture them at a Mazola party?” Cala said, holding her sides.

Tom smirked. “But I guess that would be way better than melted cheese.”

Scully snorted and took a bite out of her pear. After breakfast, she made her way to the second floor with Anna and commenced morning rounds on Big Mac’s patients. A few times, one of the other first-year residents approached the Chief Resident with questions regarding a patient as neither their attending or senior resident was present. Surprisingly, she would then direct Scully to read over the patient’s chart and make a decision, or speak with the child’s family to address their concerns. The more confidence Anna showed in Scully’s capabilities and the more responsibility she delegated to her, the more confident she began to feel herself.

There was a relaxed, laid back atmosphere to the hospital on Tuesday. It was Christmas Eve, and many of the physicians and surgeons had taken time off, or the weather had prevented them from getting to work. The blizzard had brought the city of Richmond to a standstill, and the mayor had announced that all unnecessary travel should be avoided. Rumors spread through the hospital that the emergency room staff were having wheelchair races. It was relatively quiet and the number of staff inside the hospital was nowhere near what it was normally on a weekday, due to both the snow storm and the holiday. Christmas songs played throughout the pediatric ward. Red and green twinkle lights were strung along the ceilings, red stockings hung from the Nurse’s Station, and large decorated Christmas trees were set up in the Play Room and Teen Lounge. Families were spending most of their time in those rooms or in the Parents’ Lounge.

By 6:30, Dr. MacDonald had yet to make an appearance at the hospital, and so his residents then made their way back down to the cafeteria to grab some breakfast. But the morning and afternoon the day before hadn’t been rushed, and it appeared that today would prove to be the same. Rounds wouldn’t start until 7:30. Because there had been no surgeries the day before, rounds would be simply perfunctory. There was no real need to hurry through breakfast. Once she’d retrieved some yogurt, grapefruit, and a cup of hot coffee, Scully took a seat at the table to join Anna and some other residents. The subject at breakfast was the usual shoptalk, several residents discussing rare neurological disorders. And as usual, she just sat and listened to the conversation.

“What’s Sandhoff-Jatzkewitz disease?” Scully quietly asked Anna.

Dr. Randall Porter took a bite of his breakfast sandwich, wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin, and then jerked his thumb at her. “Jesus Christ, who is this person? You don’t know what Sandhoff disease is?”

Randall was a senior resident who liked the sound of his own voice. He was taking part of the adult neurosurgery program, and Dr. Sharad Rajpal was his attending. It was rumored that the administration was planning to ask him to stay on staff once he finished his residency. He had a tendency to dominate all conversations at the cafeteria table when he was present, something the other residents were thankful didn’t occur all that often. He was typically absent during breakfast and only occasionally showed himself at lunchtime. He usually deemed himself too busy and too important to sit in the cafeteria for an extended period of time like the rest of them.

“Are you a medical student or an intern?” he asked Scully, his tone full of derision.

“I’m the junior resident on Dr. MacDonald’s service,” she replied.

He gave her a disgustedly shocked look and threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “ _You_ are a _neuro_ resident?”

Scully felt too embarrassingly aware of her own ignorance to defend herself at that moment in front of the whole table. To her credit, Anna stuck up for her.

“Back off, Porter. She’s all right.”

“ _All right?_ A neuro resident who doesn’t know what Sandhoff is? And she’s working under Big Mac? Jesus Christ. How the hell did she even get into the program? Does she even know what she’s doing?” He shook his head and went back to his sandwich. Scully was just starting to sink back into her comfortable Inconspicuous Resident status when he turned to her and said, “Did you know the backbone is connected to the neck bone?” He was very amused by his own witticism and looked around the table, encouraging the others to laugh along with him. One or two did before Anna once again told Randall to knock it off.

“Whatever you say, Chief,” he said as his laughter subsided. “After all, you’re the one who’s stuck with her.”

Just then the overhead page made an announcement. “Dr. Anna Harding, call on line five. Dr. Harding, line five.” She quickly stood up from the table and walked away to answer her call.

Scully sighed. Tom Ryan, who was sitting next to her at the table, saw the look in her eyes and then grabbed her by the elbow. “Come on, Grace O’Malley,” he said. “We should head back to the second floor.”

Randall by then had forgotten her. He was busy lecturing the rest of the table on the histology of skull bone healing.

“Thanks,” she said to Tom as they walked away from the table. “There’s only so much shit one can eat.”

“Forget it,” he said. “That guy’s a jerk. If the hospital asks him to stay on staff they’re out of their bloody minds.”

She sighed as they made their way to the staircase. “Do you think they’ll really ask anyone to stay on as attending this summer?”

He shrugged. “Dr. Feldstein is finally retiring. And rumor has it that Dr. MacDonald might be taking a position at Harvard Medical. So there could be two open spots this year, and the department head no less. I bet _Coals_ will get the promotion.”

“Harvard?” she replied, her eyes widening. Would her attending truly be gone later that year? If that happened, then who would she be assigned to?

“Yep. That’s where Big Mac got his M.D., you know. Apparently there’s an opening coming up for an associate professor of pediatric neurosurgery and his name is on the short list.”

Scully and Tom started to ascend the stairs to the second floor. “What was that you called me back there? Grace O’Malley? Where did that come from?”

He smiled. “She was also known as the Pirate Queen. Her father was an Irish chieftain and sea trader, and young Grace learned how to handle herself aboard his ships. But when she struck out on her own, she became a pirate, capturing English ships and taking their cargo. The English weren’t about to take this sitting down, and Elizabeth the First moved against her. So Grace O’Malley decided to go to London and she met the Virgin Queen, who then recalled her armies and ordered the release of Grace’s family. It all got sorted, and Grace ended up living to a ripe old age.”

“Okay,” she replied as they stepped onto the second floor landing. “How does that relate to me?”

“Well, you’ve got an Irish name. And your father was a naval captain, wasn’t he?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Well, yes. How did you know he was in the navy?”

He grinned. “Anna told me.” Tom then shrugged. “Grace O’Malley was just the first name to pop into me head. She’s greatly revered in Ireland and regarded as a hero, you know.”

They then parted ways and Scully walked back towards the pediatric unit. She met up with Cala, Mao, and Anna who were standing outside the Parents’ Lounge, where the flat screen television mounted in the upper left corner showed scenes from the blizzard as the sound of a news report filled the room.

“The National Weather Service says that this could turn into the biggest snowstorm since January 1996 when 17 inches of snow covered Virginia, 12 inches falling in just the first 24 hours. The storm caused the state government here in Richmond to close for nearly a week. Also, farmers who had been in the state capital to protest agricultural policy famously used their tractors to help plow the streets and get emergency personnel to local hospitals.”

The residents sighed and walked away from the Parents’ Lounge, heading for the Nurse’s Station to begin morning rounds. They started to pull patient charts from behind the large desk, where the pediatric charge nurse was speaking to a couple nursing assistants. The morning was slow-going and there weren’t that many instructions from the two attendings on the ward. Neither had Dr. MacDonald contacted the unit with any instructions for his residents. There wasn’t much to do on the ward with all surgeries having been cancelled.

Morning rounds were casual, and mostly spent chatting with patients and their families. All appeared to be doing as well as could be expected, despite having to spend the holidays in the hospital. By 9:00, once rounds and all paperwork had been finished, only one attending remained on each of the neurology and pediatric wards. Most of the senior residents had left for home, save only Anna on the pediatric unit as well as Randall Porter and Tom Ryan, who remained on the adult neurology unit. Two residents were expected to arrive at 6:00 pm to staff the overnight shift on both units, when the remaining junior and senior residents were supposed to leave. A few of them were already debating who would get to skip out early and who would have to stay until the evening staff arrived.

At 9:15, Scully sat on the bedside of one of Big Mac’s patients, a 14 year old girl with a diagnosis of a cancerous brain tumor. Her craniotomy the previous morning had been cancelled. Holding the girl’s right hand in her left palm, Scully painted her nails with a bright purple polish. Once the nails were finished, she opened a small box, revealing a beautiful mound of rippling, golden hair. The young girl stared at it, a little dazzled as Scully lifted it out of the box. She sat patiently still as her doctor fitted the wig to her bald scalp.

Scully then held up a hand mirror. “So, Brittney, what do you think?”

It was strange to her to see the locks of gorgeous hair spilling down the front of her shoulders, hanging like golden curtains on either side of her face. “You made me look pretty,” Brittney said. “Thank you, Dr. Scully.”

She smiled. “I did nothing of the sort. You’re already beautiful. This is just so you can dress up for the Christmas party tonight.”

The young girl blushed. “Do you think Trevor will go to the party?”

Fighting a grin, Scully averted her eyes and gathered up the manicure supplies, placing them back in the plastic case. “Maybe. He does like to hang out in the Teen Lounge, and that’s where the party will be.”

“My mom bought me a brand new dress and I’m gonna wear it to the party.”

She smiled. “Well, I hope you have lots of fun tonight and you’ll have to tell me all about it Thursday morning.”

At that moment, Brittney’s parents appeared in the doorway with cups of coffee and Scully excused herself. After returning the manicure case back to the activity closet, she walked back towards the Nurse’s Station. There she joined her fellow pediatric first-years, who were hanging around the desk and chatting. Frank was sitting in one of the leather swivel chairs, eating from a small bag of Doritos. Mike was reading the newspaper. An overhead page then sounded out, requesting Dr. Collier to call reception. Three minutes later, the attending pediatric neurosurgeon was spotted down the hall walking towards the desk at a brisk pace.

“Silver fox alert,” mumbled Cala, her head tilting in his direction. Mao grinned at her and quickly glanced down the hallway. The newspaper was hurriedly folded and set aside, the Doritos bag hastily crumpled and tossed into the trash can. White lab coats were smoothed down, ties were straightened.

There were certain neurosurgeons to whom every resident at Our Lady of Sorrows wanted to be assigned. Joel Groves and Sharad Rajpal were up-and-coming stars in the adult neurology unit. They loved to teach, and they let their senior residents do a lot of the operating. John MacDonald was a renowned pediatric neurosurgeon. Raisa and Leo Duvakin were making names for themselves in the world of pediatric epilepsy treatment. But the cream of the crop was Robert Collier.

Robert E. Collier was _the_ imposing figure in the Department of Neurology at Our Lady of Sorrows. Tall, distinguished, handsome, and gray-haired, Dr. Collier had a noble bearing that seemed both natural and deserved. So dignified and commanding was his presence that even most of the other attendings couldn’t allow themselves to address him by his first name. Like Dr. MacDonald, he had also pioneered a number of new surgical procedures, and had been nationally recognized for his research and treatment of complex pediatric brain and spine tumors. Many had found it unbelievable that a physician with his credentials had chosen to work for a non-profit Catholic hospital devoted to caring for the poor and uninsured. Although entering the twilight of his career, Dr. Collier was probably one of the most highly regarded pediatric neurosurgeons in the country.

From the very first day of being on the pediatric ward, Scully loved to be around Dr. Collier. But she trembled to think what would have happened if he’d been the attending she’d been assigned to. She believed he would have been appalled at how behind she was compared to the other first-years. Where Dr. MacDonald usually ignored her, Dr. Collier would’ve constantly challenged her. He was like that with all the residents, but especially those assigned to work under him. He kept them on their toes.

“What muscles are innervated by the L5 nerve root?”

“What is a calvarial vault remodeling procedure?”

“What is the minimum hourly urine output that is acceptable in a post-op patient?”

Dr. Collier demanded a lot from his residents. He insisted that his residents make “pre-round” rounds every day. If there was a problem with drainage, swelling, bleeding, pain, or abnormal lab results, God help them if they didn’t know about it, have an explanation for it, or had already implemented treatment for it by the time he was made aware of the situation. Mistakes or miscommunication were not tolerated, and residents could find themselves on the receiving end of a severe scolding. They often referred to him as “Coals” behind his back. But those high standards were his way of hammering home the importance of what they did. By his attitude, his bearing, and his demand for perfection, Dr. Collier impressed upon all the residents the seriousness of their profession.

Scully and her fellow residents stood erect as Dr. Collier swiftly approached the Nurse’s Station.

“There’s been a 26-car pile-up on the I-64, including two semis. VCU Medical Center is presently suffering a power outage and so most of the casualties are coming here. As of right now we are implementing disaster protocol. Twenty-nine major injuries and 32 minors have been reported currently. The number could grow. People still remain trapped in their cars and because of this storm emergency vehicles are having trouble getting out to the scene. Roads haven’t been plowed, the snow is still falling. It’s a mess.”

Mike, Dr. Collier’s junior resident, greeted this news with widened eyes. “We don’t have the kind of staff to handle that. It’s Christmas Eve. There’s only one attending in the ER right now. The number of physicians and surgeons in other departments is significantly fewer than normal, and some units only have one or two doctors who made it in to work today.”

He nodded. “Calls have been made, beepers have been paged, and so hopefully more of our staff can make it here as soon as possible. Myself, Dr. Chen, and Dr. Rajpal will be on hand to assist Dr. Baskin in the ER as well as Dr. Greenberg and Dr. Hershey from general surgery, and Drs. Weston and Cafaro from orthopedics. There are currently nine residents in the hospital, including the four of you, and you’re all to go to the emergency room immediately. The Chief Resident is already on her way down there, and you’re to report to her. So prepare yourselves. As soon as the victims start arriving, things are going to become hectic and overwhelming. But remember your training, your clinical rotations. Just use your heads. Make smart decisions as quickly as you can and report to Dr. Baskin or Anna Harding.”

Dr. Collier then turned to the Pediatric Nurse Manager who was standing behind the desk watching the conversation unfold. “Teona, you’re in charge up here while we’re gone. Any emergencies, page me right away. If I’m tied up, page Dr. Harding.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

He looked at the stunned, wide-eyed residents. “Let’s go.”

Scully watched him turn on his heel and start to head down the hall toward the unit doors. She then turned and looked at her fellow first-years. She thought they looked white as a sheet, their expressions mimicking a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. Her own stomach had tightened into one tight knot, her breathing started to quicken, and her heart started to pound.

*****

By 10:30 am, the emergency room was chaotic. It was packed with patients. People lined the walls – some sitting or standing and some lying on gurneys. Nurses and doctors quickly weaved through the crowds. The room with thick with the noise of patients yelling and crying, and doctors shouting to be heard. The wide automatic entrance doors were in constant motion, EMTs and firemen rushing inside with casualties from the highway pile up, frantic loved ones in search of their family. Every patient entering was wounded in some way, some more serious than others. Some were pronounced DOA.

Scully and Tom Ryan, with yellow medical gowns covering their clothes and latex gloves covering their hands, were hurriedly meeting an ambulance crew at the emergency room doors.

“Twenty-four year old male,” one EMT shouted above the loud din as they moved towards one of the ER trauma rooms. “Truck rolled. Wasn’t wearing his seatbelt. Step off deformity at the L4 vertebrae and there’s an altered level of consciousness. Legs are flaccid.”

“Okay, we have a spinal cord injury,” Tom announced to Scully and the nursing staff. “Gently on three.” He then counted down and the team moved the patient off the EMTs’ gurney. “Is a neurosurgeon free right now?”

She placed her stethoscope in her ears. “Dr. Chen is still down here. And the OR should still be open.”

He nodded. “Flaccid paralysis and areflexia south of L4,” he spoke to the room.

Scully worked over the patient’s legs as the nurses monitored vital signs. “Good news – he’s responding to pain. Let’s do a spine CT scan. Vitals?”

“Ninety over 72, pulse 60,” a nurse replied.

“It might be spinal shock,” Scully said.

Tom looked over at her, impressed. “Good call.”

She managed a half smile before turning her full attention back to the young man on the table. Twenty minutes later, having seen several trauma patients, she was quickly walking beside another gurney being transported by EMTs.

“Dana, what have you got?” called out Anna.

Scully handed her the clipboard she held in her hand. “Thirty-seven year old woman. Pregnancy at 30 weeks. Car spun and hit several other vehicles, before rolling over. Shoulder, neck, and left head trauma.”

The Chief Resident quickly nodded and, taking the clipboard, she approached the gurney and leaned over. “Ma’am, my name is Dr. Harding, and I’m gonna take good care of you and your baby. Don’t you worry about a thing.” She then straightened up and shouted down the hallway. “All right, let’s move!”

They rolled into a trauma room as the nursing staff quickly surrounded the patient. “Morphine 4 mg, I.V. push,” directed Scully as the patient was transferred from the gurney to the table.

Anna quickly looked the woman over and then spoke to one of the nurses. “I know they’re all busy upstairs, but we need someone from OB to look at her to rule out any complications. What’s the word on getting more doctors here?”

“Calls have been made to Fire Stations 19 and 24 to pick up Docs who are stuck at home,” answered another nurse.

At that moment, Frank and Cala rushed into the doorway of the trauma room. “Dr. Harding!” he called out.

Anna turned towards them, her stomach sinking at the ominous look on their faces. “What?”

Cala swallowed. Scully noticed her pale skin and red, watery eyes. Frank also looked like he might be sick. It was clear to her that those young residents had never experienced casualties on this level. “Twelve year old boy with two broken legs and a crushed pelvis,” Cala said grimly. “Going into Trauma Three.”

Sighing, Scully closed her eyes and hung her head. She then looked up and locked eyes with Anna. “Go on. Go help that boy. I’ve got this.”

The Chief Resident nodded and walked away from the table, joining Frank and Cala outside the trauma room. “Where’s Dr. Weston or Dr. Cafaro?”

“They’re up in the OR,” said Frank. “Dr. Collier is also in the OR with that severed spine. The other surgeons are tied up with patients. We’re still waiting on the firetrucks to bring in the other attendings.”

“One of you go up to the OR and tell someone from ortho about the boy,” Anna instructed. “Now. And you better not come back down here without an orthopedic surgeon. One of you come with me.”

Cala quickly turned and walked away from her before she and Frank made their way across the room. Scully then gave the expectant mother on the table her full attention.

The woman’s eyes were filling with tears. “Am I going to be okay? And my baby? Will my baby be okay? Someone needs to call my husband.”

Scully smiled down at her reassuringly. “Everything’s going to be fine. My name’s Dr. Scully. What’s yours?”

The patient took a deep breath and tried to smile. “Leah Carter. Please, I need someone to call my husband. His name is Kevin.”

“We’re gonna call him right now,” said the African American nurse as she pushed the morphine into the patient’s I.V. “Don’t you worry. My name is Cynthia and we’re gonna take real good care of you.”

It was soon deduced that the patient’s injuries weren’t as severe as originally thought, and she was just suffering from a bad case of whiplash. Scully donned a fresh pair of gloves and started stitching up the gashes in her forehead and shoulder while the nurses monitored her vital signs as well as those belonging to her unborn baby. Everything checked out normal, and once the stitches were finished, Scully ordered the nurses to make another call to OB and have someone come down to check on the patient and her baby. She then stepped out of the room and moved quickly to greet another incoming ambulance.

An hour later, she removed her gloves and yellow gown, tossing them into a large trash can. The emergency room was just as full of chaos and loud noise as it had been earlier. Those with minor cuts and burns were being tended to by nurses or one of the first-year residents. The surgeons were all occupied up on the fourth floor, and the hospital was still expecting the arrival of more staff to treat those who were waiting to get into the OR.

Scully walked past a row of seats near the waiting area and noticed the pregnant mother she’d treated earlier was sitting peacefully next to a man whom she guessed was the patient’s husband. With a confused expression, she turned to address the woman who was moving towards the Nurse’s Station.

“Cynthia, why is the OB patient still here? She should’ve been discharged by now.”

The nurse turned to reply. “They’re still busy upstairs, Doctor. Got two C-sections and a partial abruption. They haven’t been able to send an OB down to look at her yet.”

She heaved a sigh. “Then why isn’t she still in a room? Why is she sitting in the hallway?”

“We needed to use the room,” replied Cynthia. “We’ve had multiple broken bones. Another man with a severed spinal cord came in, and he also had a broken neck. Dr. Rajpal and Dr. Collier demanded a room. They took him up to the OR about 45 minutes ago. Mrs. Carter was doing fine an hour ago. No one from OB showed up, but all her vitals were normal and so we moved her out as soon as possible to make room for critical patients. We’ll discharge her as soon as OB gives the okay. Whenever they can bring themselves to grace us with their presence.”

The nurse’s sarcastic and exasperated tone convinced Scully not to reply and she simply watched Cynthia walk back towards the Nurse’s Station. She turned and glanced at the couple sitting against the wall. The woman recognized her and pointed her out to her husband. He quickly stood up and approached.

“Hi, Dr. Scully?”

“Yes.” She shook his outstretched hand. “Hello, Mr. Carter.”

He nodded. “Look, my wife’s been here long enough. Everything checked out from what she said. Can’t we get out of here? How much longer do we have to wait? She’s very uncomfortable and stiff from the crash, and I’d like to get her home to rest.”

She pursed her lips, nodding. “I understand.” She turned and spotted the ER attending physician on the other side of the large room. “Dr. Baskin!” she called out, and moved towards him.

“Dr. Scully?” he said in greeting.

She then gave the patient’s history, her condition when she’d arrived at the hospital and her current status. “We’ve been trying to get someone from OB down here to discharge her, but…”

Dr. Baskin shook his head and adjusted his glasses. “They’re swamped up there right now. Look, check her vitals again and hook her up to a Fetal Doppler. If everything checks out, write up the discharge papers and I’ll sign off on them.” He then swiftly walked away.

Ten minutes later, a room cleared out and Leah Carter was assisted inside. The nursing staff were busy attending to more serious patients, and so two of Scully’s fellow residents came over to assist. Cala took the patient’s vital signs as Mao hooked up the fetal heartrate monitor. Leah held onto her husband’s hand and they smiled warmly at each other.

“We’re having a boy, you know?” he said to Scully.

She hesitated slightly, swallowing, and then smiled. “Have you thought of any names?”

The couple gave each other funny looks. “He wants Raymond, after his dad,” Leah said. “But…” She scrunched up her face.

He chuckled. “What’s wrong with Raymond? Your dad’s name is Arthur, and I’m not going to inflict that on my kid.” His wife laughed. 

Scully gave them another small smile.

“Dana.” Mao spoke seriously in a hushed, quiet tone.

She made eye contact with the resident, whose eyes darted to the fetal heartrate monitor. Scully looked over at the Doppler. Her stomach bottomed out. Nothing. No heartrate. A flat line. She tried to push down her panic as she addressed the resident. “Call OB and tell them to get down here. I don’t care how busy they are.”

Cala walked quickly towards the phone on the wall.

“Is there an ultrasound machine in the ER?” Scully asked.

“I… I don’t know,” replied Mao, her eyes wide, panic setting in.

She stepped forward, grasping her arm, and spoke calmly. “Go find out. And find Dr. Baskin. Or any attending.”

Leah and Kevin Carter’s expression became worried. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “The monitor… it…” She started breathing heavily, her eyes filling with tears as she gazed at the machine.

“It’s not necessarily foolproof,” Scully said, her face reddening with every syllable. Taking the stethoscope from around her neck, she placed it on the taut skin of her patient’s pregnant belly and listened carefully. She could’ve heard a pin drop, but all she was listening for was a heartbeat. It seemed that everyone in the room was holding their breath. She frowned and repositioned the stethoscope, and waited intently for what seemed like forever. Beads of sweat formed at her brow as she bent over Leah’s abdomen. She moved the stethoscope around, hoping to find the precious sound.

Scully’s heart beat wildly. She tried her best to calm it, but it was no use. If only she could give some of her heartbeats to the Carters’ baby, then everything would be okay. She stood up straight and placed the stethoscope back around her neck, and wiped the sweat from her brow.

“Leah, Kevin,” she said in a quiet but strong voice. “The fetal Doppler couldn’t find a heartbeat. I can’t find a heartbeat. That doesn’t mean it isn’t there, but just that it’s too faint for me to hear with my ears alone and perhaps the way the baby is positioned the monitor can’t pick it up either. You need to have an ultrasound. Just so we know what’s going on.”

Mrs. Carter stared up at the ceiling, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. “He’s just stubborn. Like me. My mother always tells me that I was a stubborn baby, even before I was born.”

Ten minutes later, what felt like the longest ten minutes in the world, Mao returned with an ultrasound machine and a technician. Just moments later, the ultrasound technician squirted some gel on Leah’s belly and proceeded to slide the probe around in circles.

“I’m looking for your baby’s heartbeat now,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. Everyone gazed at the screen, transfixed. Cala and Mao huddled together on the other side of the room, their eyes wet with unshed tears, their faces flushed. Scully quickly glanced at her fellow residents and their eyes met, their faces grim. They all felt sick. There was no movement on the screen. There were no sounds. There was no heartbeat, no life. The baby had died.

Scully looked calmly at Leah and Kevin Carter. “I’m so sorry. The baby’s heart has stopped, and we’re not exactly sure why. I’m terribly sorry, but he’s gone.”

Mao and Cala, their faces crumpling, quickly turned and walked out of the room as Cynthia and another nurse walked in. They immediately started speaking with the Carters. Scully turned and glared at the ultrasound technician as he removed the probe from Leah’s belly and turned off the machine. She stepped over and grabbed him by his arm, pulling him out of the room.

“You get back up to OB and you get someone down here. Right now!”

His eyes widened at the rage in her tone and expression, and he faltered. “But… but there’s… there’s only two OBs up there right now. We’re… we’re still waiting for the on-call OB to get here. They’ve got C-sections and a… a partial abruption up there, and, uh… uh, another patient with complications. The OBs can’t leave the floor right now.”

Scully’s eyes blazed. “I don’t care if you have to physically grab someone by the hair and drag them down here! Just get up there and make it happen!”

He hurriedly turned and walked away from her, heading for the elevators in the corridor outside the emergency room. Another fifteen minute wait, and the technician hadn’t returned. Neither had any of the physicians from the maternity ward made an appearance. Scully walked around the loud, chaotic emergency room, in search of an attending or the Chief Resident.

“Cynthia, where’s Dr. Baskin?”

The nurse sighed. “Patient going into cardiac arrest right now.”

She shook her head. “Well, where’s Dr. Harding?”

“She returned to the neurology floor about twenty minutes ago,” Cynthia replied. “One of Dr. MacDonald’s patients was having a grand mal seizure.”

Her mouth fell open. Oh, Jesus. But if Anna was gone, then who was in charge? “Well… where’s Dr. Ryan? Dr. Porter? Any other senior residents?”

The nurse gave her a sympathetic look. “They’re all upstairs assisting the surgeons. But they’ll be back down as soon as they’re free.”

Jesus Christ. Scully felt in over her head. The last normal vital signs on her patient had been taken over an hour ago, and there was no telling how long the baby had been dead. Something had to be done as soon as possible. She looked around the emergency room. Mao and Cala had disappeared, and she suspected they were hiding from the tragic event unfolding in Trauma Room Two. She found Mike and Frank hooking up an I.V. and blood bag in Trauma Three. The patient on the table was bleeding profusely from his right leg. When she requested their help, informing them of her patient and what had happened, they blanched and lowered their heads. Sighing, she turned from the open doorway.

Cynthia then approached her. “OB is on the line.”

She walked quickly over to the Nurse’s Station and got on the phone. “Dr. Scully.”

“Yes, this is Judy Gates. Neither myself nor Dr. Solomon can leave the floor right now. We have critical patients up here. Have you ever delivered a baby before?”

“Yes,” she replied, recalling that night she spent in Florida during a hurricane. “A live baby.”

“There’s not much difference. You can induce labor. When she’s dilated to 10 centimeters, she’ll need to push. Just deliver the baby. You’ll do fine.”

Scully pursed her lips. “Induced labor would take hours. And what if she doesn’t want to do that? She might want it surgically removed.”

Dr. Gates sighed. “Then you’ll have to wait until the on-call OB shows up. She should be on her way. Or you can just discharge her and send her home. She can then schedule an appointment with her regular OB/GYN. Labor usually starts naturally within two weeks after the baby dies. Look, you can handle it. I’ll try and send one of our RN’s down to you.”

“I’m not going to discharge her before an OB sees her,” she replied, anger rising in her voice.

“Then you’ll just have to wait, Dr. Scully.” She then promptly hung up the phone, the dial tone buzzing.

She heaved an exasperated sigh, shaking her head as she hung up the receiver. She rubbed the space between her brows, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths, and decided to wait on an OB. Sometime later, she walked back through the doors to Trauma Two and pulled up a rolling stool to sit beside Leah Carter’s bed. She had been sobbing so hard she’d broken blood vessels in her eyes. Her husband sat next to her, white as a sheet, eyes red and puffy.

“We’re still waiting for someone from OB to arrive,” Scully said quietly.

“People have been saying that for over two hours,” replied Kevin, weary and exhausted.

She sighed. “I know. And I’m sorry the wait has been so long.”

Leah’s voice choked with emotion. “Why did this happen? Because of the accident?”

“It’s possible that what happened to you in the accident caused distress to your baby,” she said. “But there also may have been numerous other factors that played a role, ones that could have originated before the crash.”

She nodded tearfully. “It was my first baby. We’d tried so hard for so long.” She sighed, her breath shaky. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to get over this.”

Scully looked down at her entwined hands, nervously playing with her fingers. She then looked up, gazing fixedly at the heartbroken mother. “You won’t get over it.”

Leah turned and met her gaze with widened eyes, tears falling down her face.

“When you lose a child, everything hurts – every part of your mind, your heart, your soul. Every part of your body screams as if in protest, ‘No, no this can’t be happening.’ Every fiber of your being screams out, ‘Please don’t leave me.’ You don’t ever get over it. You won’t get by it because you’ll never be able to get around it. But you _will_ get through it. It doesn’t get better. It won’t ever get better. But it will be different. Every day, grief will wear a different face. But I promise that someday you will smile again. Someday you will laugh, and someday you will be happy again. Not tomorrow or a month from now or maybe even six months from now, but someday.”

Kevin reached out and took his wife’s hand in his own. Leah turned her head to once again stare up at the ceiling, and she nodded. Scully then quietly stood up from the rolling stool and left the room. Her mood was plummeting even further as she felt strong emotions rising up inside her, a sadness that was completely separate from what was happening at the hospital. She fought hard to suppress them, not wanting to dwell on them and where they were coming from.

Thankfully a fire truck finally had arrived with a few hospital physicians, but the emergency room was still chaos. More misery blustered in with each opening of the automatic doors. A child with a deep gash above his eye. Two badly bruised women twitching with pain. An old man clutching his stomach, his entire torso soaked with blood. There were shouts for nurses, doctors, and crash carts.

At 1:22 pm, Cynthia rushed towards Scully just as she pronounced a DOA at the emergency room doors. The EMTs nodded and the gurney continued on its way.

“Dr. Scully!”

“What is it?”

The nurse’s eyes were wide. “It’s Mrs. Carter. She’s spiked a fever of 102 and she’s sweating badly. She’s in a lot of pain.”

Scully took off almost at a run towards Trauma Two. “Find an attending!” she shouted at Cynthia. “And call OB again!”

The trauma door slammed against the wall as Scully rushed inside. Monitors beeped loudly, sounding out warnings. Leah Carter writhed in pain. Her husband stood helplessly next to her, squeezing her hand and wiping the sweat pouring from her brow, careful of the wound Scully had stitched earlier. Moments later, Cynthia entered the room.

“No attendings are available,” she said, speaking fast. “Neither are your senior residents. I called OB and they’re sending someone down right now.”

“I’m here,” said Dr. Randall Porter. “What do you need me to do?”

Great, the senior resident from adult neurology who thought she didn’t belong there. But adrenaline pumped through Scully’s veins, her heart pounding in her chest, and she was just relieved to see someone in a white lab coat had finally arrived to assist her. Cynthia and two other nurses surrounded the table, hooking up I.V. fluids, administering pain medication, taking blood gas levels. A minute later, a woman in her late 20’s or early 30’s entered the room wearing pink scrubs, her dark blonde hair held up in a messy bun.

“Hi, I’m Mariel Armstrong, an RN from maternity. You have a patient with a stillbirth in distress?”

“Where’s the OB?” Scully asked.

Mariel shook her head. “Busy. The partial abruption became a full abruption and the C-section had complications. A patient with preeclampsia was just admitted. Their hands are tied. You’ve got me.”

Dr. Porter noticed Mrs. Carter fading in and out of consciousness. “Dr. Scully!”

“Shit, we’re losing her!” She turned to the maternity RN. “We have to get her baby out now!”

“Here in the ER?” she balked. “Have you ever done this procedure?”

Scully and the other nurses started working to prep the patient for an emergency C-section. She then turned to the RN from OB. “Will you help me?”

Mariel gave her a determined look and then promptly donned a pair of latex gloves before taking her place beside the rest of the medical team. Grabbing a scalpel from a surgical tray, Scully began cutting across the patient’s pelvis with little hesitation as Nurse Armstrong talked her through it.

“Clamps!” shouted Mariel.

Cynthia stared at her and then exchanged surprised looks with the two other nurses. One of them quickly turned from the table to search through the drawers for the requested tool. But they didn’t have time. While Mariel held the mother’s skin wide enough, Scully reached inside her abdomen and pulled the baby from her womb. But the result was not a screaming, vibrant, healthy infant, but a quiet, still, lifeless one. The physical pain the mother had gone through had served no purpose but to cause even greater pain.

The umbilical cord had tightly wrapped around the baby’s neck three times. Mariel then took control, clamping the cord and taking the baby from Scully’s hands. Dr. Porter sutured Mrs. Carter’s abdomen. Moments later, Mariel brought the wrapped baby back over and passed him to his mother. “He’s beautiful,” the nurse said quietly.

Taking the first glance down at their son – weary, exhausted, and the mother still in pain – Leah and Kevin Carter began to weep. Dr. Porter turned away from them, his face reddening even more, and he stepped over to the counter against the wall and began to read over the patient’s chart. The room was quiet, other than the painful cries of the anguished parents, and no one spoke. The nurses worked quickly and silently around the mother.

As Scully watched the scene, her heart sinking into her stomach, an image of Mulder’s face flashed in front of her eyes, an image of William. She hastily suppressed them, somewhat surprised at the suddenness of it, trying to emotionally back away from a situation that threatened to bring her to the doorstep of her own personal tragedies. She buried her feelings and protected herself, trying to remain attuned the needs of her patient while working hard to disconnect from her own heart.

Mariel walked over to her. “You did a good job, Doctor.”

Scully had no reply. She glanced between the patient and the monitors. Something wasn’t right. Leah was growing weaker with each passing second. Her husband took the baby from her arms. She began to fade in and out of consciousness, and her speech became confused, as if she was delirious. The monitors suddenly sounded out warnings.

“Her vitals are dropping!” shouted Scully.

The air in the room tensed and the medical team started working quickly around her. Her husband, in shock, holding his son in arms, was rushed out of the room. Scully felt at a loss, unsure as to what had caused such a rapid decline.

Cynthia looked up at her. “She’s got a fever of 104.”

“An infection?” Scully guessed out loud. She wasn’t sure what kind, or what could bring on symptoms so fast. No rhyme. No reason. Why?

“I think she’s having a stroke,” Dr. Porter said. His mouth fell open, shocked, and he didn’t move, as if paralyzed.

Mariel blanched and lifted up the sheet that covered the mother’s legs. Scully noted the pronounced varicose veins, and the red, swollen left leg. Realization dawned, and her heart sunk into her stomach like a lead weight. She shouted for thrombolytic medicines to be administered, but it was too late. A few moments later, Leah Carter flatlined. Chaos took over the room. A crash cart was called for and they began CPR. They worked over her for nearly 20 minutes, but in the end there was nothing that Scully or anyone could do to bring her back.

Two hours later, she sat in the empty residents’ lounge on the seventh floor in the North Tower, staring down at the table in front of her. Scully couldn’t get the image of Leah and Kevin Carter holding their lifeless son out of her mind, the devastation when he was told what had happened to his wife. In literal moments, he’d lost his life partner and his son. And it was her fault. She’d waited too long. She’d hesitated to act in hopes that more experienced doctors would. She’d missed crucial evidence that would’ve pointed to a serious problem. Yet she hadn’t shed a single tear, remaining stoically professional throughout the turmoil.

The door to the lounge opened, and Anna’s eyes widened. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Why didn’t you just page me?”

“I did. Twice. You didn’t hear the overhead?”

Scully shrugged, sighing. She felt numb and exhausted. She honestly couldn’t remember hearing a page that had contained her name, there had been so many going off every few minutes. She might’ve eventually closed her ears to them.

Anna pursed her lips, a flicker of sympathy in her expression. “Dr. Collier called a meeting in the Conference Room ten minutes ago. Oh, and Big Mac’s here.”

Five minutes later they had joined the other residents in the meeting room, nine of them sitting around the long rectangular table. Dr. MacDonald was standing at the front of the room along with Dr. Collier, Dr. Rajpal, and Dr. Chen. He took an X-ray out of the view box.

“One should never be afraid to admit one’s mistakes, Dr. Porter.”

Randall, embarrassed, nodded weakly.

Dr. Collier picked up a patient chart and scanned its contents, before looking up at Scully. Their eyes met and she tensed, her stomach knotting fiercely.

“Dr. Scully, you’ve read over the facts of the Carter case?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what have you concluded?”

She licked her lips, leaning forward. She wanted to say they’d treated her the best they could, but had they? She decided to stick to the cold, hard facts. “And unbeknownst to myself and the other staff in the room,” she concluded. “A blood clot had formed in her left leg. It traveled up her body, going into her brain and causing a massive stroke. By the time I realized this, it was too late to treat effectively. She died on the table moments later. I neglected to act in a timely manner, and instead waited for others to act. I failed to take note of possible risk factors or to see the signs of her condition worsening.”

Dr. MacDonald crossed his arms. “The blood clot was sudden and irreversible. None of us could have done a thing for her, even if we’d been right there.”

The other surgeons nodded, and Dr. Collier merely eyed Scully thoughtfully. “But that’s little consolation, I’m sure,” he said.

The meeting continued, briefly reviewing cases the residents worked on in the ER and OR, the schedule for the rest of the week, and some other departmental topics. Once finished, the residents started to disperse and head for the door.

“Dr. Scully, Bob and I would like to speak with you for a minute,” said Dr. MacDonald.

At first she just stared, not knowing who _“Bob”_ was. But then she saw that Big Mac must have no qualms about addressing Dr. Collier in a casual manner. She nodded quietly, and caught the eye of her fellow first-years. Mao, Cala, Mike, and Frank gave her wide-eyed looks of terror as they walked out of the room. Scully approached the front of the room, leaving some distance between her and the pediatric neurosurgeons.

Dr. MacDonald pursed his lips and nodded. “We thought you’d like to know that the emergency room staff are singing your praises right now.”

Surprise registered on her face. “They are?”

“Your quick actions and smart decisions saved lives,” said Big Mac. “Overlooking the tragic incident with the expectant mother. But even that situation says a lot about your capabilities and your desire to treat patients in need. Most of the other junior residents, and even a senior resident or two, were content to treat the minor, non-life-threatening injuries, or to escape the overwhelming chaos of the ER, and hide themselves away in an operating room to observe and assist a surgeon. But many of them cowered when serious, life-or-death cases came through those doors, cases that required immediate action in the ER. That was not true of you.”

“What personal conclusions have you drawn from the Carter case?” asked the other attending.

Scully hesitated, not sure how to answer. The look in Dr. Collier’s eye told her that he didn’t want to hear bullshit. She took a deep breath. “Well, sir… it scared the shit out of me.”

“And why is that?”

“Because from the first day I started here, I’ve been afraid that I would make a terrible mistake. That case was like my worst nightmare come true.”

He nodded. “You owe it to your patients to never lose that fear, Dr. Scully. For as long as you practice, never let go of that fear.”

Dr. Collier reached over and picked up the patient chart. “Something like this can happen from the lack of vigilance on the part of the surgeon.” She thought he might’ve been speaking just as much to himself as to her. “Everything that will happen in the operating room will be your responsibility. Everything. On the operating table will lie an unconscious, helpless child who has placed his confidence and trust in you – not in the residents, not in the anesthesiologist, not in the hospital, _but in you.”_

His shoulders sagged. He was visibly shaken and exhausted from the day as was everyone else. She wondered at what kind of mistakes, what kind of heartbreaking situations, he’d seen over the course of his long career.

“Dr. Scully, you’ll find that you will learn a lot more about yourself from your failures than from your successes.”

She nodded.

Dr. MacDonald gave her a half smile. “I spoke with Dr. Burke and Father Ybarra, and the other attendings. We think it would good for you to take one of your leave weeks now, starting with Christmas tomorrow and returning to work on the 2nd of January. You’ll of course have three more weeks to use at your discretion before July. The In-Training Exam is on the 11th and we don’t want an event like this to prevent you from devoting the time and attention you need to prepare for the exam. We’re all aware that you began six months later than the other first-year junior residents. We wouldn’t want there to be a perception that you haven’t been given the same opportunity for study and research that your peers have had.”

“Well… I didn’t think that…”

Her attending raised his hand, cutting her off. “Just enjoy your holidays. We’ll see you next week.”

At 5:50 pm, Scully pulled out of the hospital parking lot, cautiously driving into the wintery weather. She was thankful the snow fall had let up some and most of the roads were being cleared. She was anxious to get home, anxious to see Mulder. Worn out and fatigued from the distress of the day, she drove with a heavy heart toward their house in Quinton.

*****

It was almost 6:30 when Scully turned onto Wallis Road. As she approached their property, she spotted two minivans on the side of the road near their front gate. Just as feelings of fear and panic started to rise, as she got closer she spotted the Maryland license plate on the back of the Toyota Sienna minivan. Her family had arrived.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about them showing up unexpectedly. They weren’t supposed to come over until tomorrow, and she had wanted some alone time with Mulder. She turned right into her driveway. She noticed it had been plowed and she made a mental note to thank their Mennonite neighbors. Closing her eyes and heaving a sigh, she put the gear into park and opened the car door.

Bill and Maggie stepped out of the Chrysler Town and Country and into the snow. Charlie also hopped out from behind the steering wheel of the other van. Scully walked over and greeted them, giving them each a hug before waving to Jennifer, Tara, and the kids who remained in their warm vehicles.

“I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow,” she said to her mother and brothers.

“Well, we wanted to surprise you,” said Maggie. “And so we made sure to get here when you got out of work.”

Scully wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. “But in this weather? And where are you going to stay tonight? I don’t have room for all of you.”

Charlie smiled. “We got three rooms at the Shooting Star Motel in Fredericksburg. It’s like fifteen minutes from here.”

She nodded. “Well, let’s go up to the house, then.”

It wasn’t long before all three vehicles were pulling up in front of the house. Scully hurriedly unbuckled her seat belt and got out of her car. As she walked up the wooden stairs to the porch, which Mulder had already shoveled, she quickly made for the front door. She wanted to give him at least some warning before her family descended upon their home. She opened the door and stepped inside.

“Mulder!” she called out as she crossed the threshold.

He stepped out from the small hallway, walking into the living room. “Hey!” He smiled, and then his smile faltered slightly as a look of concern came over his face. “I saw on the news about that pile up on the I-64 and all those people being sent to your hospital.” His hands went to her shoulders, rubbing them gently. “That must’ve been a nightmare. I’m glad you’re home safe, anyway. I guess the roads aren’t too terrible right now.”

She chewed her bottom lip. “Yeah. Mulder…”

But he heard car doors slamming shut and voices outside. He furrowed his brows. “Who’s here?”

“My family. They decided to surprise us.”

“Oh.” He sighed. “I don’t suppose Bill Jr decided to skip the holiday visit?”

She shook her head, pursing her lips. Mulder took a deep breath, his stomach knotting. “Better get it over with, I guess.”

Scully rubbed his arm. “It won’t be so bad. Not nearly as bad as the last time you saw each other. I think Bill understands things much better now, and he’s helped us a lot. I’m sure everything will be just fine.”

They turned and moved over to stand in front of the open doorway, neither putting a whole lot of confidence in those last words, and watched 11 people ascend their front stairs. Some of them were carrying wrapped presents, grocery bags, and cookware. Soon Scully’s family surrounded them, hugs or handshakes being given.

“Fox, you’re looking well,” said Maggie after she’d hugged and kissed him.

“Thanks, Mrs. Scully. You too. Come on in and make yourself comfortable.”

Bill Jr stood frozen inside the door once he’d closed it, staring at the flying saucer on top of the brightly lit Christmas tree in the corner of the room. He clenched his jaw, huffing in annoyance, and then turned a steely gaze on Mulder.

“Hi, Bill.” He stepped forward, holding out his hand to shake.

“Hello.” His tone cold, he placed a plastic grocery bag into Mulder’s outstretched palm.

Scully exchanged an exasperated look with her mother and sisters-in-law, who then ushered her into the kitchen. Forty-five minutes later, a hot meal was cooking on the stove and in the oven. Extra dining chairs that Mulder had retrieved from one of the sheds a few days ago and stored in the utility room had been placed around the kitchen table. More firewood had been added to the cast iron stove.

Six children huddled together in the living room, watching a Christmas movie on the television. Bill Jr sat on the couch watching with them, while Mulder and Scully seated themselves at the table with Charlie, chatting and watching the other women move around the kitchen. Occasionally, Maggie would place a motherly hand in Scully’s hair or on Mulder’s shoulder. Soon she turned the oven temperature down and put the burners on low, and then turned to her daughter. “Now, we want a tour of the rest of the house!”

Scully smiled and nodded, and stood up from the table. She started moving towards the living room, her mother and sisters-in-law following her to the foot of the staircase. Maggie turned and looked at her eldest son sitting on the couch.

“Bill, we’re going to take a look around the house.”

“Have fun.” His gaze didn’t move from the television screen.

Maggie thrust her tongue in her cheek and walked towards him, lowering her voice. “William Scully Jr, do you not recall the conversation we had yesterday? Get off that couch and come see your sister’s beautiful home.”

He heaved a sigh, and stood up from the couch. Jennifer arched her eyebrow from where her husband still sat at the table with Mulder. “Charlie.”

“What? He already showed me around weeks ago.”

Bill gave his younger brother a look of surprise, before it quickly became an icy glare. Jennifer pursed her lips, and then smirked. “Fine. You can set the table.”

Charlie nodded, grinning back at her.

Mulder caught Scully’s gaze, her eyes going wide and her head tilting towards the stairs. He got the impression that she didn’t want to go up there without him. Without a word, he got up from the chair and moved towards the staircase. She then led them up to the second floor. Everyone except Bill Jr stepped into the master bedroom, who remained hovering in the hallway. Mulder and Scully leaned against his dresser facing each other as her family members moved down the hall towards the bathroom.

“How was your day?” she asked quietly.

“It was all right,” he answered with a low voice, nodding his head and shrugging. “Glad I cleaned up a little since everyone showed up out of the blue.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry about this. I kind of wish they’d just come tomorrow, as planned.”

He smiled, shaking his head. He brought his hand up to her face, gently brushing the backs of his fingers against her cheek. She looked exhausted, and sad. “What’s the matter? I can tell something’s up. Is it work?”

“I had a terrible day.” She sighed again as his hand moved down to rub her arm. She moved forward, wrapped her arms around his waist, relishing the feel of his solid warmth. “I don’t know if I want to talk about it right…”

“Dana, this bathroom is gorgeous!” Tara called out. “I love the claw-foot bathtub.”

“Thank you!” she called out in answer. “The tub is great.”

Mulder grinned down at her. “You and I need to make use of that tub more often.”

Scully looked up, her lips curving into a smirk. “I’ve been given a week off.”

“Really?” His eyebrows shot up and he wrapped his arms around her tighter. “A whole week? We’re definitely getting in that tub.” He smirked, his eyes glinting suggestively. “The vibrator is waterproof, you know,” he whispered.

She snorted, her face turning red. “Shh!”

He chuckled. “What? They can’t hear me.”

Scully rolled her eyes, shaking her head, and then stepped back from him to turn toward the open doorway. As she looked into the hallway she saw her family walking out of the empty room at the other end of the hall, closing the door behind them. Maggie smiled hesitantly at her, Tara and Jennifer had the look of two sad people trying to put on a brave face. She wondered what they had talked about in that room, but then decided she didn’t want to know. Her stomach tightened, but she hastily pushed away the confusing emotion she had felt rise up inside her. She never thought about that room down the hall, and she wasn’t about to start now. She felt it was time to get back downstairs, not wanting to linger on the second floor any longer than she had to, and started moving towards the staircase.

Half an hour later, the adults sat around the kitchen table. Ben, Jack, and Hannah sat together with their cousins Matthew, Eleanor, and Delphine at a smaller folding table. Mulder sat at one end of the table, with Scully sitting crosswise on his right, while Charlie sat at the other end. The family chatted and laughed, catching up on stories and news. Scully was mostly quiet, mostly adding to the conversation when others asked her questions about Our Lady of Sorrows and the residency. Her family was very interested in what Mulder was doing to occupy himself, and he spoke about the house and large property.

Bill Jr contributed to the table discussion with tales from his naval base or comment when Tara would share something about their kids. He’d heartily tease Charlie or Jennifer and would include his mother in conversation. But for most of the meal, he refrained from speaking to his sister or her partner. Then Bill picked up his glass of red wine and glanced at the other end of the table.

“So, Mulder, what’s it like to be the wife of a doctor?”

Sighing, he pursed his lips. He didn’t even know what to say to such a statement. Scully stared daggers at her older brother.

“Bill.” Maggie’s tone was full of warning.

“Mulder and Aunt Dana aren’t married, Uncle Bill.”

Everyone turned and looked at Charlie’s youngest son, chuckling. Mulder smirked at the kid.

Bill Jr nodded. “You’re right, Jack. They’re not married. Why? I’m not sure. _Respectable people_ get married.”

“Jesus, here we go,” Charlie muttered.

“Charles, could you please refrain from using the Lord’s name in vain,” admonished his mother. “It’s Christmas, for goodness’ sake.”

“We don’t need to be married,” said Scully.

Her older brother gave her and Mulder a sarcastic look. “What’s the big deal? I mean, you own a car together. You own…”

“Scully owns the car.”

Bill Jr stared as his sister’s partner took a bite of apple pie. “Well, you own this house together.”

Mulder shook his head. “Technically, I don’t own the house. She does. Her name’s on the paperwork. I just paid for it.”

“Great,” he replied, his tone bitter. “So you’re… what? A tenant?”

“Bill, knock it off,” Scully said.

Tara turned toward her husband. “Fox and Dana are committed, Bill. Anyone can see that. Why do you always have to bring up the marriage issue as though it’s a reason you can never take them seriously?”

He scoffed. “Committed?” He looked down the table. “So you two live together now. All that says is you’re lovers. Not that my sister is the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with. What kind of commitment is that? What kind of security does that bring to her life?”

Mulder sighed. Scully rolled her eyes.

“Bill, it’s not even possible for them,” said Maggie. “How could Fox show up at the town clerk and obtain a marriage license?”

“Right. Because Dana is in a relationship with a wanted felon.”

Scully glared at her brother. “Mulder is innocent.”

Bill sneered at  her. “How convenient for everyone in this room. Especially you, Dana. I’m sure you look forward to telling the story of how you and Mulder bought your dream house and then dated happily ever after.”

Tara and Jennifer groaned, rolling their eyes. Charlie shook his head at his brother. Maggie’s head was bowed, her fingers drumming the table. Scully didn’t even know how to respond to such an immature statement.

Leaning back in the chair, Mulder took a deep breath. “You know, Bill, I was prepared to treat you hospitably, and with gratefulness for what you did for Scully.”

“It wasn’t done for _your_ benefit,” he replied bitterly.

“I know it wasn’t. But I was willing to let bygones be bygones. And now… I don’t care anymore. You’re an asshole, plain and simple. There’s nothing anyone can do about that. Scully and I are happy together, and you could never possibly even imagine the things we’ve been through, and survived, together. So I don’t give a damn about what you have to say on the subject. Anything you have to say about your sister or me would just prove how ignorant you are.”

Bill Jr’s face grimaced in anger and he slammed his cloth napkin down on the table. “You…”

Maggie abruptly stood up from the table. “William Scully Jr. Come with me.”

With the embarrassed demeanor of a child about to be punished by his stern mother, he got up from the table and followed her to the utility room off the small hallway. She closed the door after he stepped inside.

“I’m sorry, you guys…” Mulder started to say.

The others at the table quickly shushed him. “We wanna hear what they’re gonna say,” whispered Charlie, his eyebrows shooting upwards. Everyone else nodded in agreement. Scully winked at him. Mulder snorted, shaking his head.

For the first couple minutes, the sounds in the utility room were muffled and their words could not be discerned. But soon their voices started to grow louder.

“Well, maybe I’ll take that base transfer to Germany, then! And I just won’t be around to ruin everyone’s holidays! I’m sure that’ll make you happy! I won’t be around to bother you anymore!”

“That is not what I meant, Bill!”

Tara stood up from the table and ushered the children into the living room, turning on the television. But even the TV volume couldn’t completely drown out the voices shouting from the small room.

“Do you know how it makes me feel when I see you hugging him? And kissing him? After everything he’s put us through? After what he did to Dana’s life? And to William’s? And there you are, treating Mulder as if he was the same as the rest of us! As if he was your son!”

“He’s as good as my son, and you know it!”

Mulder stared down at the table, feeling embarrassed, his face reddened. Maggie’s kind words made him feel unworthy of such sentiment. Scully placed her hand on his forearm, giving him a gentle squeeze. He looked up and met her gaze, giving her a small smile. Her blue eyes sparkled at him.

“You know what? I’m thrilled beyond belief that Dana got this medical residency! She’s gonna be spending most of her time at that hospital. Maybe she’ll actually meet someone decent who deserves her, and she can finally break free from him once and for all! Maybe she’ll find someone who could’ve _put_ children in that upstairs bedroom where _Mulder_ instead made it empty!”

The utility room door immediately opened and Maggie walked out, red in the face, apparently not wanting to give a reply to Bill Jr’s last words. Everyone else had been stunned into silence. Mulder and Scully’s eyes met, and held. Neither of them knew what to say. Her eyebrows knitted, and he looked at her sadly. Tara gaped in shock at her sister-in-law, and then finally spoke. “Dana… I’m…” She took a deep breath. “Dana, I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Scully closed her eyes, sighing and shaking her head, waving off Tara’s words. No one should apologize for Bill. He should be the one to apologize, and she believed the chances of that were slim to none.

Charlie and Jennifer stood up. “It’s probably time we head back to the motel,” she said. “It’s been snowing, so who knows what the roads are like now. And we should be getting the kids to bed soon.”

Maggie had sat down next to her daughter at the table, her hand at her brow, her posture full of frustration. “I’m so embarrassed. You invited us to your home, and we ruined the holiday for you.”

Scully turned and leaned forward, hugging her mother. “You didn’t ruin it. Honestly, I don’t think I really expected anything different from Bill, unfortunately.”

Nodding, Maggie looked over at Mulder. “I’m so sorry, Fox. The things he said were uncalled for. He feels how he feels, and sadly I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to convince him to feel differently.”

He shook his head sympathetically. “You don’t need to apologize, Mrs. Scully.”

“When are you going to start calling me Maggie, huh? Or Margaret? I think we’re past the ‘Mrs. Scully’ business by now. Okay?” She smiled and stood up from the chair.

Mulder and Scully gave each other warm smiles. As Jennifer and Tara started gathering up their children from the living room, Bill walked out of the utility room carrying everyone’s coats. He spoke to no one, handing out the jackets silently. After putting on his own, he helped his three-year-old twin daughters into their coats. He took their hands in his, and then he walked them out the front door without a word of goodbye to anyone.

Charlie gave Scully a hug and kiss, and shook Mulder’s hand, before walking out the door to start his van. Tara shook her head, tongue thrusting into her cheek, as she zipped up Matthew’s coat. She heaved a sigh as she stood up to face her sister-in-law.

“I don’t know what to say. Bill never should have said those things. I want to say that deep down he doesn’t really feel that way. But…” She sighed again. “I don’t know anymore.”

“Please try not to feel bad, Tara. Bill is… Bill. I hope you’re still coming over in the morning to open presents and spend the day here.”

Tara smiled. “Thanks, Dana. I want to, but…” She hesitated, as if unsure. But then her look became confident. “Yes, we’ll back in the morning. Of course I can’t say for sure about Bill, but me and the kids will definitely be here. He can just wallow in the motel room all day, if that’s how he’d prefer to spend Christmas.”

After goodbyes, Jennifer and Tara stepped out onto the front porch with their kids, their mother-in-law following them. She then turned back to her daughter and Mulder who were standing in the open doorway. “Sorry for just dropping in on you unannounced. I just wanted to see you both so much and didn’t want to wait.”

Scully smiled. “It’s okay, Mom. We understand. And you’ll be back in the morning, right? Oh, and remember to remind Charlie to lock the gate on your way out.”

Maggie nodded. “I will. And yes, I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll make you a nice, big breakfast.” She stepped forward, hugging her daughter. “Goodnight, honey.” She then hugged Mulder. “Goodnight, Fox. I’m glad you’re both doing so well, despite… everything. You both have such a beautiful home. You should feel proud.”

He nodded, giving her a half smile. “Thank you. Goodnight… um, Margaret.”

She smiled wide, beaming at them, before turning and walking off the porch. They watched her get into Charlie and Jennifer’s van, which soon disappeared from view as it made its way down the drive toward the road. They spent the remainder of the evening cleaning up, and then sitting on the couch together. The only lights on in the house belonged to the Christmas tree. They didn’t speak much, Scully cuddled up next to Mulder under a blanket while they watched _It’s a Wonderful Life_ on the TV.

When the movie ended, he took her by the hand and led her upstairs. Once in bed, he stared up at the ceiling while she lay on her side with her back to him. They were both lost in thought. Bill Jr’s words had started to burn in their ears. Mulder didn’t think there was anything he could possibly do or say to change his opinion of him, or to make him finally accept his place in Scully’s life. She felt indignant at what her brother had said about Mulder, about their relationship, and his implied hopes that it would fail.

“Your brother certainly isn’t shy about letting everyone know exactly what he thinks of us.”

“I’m sorry about Bill, Mulder. I hope you don’t take anything he says seriously.”

He sighed, turning on his side and sliding closer to her, his mouth going to her ear. “You mean I’m not your wife?”

She snorted, shaking her head. “He’s a jerk.”

“Do you really think he’ll go to Germany?”

“I… haven’t the slightest idea,” she replied. “He’s never expressed any interest in going overseas.”

Mulder pursed his lips. “Maybe his hatred of me is enough to send him out of the country.”

Rolling her eyes, she sighed. “I don’t like the way he spoke to my mother. I’ve never heard him speak to her like that before.”

He then nuzzled her cheek, remembering. He had immediately noticed, when she’d returned from work earlier, that she’d brought an emotional day home with her. And when he’d asked about it, she didn’t want to talk. He knew her well enough not to push, and to allow her time to process it. Some time had passed, and he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep unless he asked her again.

“Hey, so what happened at work?” he said gently. “You said you had a bad day.”

She swallowed. She knew she should talk about it, that he would want her to share something like that with him. But she just couldn’t bring herself to embark on the subject of Leah Carter and her baby. “Oh, it was just… very stressful, hectic. With the storm and that accident, it was… chaos over there.”

“At least they let you take a week off,” he said.

“Yeah.”

He kissed her and then returned to his side of the bed. The room became quiet again. Scully lay there, tightly pulling the covers up to her chin and listening to the silence, save the sound of her partner’s breathing. She kept trying to forget the scenes from the hospital. But her mind kept drifting to the Carters and that baby, and when she’d push those thoughts away, images of Mulder and William together would rush forward. She fought even harder to ignore _them_ , to resist their paralyzing effect, to keep them deep in the back of her mind, to stop them from resurfacing. Then an image of the closed bedroom door at the end of the hall rose up in front of her, and she quickly buried it. She didn’t want to think about that room. Before finally drifting to sleep, fleeting anxious thoughts crossed her mind, not knowing whether she could handle a whole week inside the house with no work to escape to.

Mulder stared at the ceiling. His thoughts kept going to Bill’s words and the empty room at the end of the hall that now constantly taunted him. Bill Jr certainly blamed him for it, but that was fine. He blamed himself. He was sure everyone else sitting around that dinner table blamed him as well, they were just better at keeping quiet about it. But his stomach knotted at the thought that Scully blamed him, that the empty bedroom would be a constant reminder of his failures. He’d failed as a partner, he’d failed as a father. He lay awake, unable to calm the indescribable sinking feeling. There was a profound feeling of loss starting to eat away at him as well as the gnawing sense of the continuing deep attachment to a son he could never hope to see again. But no matter how much he regretted the choices he’d made in the past, he knew there was no going back.

*****

On Wednesday, the family returned to the house, including Bill Jr. They spent the morning opening presents in front of the Christmas tree. Mulder was a little surprised that they had brought gifts for him. Charlie, Jennifer, and their kids got him several sports movies on DVD and a couple board games. Maggie got him an expensive grooming kit and he joked that maybe he’d get around to growing out a full beard. Scully bought him a cell phone. Inside the card she wrote that all tracking and GPS features had been removed and she’d spent a lot of money on it, so if he destroyed it in a “bout of paranoia” she’d be “really pissed.” He chuckled when reading the card and winked at her. Even Tara had gotten him a present, a book entitled _Scientific Paranormal Investigation: The Proper Procedures and Protocol_ , which elicited a hard look in her direction from her husband. She ignored him.

Scully received several novels, a pair of gold earrings from her mom, and _Caring for the Pediatric Neurosurgery Patient_ from Bill and Tara. When her older brother loudly asked the room why she hadn’t gotten a present from her partner, Mulder replied that they already exchanged gifts privately a few days ago. Her face promptly turned red, she bit her lip, and made an excuse to leave the room for the kitchen. Bill made no reply and, clearing his throat, quickly changed the subject. Scully returned to the living room a couple minutes later with a fresh cup of hot coffee, sharing a smirk with Mulder from across the room.

After all gifts had been opened, Maggie and Tara prepared a big breakfast for everyone. Soon the table was set family style, and held large dishes of scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, home fries, and cinnamon rolls. When they all sat down to eat, breakfast proved much less tense and dramatic a meal than dinner the night before. Although Bill Jr gave off the air of cold stoicism, and sometimes his eyes looked angry, he was mostly quiet. But Scully noticed that he even appeared cold towards their mother, and rebuffed all her attempts at conversation. Maggie would just sigh and then turn her attention toward someone else. Her other two children would then exchange exasperated looks and eyerolls.

Once breakfast was finished, Bill Jr retreated to the living room and turned on the television without a word to anyone. The kids had energy to burn and soon they were running around the house or playing with their new toys. Scully and Jennifer started to clean up after the meal, convincing Maggie and Tara to go relax in the living room, while Mulder and Charlie remained sitting at the table together. They chatted easily, often laughing. The more they laughed, or sent their partners into fits of giggles, the more Bill Jr heaved annoyed sighs on the couch. The louder he sighed, the more they laughed.

At 9:50 am, a cell phone started ringing. Tara walked over to the coat rack, where the sound was coming from, and after a moment pulled the phone from Scully’s right coat pocket. She saw that her sister-in-law was standing at the sink, her hands in hot, soapy water, and so she answered the phone.

“Dana!” she called out. “There’s a Dr. Harding on the phone for you.”

Scully quickly dried her hands on the clean dish towel and walked out of the kitchen, taking the phone from Tara and then turning towards the small hallway. She wondered why she was getting a call on Christmas. She hoped she wasn’t going to be asked to come into work. “Hello?” she said into the phone as she shut the bathroom door behind her.

“Well, that looks promising,” remarked Bill Jr. “Is Dr. Harding single?”

Mulder glared, his jaw clenching.

Tara reached out and smacked the back of her husband’s head, hard.

“Shove it, Bill,” said Charlie.

Inside the small half-bathroom, Anna assured Scully that there wasn’t an emergency and she didn’t need to come into the hospital.

“Big Mac had mentioned that you seemed pretty shaken up about that stillbirth case, and I just wanted to make sure you were doing all right.”

She swallowed, steeling herself, getting the emotions that had suddenly threatened to rise up under control. “Yes, I’m doing fine. It was a rough situation, but… I’m fine.”

Silence. “Well, okay. That’s good, then. I just wanted to be sure. Something like that can really mess with your head. Bad breaks can happen to even the best doctors, the best surgeons, so… you know… don’t get down on yourself or anything.”

She thanked her, and then Anna gave her a run down on how all the patients on their service were doing. Eventually, she was able to get off the phone. When she returned to the kitchen, Mulder and Charlie were gone from the table, and the only kids that remained in the living room were the three girls.

“The boys convinced Mulder to go outside with them and help build a snowman,” said Jennifer. “Charlie’s out back, too.”

Scully walked over to the sink and reached up, pushing the sheer white curtains apart and sending the white venetian blinds to the top of the window. Smiling, she watched Mulder team up with Jack and Matthew while Charlie and Ben worked on their own snowman. The snow was wet and stuck well, and it wasn’t long before the figures of  two snowmen appeared in the back yard. She then saw them move away from the snowmen, disappearing from view, and guessed they were going in search of pine cones, rocks, or sticks to decorate their creations. She stepped over to the kitchen door and lifted the blinds, watching them head towards the mass of trees. When five-year-old Matthew slipped his small gloved hand into Mulder’s larger one, her stomach clenched, strong emotion rising, and she felt tears start to threaten. The blinds swiftly dropped. Regaining control, she turned from the door and joined the rest of her family in the living room.

Later on, she sat at the table with her mother and two sisters-in-law playing Scrabble, while Mulder and Charlie watched television in the living room. Hannah and the twins had fallen asleep on the couch next to Bill Jr, but the boys continued to play around the house or in the back yard.  When the clock struck 3:00, the family started picking up and getting their things together, made a challenge by the children still running around.

“We’ve got a two hour drive back to Alexandria,” Maggie reminded her two eldest grandsons when they groaned at the announcement that it would be time to leave soon. They ran back outside through the kitchen door, and she heaved a sigh.

The house had started to grow colder, and Scully asked Mulder to add more wood to the cast iron stove as she moved towards the staircase. Upon reaching the landing on the second floor, she thought she heard Tara ask Bill if he’d seen Matthew. When she entered her bedroom, she stepped over to her closet, pulling out a black cardigan. After putting it on, she made a brief study of her appearance in the floor-length mirror on the inside of the closet door, before moving towards the hallway.

Just as she crossed the bedroom door threshold, she suddenly heard the sound of a child crying. She glanced down the staircase and listened to the chatter floating up from downstairs. The sound hadn’t come from down there. She then heard it again, a crying child. Her head lifted and she backed away from the landing, turning towards the hallway. She stared down the hall at the closed door, eyes widening, anxiety making her stomach tighten. As she slowly walked down the hallway, the crying continued, and by the time she reached the door her entire body was a mass of tightly strung nerves.

Scully grasped the doorknob, blood pounding in her ears, her mind whirling. As she turned the knob and opened the door, she bit her bottom lip and willed herself not to cry. With the door open, the sound grew louder, but the room was empty. She stood as if rooted in place, breathing hard. Her eyes fell on the closed doors of the closet, and knew the crying to be coming from there. She rushed forward, throwing her arm out to pull open the closet door. Immediately, she registered Matthew sitting on the floor, tears running down his face.

Her eyes widened in shock and she knelt down in front of him. “What are you doing in here?”

“I was playing hide and seek with Ben and Jack,” he said tearfully, his voice choking with emotion. “They told me to go hide and then they’d come find me.”

“How long have you been up here?” she asked, taking him by the hand and helping him up off the closet floor.

He sniffled. “I don’t know. A long time. I think they played a trick on me.”

She sighed, nodding her head and running a hand through his blond hair. “Yeah, I think so. But you know what? My older cousins played tricks on me all the time, too. You’ll just have to figure out a way to get them back.”

Holding onto his hand, she walked quickly towards the hallway, not wanting to spend another minute in that room, and closed the door behind them. Half an hour later, after many thanks, hugs, and goodbyes, Scully’s family departed. Once their vehicles disappeared from view, Mulder closed the front door, heaving a sigh. “Thank _fuck_ that only happens once a year,” he groaned while walking away from the door.

Later that night, they put out all the lights and climbed into bed. Mulder kissed Scully’s forehead and they lay side by side in the dark silence, touching but not speaking. Sleep would not come, even after such a long, tiring day. But the mind was a peculiar thing, and theirs skittered across the events of the past couple days, and even further back, to places and events they’d rather not think about. Strong emotional pain started to rise up inside her, and Scully again fought to regain control, to push it back, to harden herself, burying her feelings deep.

*****

One week later, on January 1st, when William was celebrating his 2nd birthday over 2,000 miles away, Scully’s hard-fought control finally broke. In the chair facing out from one end of the kitchen table, his left forearm resting on top of it, Mulder sat silently while she cried. A flood of emotion washed over him as he watched her, and he gazed at her sadly, feeling helpless. Her elbows on the table as she sat crosswise from him, he watched her cry steadily into her hands for several minutes. He watched her cry until it seemed like she couldn’t possibly cry anymore.

Attempting to check her grief, Scully lowered her hands and wiped the tears from her face. “We have this beautiful home,” she choked. “And… and he should be here. With us.”

Mulder closed his eyes, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “He’s not safe with us. You’ve said it yourself several times. What we did, we did for his own good. We’ll drive ourselves crazy if we start questioning what we did, and why we did it.”

“What do you mean _we_?” she asked. “It was _me_ who sent him away. I did that. Because I couldn’t deal with it. This is my own fault.” She choked on a sob. “If I had just held on longer, if I’d had the strength to stick it out, we could all be together, in this house.” She pointed her finger at her chest, emotion rising in her voice. “ _I_ sent him away. _I_ did. It was _my_ mistake.” In her haze of emotional turmoil, the faces of Leah and Kevin Carter rushed forward. She then covered her face with her hand, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

“You were forced to make a difficult decision because I wasn’t there,” Mulder said quietly. “And that is my fault. I never should’ve left you. Or perhaps when I found a safe home at the reservation, I should’ve come for you and William, and taken you back with me. I’m just as responsible, if not more so, to what happened to our son. But the choice that was made, was made for his safety, his well-being. Who’s to say the choice was wrong? That he isn’t better off away from us?”

She dropped her hand, staring at him. “But we’re safe here, aren’t we? We could’ve had the chance to give our son a good life. Look around our home and tell me that he doesn’t belong here, Mulder.”

He sighed. “Are we safe? And for how long? How long until they figure out I live here with you?” He paused, his worst fear rushing forward to the front of his mind, the fear that usually kept his own grief in check. “If we’d never sent him to a safer home, how long until they would’ve come for him? How long until they took him from us?”

She cried anew, standing up from the table. “But how do we know he’s in a safer place? What if he’s… sick? What if something is wrong with him? What if the family who has him sends him away because he’s… he’s not normal? How will we ever know if he’s all right? He could be out there somewhere, suffering because of what we did.”

Without thought, Mulder moved off the chair and stepped forward, encompassing her with his arms. He felt her heave and twitch against him as she cried. Scully’s hands gripped the shirt covering his chest, his hand caressed the back of her head, his fingers going through her hair.

“Scully, we can’t go down that road,” he whispered, his lips brushing the top of her head. “There was a time when I wanted to get him back, but you were right. A life with us would be too dangerous for him, even here in this house. We have to believe that he’s in a better place, that he’s safe and happy and well cared for. We can’t allow ourselves to start questioning that. It wouldn’t lead us anywhere good.”

She tried to catch her breath, still shuddering sobs. She then stepped out of his embrace, and walked away from him. He could only helplessly stare after her, wanting with every fiber in his being to comfort her, but not knowing how.

And as Wednesday, January 1st, came to a close, Mulder and Scully quietly lay side by side in their darkened bedroom, not speaking, both feeling heartbroken, miserable, and angry at fate. As they drifted to sleep, they both thought of their son and tried to fight back their fears, wondering if he was truly happy and well cared for, wondering if he was truly safe. But while they slept, peaceful dreams of William and a beach filled with warm sunshine provided temporary comfort, smothering their grief and fear with belief and hope.


	150. "Don't give up."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise visitor at Our Lady of Sorrows hospital has a request for Mulder. A patient of Scully's dredges up regretful decisions of the past. A choice is made that will alter their lives permanently. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialogue from the film "The X-Files: I Want to Believe" does not belong to me. It was written by ~~the Anti-Christ~~ Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz. It belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox. Dialogue from the IWTB novelization doesn't belong to me. It was written by Max Allan Collins and based off the film script.
> 
> Sidenote: Well, I'm back. Thank you to everyone who waited patiently for an update. It's been a long time. You will see there's a significant time jump in the story. This is mostly due to me wanting to hurry this thing along, and nothing really happening in their lives that's any different than what I've written before: Scully working and Mulder at home. I have more things to say in the End Notes. Anyway, I hope this will have been worth the wait. 
> 
> Sidenote, Part Deux: Thank you to Tarren (@TheRiverGambit on Twitter), for your feedback, support, and, most of all, your friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mumford & Sons - "Believe"
> 
> You may call it in this evening  
> But you've only lost the night  
> Present all your pretty feelings  
> May they comfort you tonight  
> And I'm climbing over something  
> And I'm running through these walls
> 
> I don't even know if I believe  
> I don't even know if I believe  
> I don't even know if I believe  
> Everything you're trying to say to me
> 
> I had the strangest feeling  
> Your world's not all it seems  
> So tired of misconceiving  
> What else this could've been
> 
> I don't even know if I believe  
> I don't even know if I believe  
> I don't even know if I believe  
> Everything you're trying to say to me
> 
> So open up my eyes  
> Tell me I'm alive  
> This is never gonna go our way  
> If I'm gonna have to guess what's on your mind
> 
> Say something, say something  
> Something like you love me  
> Less you want to move away  
> From the noise of this place
> 
> Well I don't even know if I believe  
> I don't even know if I believe  
> I don't even know if I wanna believe  
> Everything you're trying to say to me
> 
> So open up my eyes  
> Tell me I'm alive  
> This is never gonna go our way  
> If I'm gonna have to guess what's on your mind
> 
> So open up my eyes  
> Tell me I'm alive  
> This is never gonna go our way  
> If I'm gonna have to guess what's on your mind

January 9, 2008

Scully walked out of the conference room and into the hallway. She’d stood in that room, the widened eyes of her colleagues staring at her somewhat in amazement as she’d let the discussion become emotional. Her coolly scientific and professional demeanor had cracked. Now that she’d left the room, she was attempting to compose herself. Her days at Our Lady of Sorrows were challenging as of late. Work in the pediatric neurosurgery field was always a challenge, especially during her last years of residency spent assigned to Dr. Robert “Coals” Collier, but it was becoming more of a personal challenge recently. It had become increasingly difficult to keep her emotions beneath the surface.

The holidays had been low key. Her mother had driven down with Charlie and Jennifer, and their three kids, and spent Christmas with her and Mulder at their house. Bill Jr was stationed in Italy with his family. Tara had called to say hello and express holiday wishes. Her children had gotten on the phone to speak to their grandmother and their cousins. But not a single word from Bill. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard from him. Following their last disastrous Christmas spent all together, his visits and phone calls became infrequent and then soon stopped altogether. In 2005, he accepted a base transfer to Naples when the Navy moved its Europe headquarters there from London. He hadn’t spoken to any of them since, not even her mother.

Scully’s family had departed for home on the 26th and a post-holiday moroseness had then filled the house. Another year gone, another year lived in exile ahead. She missed D.C. She missed her mother’s house. She missed doing anything, anywhere, with Mulder. His existence didn’t expand past their property line and she was starting to worry about it. Day after day spent alone in their house, while she went off each morning to work in a fulfilling career. But the holidays had afforded her a break, and she’d spent a week at home with him.

On the Saturday following Christmas, three days after her family had left, she’d walked into Mulder’s home office and found him on the computer. On one side of the screen there had been a map of several U.S. states with various pinpointed locations. On the other side of the screen was a chat message box.

“What are you up to?” she’d asked him as she placed a glass of iced tea on the desk.

“Oh, just checking up on the latest UFO sightings,” he’d replied. “Trying to discern any noticeable patterns, or any sudden increases in activity.”

Her gut instinct had told her he was looking for William, that he believed there would be some sign out there pointing to their son, wherever he was. She’d wanted to ask him, but was sure the answer she’d get was one she didn’t want to hear. So, she’d kept it to herself. Some things were better left unsaid. Or unasked, in this case.

“Don’t do anything crazy,” she’d said as she turned to walk out of the office.

“Who, me?” He’d smirked at her, his eyes twinkling humorously as she shut the door.

On the morning of New Year’s Day, she’d broken down and cried in the shower. She couldn’t remember the last time she had shed tears, but William’s birthday had hit her like a tsunami wave of emotion. A feeling of quiet sadness hung in the air for the rest of the day. She and Mulder had spoken to each other very little, each lost in their own thoughts. Although the decision about their son had been made during a particularly dangerous time in her life, fraught with doubt and fear, and she’d been forced to make the decision alone, they both had told themselves for many years that it was the best decision for him. They had to believe he was better off, safer, far away from them. No matter how much they might regret it now, there was no going back. He was lost to them forever.

On the morning of January 2nd, she returned to work at the hospital, returned to her patients. One such patient was Christian Fearon, who had been weighing on her mind heavily over the past two months. He was a young boy suffering with a rare brain cancer, and she’d taken an immediate liking to him. He was sweet and gentle, and often left her notes or pictures he had colored. He always signed them, _“For Dr. Scully. Love, Christian.”_

The recent meeting in the conference room concerning his treatment hadn’t gone very well. She’d set up a consultation with a highly regarded pediatric neurosurgeon, but the cold response to Christian’s case was not the one Scully had been hoping for. There was no established, widely-accepted treatment for his cancer, and no one wanted to discuss any radical or experimental options. They’d rather let the boy die than take a chance. They didn’t want to open their minds to extreme possibilities.

Feelings of sorrowful disappointment welled up inside her as she made her way down the hospital corridor, heading toward her office. Before reaching her destination, she walked into the very couple whom she would have most wanted to avoid in that moment. Christian’s parents, Blair and Margaret Fearon, were hovering in the hallway near her office. They were only in their late 20’s, yet they had a haggard and tired look of a much older couple. They spent day and night in the hospital with their son, sometimes taking separate shifts so the other could work and earn a paycheck.

Despite their evident exhaustion, their eyes were bright and they smiled at the sight of her walking towards them. Scully knew they had placed a lot of hope and trust in her. Disappointment again rose up inside, sharp and painful, knotting her stomach. Scully changed her expression and smiled for her young patient. “Hi Christian. How are you feeling?”

“I'm okay, Dr. Scully,” he answered. “How are you?”

“Me? I'm doing just fine.”

With looks of hopeful expectation, his parents then asked about the consultation she’d just come from. As she explained to them that it had resulted in nothing more than the decision to run more tests, she watched the light fade from their eyes. “Dr. Scully, our son has been through dozens of tests already,” Blair Fearon said, frustration evident in each syllable.

Margaret nodded. “It’s time to start treating, don’t you think?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion.

“Yes, very soon,” Scully replied, giving the young couple a smile meant to give them some hope, but not too much. “I’m confident this new round of tests will point us in the right direction.”

Watching their faces fall, she wanted nothing more than to hide away in her office and cry. Again, she fought to keep her composure, to keep her emotions in check, to hide the growing cracks in her professional demeanor. She felt unsure as what else she could say, both to provide reassurance for Christian’s parents and instill confidence in herself. An unexpected interruption saved her from responding further to their disappointment.

“Dana Scully.”

It wasn’t a question. While she didn’t recognize the voice, she recognized the tone. It was one of command, an order to turn around and listen to what this person had to say. She’d heard it often while working in her former career. Despite herself, and fighting the urge to heave an exasperated sigh, she turned around. And sure enough, she knew exactly what she was looking at. She didn’t know this commanding, unsmiling black man standing in front of her, a man in his mid-30’s, a 5’10” package wrapped in a crisp suit. But she instantly knew he was an FBI agent.

“Dr. Scully, I’m looking for Fox Mulder.”

Panic rising inside her like bile, she turned to face Christian’s parents and politely excused herself before stepping away from them and moving down the hall. The agent turned to walk with her.

“I’m Special Agent Mosley Drummy with…”

“I can guess who you’re with,” Scully interrupted him. “The FBI has been looking for Fox Mulder for a long time.”

The agent had a curt, professional manner. “Yes, but old sins can be forgiven. Charges can be dropped and expunged from records.”

Scully could feel her heart racing. Was this a trap? Could Mulder really be set free? “Under what circumstances?” she asked.

Agent Drummy pursed his lips. “The FBI urgently needs to speak with Fox Mulder. They’re hoping you can help them locate him.”

She stopped walking, coming to an abrupt stop in the hallway. The agent stopped as well and they turned to face each other.

“I don’t work with Fox Mulder any longer,” Scully replied. “And I also don’t work with the FBI. I’ve left forensic pathology behind. I’ve chosen to work with the living.”

“That’s good,” the FBI agent said. “Because if there _is_ a way you could contact Fox Mulder, it just might save a life.”

She stared, her curiosity aroused. Did the FBI truly need Mulder’s help?

Agent Drummy’s hard, chiseled features gave nothing away, his expression unreadable. But in his voice, she heard genuine concern. “The life of an _FBI agent_ , Dr. Scully. They _need_ to speak to Fox Mulder. It’s important.”

He handed Scully his business card and then turned to walk away. Scully stared down at the card. Immediately, her thoughts turned to Skinner, Monica, and Doggett, recalling the risks she and Mulder had taken to save the lives of fellow agents, including each other’s. Too many times to count. But was the FBI only playing her? Were they really prepared to drop the charges against Mulder, to expunge his record? Or were they only going to use her to get to him? Was she the bait to get Mulder out in the open and exposed?

The sun was setting as Scully arrived home, turning her Ford Taurus into their driveway. She pulled up to the old metal gate, its paint peeling away, and got out of the running car. The cold air greeted her, a shock to her system after leaving the warmth of her vehicle, and she walked over to unlock the gate. Once she had pushed it open, she stood and looked around. A snow-covered landscape lay in every direction. All was quiet. There were no other vehicles on the road. She heard no footsteps, no tires or helicopters.

She stood for several moments, her stomach filling with nerves. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced in many years, an anxiety that had faded over time. In the passing months and years since they’d moved into the small, unremarkable house, she eventually stopped looking over her shoulder. She stopped wondering if she’d been followed, stopped worrying that they were still in danger. Their home had become a peaceful sanctuary. With a deep feeling of unease, she sensed this was all about to change.

It wasn’t long before Scully was safely back inside the home she shared with Mulder, standing in his office doorway listening to him go on and on about “precognitive states” and “transitory existence” and “conscious awareness.” Some things never change.

Mulder pursed his lips. “But who believes in that crap anymore, Scully?”

She watched him take the article he’d cut from a newspaper and walk over to the farthest wall. He subscribed to over 30 newspapers and magazines, and had a P.O. box in Richmond for this purpose. The post office was close to the hospital, and across from a deli renowned for its sandwiches, and she routinely picked up his mail on Mondays and Thursdays on her lunch break. 

Mulder pinned the clipping to his _I Want To Believe_ poster on the wall. Scully could read the headline: “Princeton Closes ESP Lab After 40 Years of Paranormal Study.” The poster made the dichotomy of the newspaper headline clear.

“You still believe,” she said.

“Do I?” He didn’t know what he believed anymore. Some days he doubted almost everything. His life’s work. The things he’d discovered, the truths he’d uncovered. Was it all just an elaborate hoax? A government scheme? What was truth? Had he only been told lies from the start? Other days, he couldn’t get that invasion date out of his mind. Every year it loomed closer. Every year he felt a little more helpless. Every year he wondered more and more about what role his son might play, at what dangers his son might face in the future. And all because of him. Because of who he was and what he’d done. But there was no hope of ever finding William, certainly not from this tiny office inside a tiny house in the middle of nowhere.

“Well, someone does at the FBI, apparently,” she said, arching her brow, studying him carefully to gauge his response.

Mulder gave her a half smile, fighting the urge to roll his eyes, but her face remained serious and his smile quickly faded.

Scully pursed her lips. “I had a visitor at the hospital today.”

The corners of his eyes tightened. A tight ball of anxiety formed in the pit of his stomach. “I don’t like the sound of this.”

“The FBI came to see me because they need your help, Mulder. To find a missing agent.”

He stared at her, his eyes widening at this information. “I hope you told them to go fuck themselves, Scully. We both know they’d rather see me dead.” 

He moved back to his leather office chair and sat down again. She fully entered the room now, taking the other chair beside the desk and sitting across from him. “The FBI says all is forgiven. They say they’ll drop all the charges against you and expunge your record, if you agree to come in and help them with this case.”

Indignation rose up inside him. His eyes flared, anger flashing in the sea of green. “They’ll forgive _me?_ The FBI put me through an illegal trial, based on bogus charges, and tried to discredit a decade of our work. They should be asking _me_ for _my_ forgiveness.”

“I think they are, Mulder. Desperately.”

He sighed, shrugging. “How could I possibly help these people?”

She locked eyes with him. “It’s an X-File.”

“There is no X-Files anymore, Scully.”

“The X-Files are still there, just no agents handling them right now.”

He thought for several moments, entwining his fingers across his abdomen. “Is Skinner involved?” he finally asked.

She shook her head. “No. The agent in charge of the case is Dakota Whitney.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“I don’t know her either,” she replied. “Same as the agent who came to see me at the hospital, Mosley Drummy. I’d never seen him before.”

He pursed his lips. “I guess that’s comforting.” He heaved a disgusted sigh. “Why _me_ , Scully? Why do they need my help?”

“There’s someone who’s come forward with promising information about this missing agent. A psychic, or so he claims.”

“It’s a trick, Scully. To smoke me out.” It had been nearly six years since that phony trial, nearly six years since they’d faced any real danger since his escape. What was going on that the FBI should suddenly need him to show himself? What were the ulterior motives here?

She sighed. “If the FBI truly wanted to get you, Mulder, I have no doubt that they could. They certainly had no trouble tracking me down at the hospital. Finding us here wouldn’t be difficult. I think they’ve been happy just having you out of their hair.”

Bitterness rose up in his throat. “Good. I’m happy to have them out of mine.” His eyes widened. “Do the words _lethal injection_ ring a bell, Scully?”

She paused, hesitating. She knew it would take more than just the FBI suddenly playing nice to convince him. Motivation would need to come from someplace else. “How long have we been living in this house, Mulder?”

“I don’t know exactly. Five years? A little more?”

“Do you remember when Skinner met us in New Orleans? Would he have told us that I could return to my career if we weren’t safe? It’s what we’ve always said – short of killing you, the FBI is content with you being out of the public eye and not causing them any problems. Your apprehension, with all the media attention it would bring, would do nothing but cause embarrassment for the bureau and the government.”

He lifted a finger to his mouth. “Let’s go over that _short-of-killing-you_ part again, Scully.”

She gestured at the walls covered with newspaper and magazine clippings. “Wouldn’t you like to leave this house sometime, Mulder? Step out into the sunshine and go somewhere? Wouldn’t it be nice if we _both_ could? Together?”

He remained determinedly silent, clenching his jaw.

She pressed further. “There’s a young agent’s life at stake.”

Shrugging, he held up his hands. “That’s not my problem, Scully.”

“Mulder… I know I don’t have to say this, but… this could easily have been you, or me, missing out there somewhere. In need of help.”

He scratched his beard, averting his gaze from hers, his conscience starting to get the better of him.

Closing her eyes, she sighed. “The truth is, Mulder, I worry about you. And the effects of long-term isolation.”

“I’m fine, Scully. I’m happy as a clam here.”

“Really.” She pursed her lips, and looked up at the tiled ceiling, where dozens of stuck pencils hung, tossed up there out of boredom or nervous frustration. She dropped her gaze and looked at him again. “Well, I tried.”

She rose up from her chair, placing her hands on his thighs. She leaned over and kissed him, the caress of her lips sweet and sincere. Her affection soothed him, comforted him. On those days he spent by himself, cooped up in this house he shared with his partner, his existence seemed increasingly bleak. If he was honest with himself, he felt listless and lonely when she was away, and envied her ability to have a career.

He raised his hands, his fingers sinking deep into her long, red hair, holding her tight to his mouth. His mind quickly moved on to better things. He needed this. He needed her. He needed her so badly; it had been sometime before Christmas since he’d last been inside her body. It had been too long since he’d felt her taut nipples in his mouth, or felt her throbbing against his tongue as she came. He wanted to hear her sighs of contentment, her moans of pleasure; he wanted to hear that giggle as her body flutters in orgasmic delight. It had been too long since he’d held her, too long since he’d felt her beneath him, too long since he’d felt her body melt into his.

Scully broke the kiss and stood upright. “I’ll give them your answer,” she said in a slightly defeated tone.

She then turned and walked out of the office, closing the door behind her, and went back out into the living room. Inside the office, Mulder sat deep in thought. His gaze had taken in his _I Want To Believe_ poster and then the closed door, pictures of Samantha and William staring back at him. His sister was smiling, sweet and innocent. Her loss was the reason he had started on his quest for the truth all those years ago, his attempt to reclaim the family he’d lost eventually becoming futile. He couldn’t recover what he’d lost, and instead had formed a family of his own. He’d tried to, anyway. Tried and failed. He’d managed to hang onto Scully, but he’d failed in every other respect. While he believed his sister was in a better place now, safe and free from harm, he found he didn’t have quite the same conviction when he thought about his son.

Mulder stared at the picture of the smiling baby boy with the bright blue eyes. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. Heaving a sigh, he stood up and opened his office door to see his partner standing by the couch. She’d wanted him to agree to help with the case, and he believed it was more for their sake, for the sake of freeing him and getting him out of the house, than for any real benevolence towards the FBI. Sometimes he’d notice the way she looked at him, her eyes filled with pity, sadness. She might even blame herself for the fact he had to stay cooped up in the house, isolated from the outside world, living a life in exile. He didn’t want her to blame herself. He didn’t want her to feel sorry for him, or to worry about him, anymore. He just wanted her to be happy.

“I’ll go,” he said.

Scully turned to see him standing in the doorway. The tone in which he’d agreed had been dry, his expression deadpan, but looking in his eyes she saw she’d won him over. Her sense of unease didn’t lessen though, and only intensified. She hoped she had done the right thing, but she wasn’t sure. Opening the door for the FBI to re-enter their lives, or the idea of Mulder returning to the life they’d left behind, filled her with apprehension.

“But on one condition,” he said.

She stared at him for a moment, and then resigned herself to the inevitable. She knew what the condition was. She knew what the condition would always be. Where one went, the other would follow, for the rest of their lives. “All right,” she said. “I’ll go, too.”

*****

Mulder stepped out of the SUV, and shut the door behind him. For a moment, he watched at Agents Whitney and Drummy turned and drove back down the long driveway. He then walked toward the front porch. Even though it was almost midnight, the lights were still on inside. He was soon inside the house, closing the front door and locking it. He turned to see Scully sitting on the couch in the living room, waiting up for him.

“Well, it’s official,” he said to her by way of greeting, taking off his winter coat and stepping towards the closet. Once his coat had been hung, he moved further into the living room. “I’m a free man. The charges against me are no more. All record of them expunged, regardless of whether or not the FBI finds this missing agent of theirs.”

She gave him a tired smile. “That’s good news. Were you able to help them?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know yet. There’s still more to do. I’ll be going out with the agents tomorrow to the crime scene.”

Her brows furrowed. “Hopefully it won’t take long.”

“I believe we can find her, Scully. I think Father Joe might be the genuine article.”

“Mulder, he’s a pedophile.” She didn’t really want to talk about this. She got up from the couch, intending to head for the stairs.

Sighing, he shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I know, Scully. And I won’t ever excuse or condone what he’s done. But that doesn’t mean he’s not in possession of psychic ability.”

She pursed her lips, nodding silently as she passed him on her way to the stairs.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Upstairs to bed. It’s almost midnight and I have to be up in five hours.”

He shook his head, reaching out to grasp hold of her arm. “We need to run through a drill.”

She heaved an exasperated sigh, rubbing her fingers in the space between her brows. “Mulder…” Several months after they’d moved into their house, after she’d established professional roots at Our Lady of Sorrows and had finished her first training exams, it became clear that this would be their permanent home and they were no longer running from one place to the next. So, he had devised an emergency drill.

While many families commonly put together fire safety drills for their homes or set up plans for natural disasters, Mulder’s was much different. His emergency drill was a concrete plan of action in case the government showed up to assassinate them. They practiced the drill every week for a year. Then every month, every other month, every six months. Eventually the necessity of it became practically obsolete. It had been quite some time since it had last been done.

She turned and stared at him. “Why? You’re no longer a wanted man. There’s no one looking for us. If the FBI wanted to take you down, we’ve certainly given them plenty of opportunity. Why didn’t they just arrest you when we walked into the Hoover Building? Why didn’t they haul your ass off to jail once you met their psychic and gave them your professional opinion? What danger are we in now?”

“I’m not necessarily worried about the FBI,” he said to her. “Certainly not the agents working this case. It’s others who may still be connected with the bureau who may not be too happy that I’ve resurfaced. I want us to be safe here. Scully, _your_ safety is paramount to anything else.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but just as quickly closed it. In his eyes she saw concern, worry, but also something else: the depth of his love and need for her. She softened, and acquiesced. “Okay, Mulder. Let’s do the drill.”

Less than five minutes later, he had slammed the couch against the front door while Scully ran into the kitchen, turning the dining table on its side and grabbing for the pistol hidden away in one of the kitchen cabinet drawers, before ducking down behind the upturned table. Mulder ran up the stairs to their bedroom, making for the pistol kept in his nightstand. He then made his way back down the stairs, weapon drawn in front of him, meeting Scully in the kitchen.

“So, how’d we do?” she asked, getting up off the floor.

He checked his watch and sighed. “We’re rusty.”

They ran the drill two more times, until it had only taken him twenty seconds to join her in the kitchen. Then the couch and dining table were put back into place, doors and windows locked, and lights shut off. Grabbing hold of her hand, Mulder led Scully upstairs to their bedroom. Once pajamas had been donned and teeth brushed, they climbed into bed and she snuggled into his side, sighing contentedly at his warmth.

As they lay in bed some time later, she couldn’t sleep. A tight knot of anxiety had formed in the pit of her stomach. And not just anxiety, fear. They had left the darkness behind them long ago, had left behind the instability, the uncertainty, and the peril of the life they’d once led. Scully lay awake, an arm and leg draped over her partner, her mind unable to shut down, fearing the darkness might soon threaten to close over them again.

*****

January 10, 2008

Scully walked down the corridor of the pediatric unit, straightening her white lab coat over her chocolate brown blouse and skirt. It was almost 8:00 am, and breakfast would be served soon. As she started to pass one of the semi-private rooms, the walls painted sky blue and the beds made up to match with white clouds printed over blue sheets, she peeked in the large window to see that her young patient was awake. Turning from the hallway, she stepped into the room he shared with two other male patients.

“Hi, Christian,” she said, smiling as she approached his bedside. “You’re looking very bright-eyed this morning.”

He was dressed in a dark robe over an elephants-and-clowns hospital gown. His pale face looked up at her. “I was thinking.”

She smiled. “Yeah? What were you thinking?”

“How I’m going to get out of here.”

Averting her eyes, she looked down. She admired his resolve to get better, his courage to face the unfortunate situation he was in. She wanted to exude a hopeful outlook, but fear gnawed at her insides and worry twisted her thoughts into doubts. She had trouble meeting his gaze. “Well, you know, I’m thinking exactly the same thing.”

The young boy nodded. She thought the eyes looking up at her weren’t a child’s eyes. _He had an old soul,_ as Mulder would say.

“Can I get out here soon?” he asked.

A sense of alarm rose within her. There was more than just resolve and courage in his voice. There was fear. He was frightened. She’d never seen that from him before. “What’s wrong, Christian?” she asked, moving toward the foot of the bed to check his medical chart. “Has something scared you?”

The boy nodded. “The way the man is looking at me.”

Scully reached for the medical chart, but the file folder at the end of the bed was empty. Her stomach knotted as she looked at him, her eyes widening. “What man?”

His eyes moved past her and out into the hall. She turned, following his gaze, to see Father Ybarra standing out in the corridor looking over a medical chart which she could only assume belonged to her patient. She turned back around and gave his leg a comforting squeeze. “Don’t be afraid,” she said, giving him a reassuring smile.

Scully then turned and walked out of the room, quickly approaching the administrator. She nodded toward the charts in his hands and gave him a courteous smile, but when she spoke her voice was pointed. “I was just looking for those.”

“Good morning, Dr. Scully,” the priest greeted her. His tone of voice and the expression on his sad face was one of weary hopelessness. He was all compassion resigned for the inevitable, one that offered no sense of hope for something better. “I wanted to go over his chart myself, and of course the results of those expensive tests you ordered.”

She bristled at the audacity, the presumption that violated professional boundaries. “That’s not really your purview, Father; it’s his primary physician’s.”

The administrator finally looked up at her. “It _is_ in my purview to make sure all of my physicians are making the right choices for their patients, and for my hospital.”

She held out her hand. “Can I have the test results, please?”

Father Ybarra looked intently at her, his tone of voice parental and serious. “We are here to heal the sick, not prolong the ordeal of the dying. There are other, better facilities for the boy’s palliative care.”

Scully found she had no logical answer to argue the priest’s position on the matter. However, a falling tray nearby in the hall provided a distraction which allowed her to escape without further discussion. She walked determinedly towards her office, moving quickly down the corridor, hoping not to bump into anyone she knew and forced into conversation.

In her mind, she railed against Father Ybarra and the rest of the hospital administration. This was a Catholic hospital run by men and women of faith, but like the priest, they gave in far too quickly to conventional wisdom and the hospital’s bottom line. He was all too willing to allow children like Christian to pass away like the morning dew, without going above and beyond in pursuit of their survival. The priest would rather mourn and move on than fight for the children in their care.

Tears filled Scully’s eyes as she entered her office, a small, windowless, private space. The cracks in her cool, professional demeanor were widening. She hastily moved behind her desk, removing her white lab coat and sitting down in the leather chair. Blinded by tears, she gathered the charts she’d taken from Father Ybarra with the intent to study their contents. She stared down, unseeing. She couldn’t just let Christian die. She couldn’t give up on him. Like she’d given up on…

With a sense of dawning realization, she knew what lay underneath the cracks. She knew what was locked away behind the steel wall of objective professionalism she constantly displayed, a wall that was becoming more and more difficult to hold up: Guilt. She was prepared to fight tooth and nail for Christian Fearon, and for any other child under her care in the pediatric unit. But there was one child she hadn’t fought for, not truly.

And then the floodgates opened. Burying her face in her hands, she fought back the sobs that threatened to choke her. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She felt the searing pain of raw emotion rise up within her.

“Dana?”

Startled, she looked up to see Dr. Harding standing in the office adjacent, staring at her with concern. To her chagrin, Scully saw that while she’d closed the door to the hallway, she’d paid no mind to the open door to their adjoining offices. “I’m fine, Anna,” she said, her voice just above a whisper, averting her eyes from her colleague.

The blonde doctor stared for a moment before turning and walking out of her own office without another word. Scully began searching through her desk drawers looking for a box of tissues, to no avail. She then turned to her bag on the floor and started ruffling through its contents. She removed several files and set them on top of her desk. Moments later, she found what she was looking for, and pulled out some tissues, before wiping her eyes and nose.

Taking some deep breaths, she regained her composure. She was determined to review the results of Christian’s tests with a clear head and an objective point of view. However, looking down at her desk she saw the FBI insignia on the cover of the folders in front of her. She’d set the files Mulder had given her down on top of her patient’s charts.

Scully picked them up to move them out of the way, but then she paused. She opened them, flipping through the pages, briefly skimming them over. She closed the files, with the purpose of setting them aside and turning her attention to her patient. But a moment later, she opened them again, and this time she began to read.

*****

Mulder trudged through the snow somewhere in rural Virginia, following Agent Moseley Drummy and the supposed psychic, Father Joseph Crissman, around the side of the missing agent’s house, Special Agent Dakota Whitney walking beside him.

The agent glanced at Mulder. “Do you think he’s the real deal? Father Joe?”

He thought for a moment. “It’s clear you do.”

She threw him a challenging look. “Do I?”

Mulder smirked at having trapped her. “I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

“I’m not the most popular girl at the FBI right now for calling you in, believe me,” she said to him.

“You had me at FBI,” he deadpanned. “I was Mr. Popular at the bureau myself. You should see the basement storeroom they kept me in. _Spooky Mulder?_ Sound familiar?”

The agent smiled and shook her head. “But you’ve dealt with psychics before – Luther Lee Boggs, Clyde Bruckman, Gerald Schnauz… I went through those cases, Mulder, and that work was damn impressive.”

He pursed his lips, cocking his head. “Yeah, well… I’m only one half of the team.”

She looked up at him, her eyes squinting in suspicion. “You really mean that, don’t you? That’s not just false modesty.”

“No. Scully keeps me honest, keeps me on my toes. She challenges me, pushes me. And that was necessary to solve those cases. I spent two years working on the X-Files as a solo project, before she was assigned to work with me, and I didn’t get very far in that time. Thankfully she came along when she did. I would’ve achieved very little without her. I owe her everything.”

“Okay, understood. Dana Scully’s record is also very impressive, but it’s _your_ insights I need.”

He nodded silently, and they continued to head across the snow toward Agent Drummy and the priest.

Later that evening, Mulder stood over the stove stirring a pot of tomato soup, the grilled cheese sandwiches he’d made keeping warm in the oven. It was just past 6:00 and he expected Scully home any minute. He was looking forward to her arrival, wanting to tell her all about the events of the day, of Father Joe Crissman crying tears of blood.

Moments later, he heard the familiar sound of Scully’s car in the drive, coming to a stop in front of the house, the shutting of a car door. Mulder smiled, set the wooden spoon aside on the counter and wiped his hands with a dish towel. As he left the kitchen and crossed the living room, heading for the front door, it opened.

Scully stepped inside, wearing her long tan cashmere coat, and closed the door behind her. Once the door had closed, she turned to look at him and gave him a half smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he responded, smiling. But as he drew closer to her, he saw emotion brewing in her eyes as surely as a Virginia rainstorm brewing on the horizon. She’d had a rough day at the hospital. All thoughts of his day’s earlier events that he’d been excited to share with her, of chasing psychics through the snow, faded away.

He stepped closer, taking her coat off her shoulders and hanging it up in the hall closet. “I made dinner,” he said, walking back into the living room.

She smiled. “You did? It smells wonderful.” She stood in front of him, not saying anything further. The weight of the day still hung like a burden on her shoulders.

Mulder then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Long day?” he whispered. Her arms crept around his waist and she laid her cheek against his chest. She could hear his heart beating, and the sound comforted her. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, in hopes to calm the emotions that threatened to break through the surface. He wished she would tell him her thoughts, would share with him what was obviously weighing her down, but he wouldn’t force a confidence from her. She’d talk when she was ready to.

Not long after, they were seated at the dining table. They ate mostly in silence. Scully murmured her appreciation for the hot meal. She didn’t ask about his day spent with the FBI agents. She didn’t inquire after the psychic priest. When she’d walked through their front door earlier, she had brought an emotional day home with her. Mulder could see her mind was clearly on other things.

The enthusiasm she felt for her career in the beginning was starting to wane, it seemed to him. More and more, she clashed with colleagues and administrators. Many times, he’d wondered if she still liked what she did, as it often didn’t appear to make her happy anymore. He also wondered from time to time if she’d chosen pediatrics, not out of true passion, but as some sort of compensation, or retribution, for the past. As much as he wanted to, he could never bring himself to ask her.

He didn’t want her to relive unhappy memories, and he certainly didn’t want her to create new ones. He wanted her to spend her days contentedly, not in a career that had likely turned out to be a form of self-flagellation. He wanted to fill her with good things, with happy memories. He wanted to take her upstairs and make love to her, to pour out his tenderness and affection, to melt away her worries and cares, kept in check by her careful control, to empty her heart and mind of everything except love and pleasure. He wanted to fill her with the strength of his love and passion until they both forgot everything except each other and the heat of the moment.

While they both sat in thoughtful silence, Mulder dipped his remaining grilled cheese sandwich into the bowl of tomato soup and took his last bite. Once he’d drank the last of the soup, he laid his spoon down inside the empty bowl. He then grabbed his napkin and surreptitiously wiped his mouth.

“You missed a spot,” Scully said.

She reached a hand to his lips and wiped the drop of soup on the corner of his mouth, her fingertips grazing his skin. He grasped her wrist in his hand, bringing it to his mouth and slowly drawing her in. Mulder wrapped his lips around her finger and sucked. Her eyes widened, the gentle pressure causing a jolt of arousal to surge through her.

He released her finger as their eyes held, steady and intense. Scully drew her hand back, holding it in her lap as the finger throbbed where he’d tasted her. Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. The silence between them was heavy, the tension thick and palpable it could have been cut with a knife. Mulder’s eyes were clouded over, his pupils dilating with the lust he was trying to control. Silent tension pushed and pulled between them.

Scully closed her eyes and sighed, her mind once again on her young patient. “I have some work I need to look over.” She then stood up from the table, bringing her bowl and plate over to the sink. “Thank you for dinner. It was nice to come home and not have to cook.”

Mulder’s mouth pulled into a firm line as he watched her walk away into the living room. They spent the evening together on the couch. He watched basketball while she sat quietly reading a book. At first, he thought she might be reading for enjoyment, but then noticed the title: _Cell Therapy, Stem Cells, and Brain Repair_. She soon pulled out a notebook and pen, and began taking notes.

At halftime of the Pistons-Spurs game, Scully finally closed her book and laid her pen down, and announced she was heading upstairs to bed. She felt exhausted, and after brushing her teeth and changing into her mauve silk pajamas, she laid down. But as soon as her head hit the pillow, her mind wouldn’t rest. Downstairs, Mulder continued to watch the game through the third quarter, but then shut it off. It was a stinker. He tossed the remote on the couch, walked around checking doors and windows, and went up to their bedroom.

Once undressed and donning a pair of pajama bottoms, he climbed into bed next to Scully. He had assumed she was sleeping, but now that he lay next to her, listening to her breathing, he knew she was still awake. Again, he wondered what was weighing on her mind. Something told him it wasn’t the FBI and its missing agent.

Whatever problem she’d brought home with her from work, she still hadn’t worked through it hours later. He knew he should let her process whatever it was, and if she needed to talk about it, then she eventually would. He laid there in the dark until he couldn’t stand it any longer. Fuck eventually. He’d never get any sleep unless he knew what was bothering her.

“I can feel you thinking,” he gently prompted her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “I can’t sleep.”

He grinned, rolling over to spoon her, his hand grasping her hip. “Actually, I have a little something for that.”

She turned slightly to smirk at him. “Just _a little_ something?”

“Thank you,” he said, smiling into her cheek. “What’s the matter?”

She wanted to say nothing was the matter. She wanted to say she was fine and tell him to go to sleep. She opted for openness instead. “I have a patient, a young boy with a rare brain disease, and he’s very, very sick.”

He could now see this was something she’d been carrying around with her for a while. “Why haven’t you told me about this before?”

“I thought I was on top of it. I thought there was something I could do.” She felt a deep sense of sadness looming over her.

“There’s not?”

“Well, there’s radical treatments, but nobody wants to talk about those. Even the experts say there’s nothing to be done. Nothing but… Nothing but let him die. And that just isn’t acceptable to me. So, I’m lying here, cursing God for all his cruelties.”

He squeezed her tighter, resting his chin on her shoulder. “And do you think God is losing any sleep?”

She sighed. “Why bring a kid into the world just to make him suffer? I don’t know, Mulder. I’ve got such a connection to this boy. I can’t just give up on him and let him die.”

He nodded, understanding. He heard the sadness in her voice, he saw the pain in her face. He knew the real reason why it was there. “How old is he?”

Instantly, she knew what Mulder was implying. She also immediately thought of their son, and his seventh birthday that had just rolled around less than two weeks ago. “You think it’s because of William.”

“I… I think our son left us both with an emptiness that can’t be filled,” he said gently.

They both lay in silence for several moments, thinking of their son, of the events that turned their world upside down over six years ago. He knew she blamed herself for what happened to their son, just as he fully blamed himself. But there was no going back. No matter how often they provided each other with loving reassurances, their feelings of regret and disappointment remained. They could only hope to curtail that feeling of emptiness from feeding into a feeling of hopelessness.  

“Tell you what,” he said, holding her tighter to him. “You go to sleep and I’ll take over. Let _me_ curse God for a while.” He kissed her cheek.

She turned her head and smiled sadly, noticing his strong gaze of love and support. “Thank you.”

Mulder kissed her again, fully on the mouth.

“Scratchy beard,” she giggled.

He smiled, and then playfully caressed his beard across her cheek. She laughed again. He loved that sound. He gave her a lingering kiss on the back of her neck. She smiled at his sweet tenderness. He thought maybe their kiss might turn into something else, hoped he’d be able to show her just how much he loved her. He wanted to melt her worries away with his body. But he listened as the sound of her breathing indicated she was finally starting to fall asleep. Another night, perhaps. He lay on his back and closed his eyes, feeling himself start to doze off when she suddenly spoke again.

“Oh, there was something weird in that toxicology report,” she mumbled, as if a drowsy afterthought. She was about to succumb to sleep any moment and wanted to tell him before she forgot about it.

Once she’d explained what she’d found, that _something weird_ had Mulder bounding out of bed, wide awake. Moments later, she stood outside the open bathroom doorway, watching him shave. She knew what this was, recognizing the pattern of focused intensity as his mind latched onto an obscure clue that would lead him to the correct solution. The tight knot of anxiety was back, forming in the pit of her stomach, and frustration rose in her voice as she tried to talk him down.

Her cell phone rang, interrupting their argument. She returned to the bedroom and reached for her phone on top of her dresser. Not many people knew this number. Her stomach knotted further with a sense of foreboding. A phone call this late at night could mean nothing good. She quickly answered it. She was right. It was the FBI.

*****

January 11, 2008

Three hours after the late-night phone call, Mulder and Scully arrived on the same county road he’d been earlier with the FBI team and the psychic priest. She pulled her silver Ford Taurus off the road where she saw a bustle of activity near a large barn, where black Expeditions were parked, multiple floodlights had been set up, and agents were walking around with purpose. Once they exited the car, they were greeted by Agent Whitney, who gazed at a clean-shaven Mulder for a moment before smiling. The moment was not lost on Scully, whose eyes tightened as she pursed her lips.

After she let them know the missing agent still hadn’t been found, they started to walk with Agent Whitney toward the team of FBI agents searching the ice field. “I’m afraid this is a false alarm. Our psychic led us to the same place he did before.”

They soon approached Agent Drummy, who was standing with Father Joseph Crissman, clearly frustrated at the current situation. He shook his head as he saw them approaching, throwing his arms in the air out of exasperation. “We’re gonna be out here all night and not find anything. We need to bail. Pull the plug.”

Agent Whitney sighed and nodded in agreement. She then glanced at Scully, her look apologetic. “I wouldn’t blame you for being pissed off. I’m sorry for calling you out here.”

Although Agents Whitney and Drummy walked away from them, the FBI team then retreating, Mulder started to question the psychic. Scully groaned inwardly. She felt the priest was just putting on a show. There was nothing about him that seemed genuine to her, not in his demeanor or in his claims of psychic ability. There was nothing that put him in the same league as the number of individuals they’d studied in the X-Files who had convinced her to give some credence to psychic phenomena. Besides, it was past midnight, it would be another three-hour drive back home, and she had to be at the hospital later that morning. The staff meeting was at 8:00 sharp and she knew they were going to discuss Christian Fearon. She didn’t belong out there. And neither did Mulder. Not anymore.

The priest started to walk towards what he was seeing. Mulder stood still, trying to piece things together, and then turned to his partner. “Scully, what does he mean?”

“I don’t really care, Mulder. He’s a phony. Let the FBI do their job. Let’s go home.”

He shook his head, rolling his eyes, and turned to follow Joe Crissman through the snow.

She went after him, tagging along. “Mulder!”

“What?” he demanded, coming to a sudden stop and turning around.

“Stop. Jesus, it’s one in the morning. We have a life to get back to.”

He stared at her. “Okay, feel free to give up like everybody else.”

“This is not my job anymore, Mulder.”

“No, that’s right. That’s right. You’re just like my booking agent now, right?”

She sighed. “You’re right. This is my fault.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “What do you mean, it’s your fault?”

“For getting you involved in this. I thought it would be good for you to get back out into the world again, instead of holed up in that tiny office of yours.”

“No. No. It was the right thing to do, Scully.” He turned again and began walking after the priest.

Strong emotion welled up inside her. “Yes,” she called out to him. “But it wasn’t the right thing for you.”

Mulder stopped in his tracks, turned around and stared at her. She stood her ground, so he walked back. “I know you think Father Joe is a fraud. And you despise him. You have every right to. I despise the things he’s done, too. But I believe him.”

“You _want_ to believe him, Mulder. There’s a difference.”

He stared at her, at a loss as to what to say. He began walking away without another word.

She went after him again, feeling desperate. She didn’t want to say it, but it was the truth and it needed to be said. “This isn’t about finding a missing FBI agent. This is about you trying to find our son.”

Mulder spun around to face her, giving her a blank look. “Our son isn’t lost. He has a new home, a new family to care for him.”

 _Does he?_ The thought came forward unbidden, the frightening question she kept locked away. _Where is he, truly?_ She knew Mulder asked himself these same questions. He had the same doubts, the same fears. But she knew there was nothing to be done. Their son was better off. He wasn’t what the government had thought he was. He was a normal child, living a happy, normal life. She had to believe that for her own sake, and for Mulder’s.

“That hasn’t stopped you from looking for him,” she finally replied. “Stop looking for him. Stop looking for William. You cannot find him. Not now. Not ever.” She knew what all the newspapers were for. She knew he was looking, searching for a sign that pointed to their son and the government conspiracy surrounding him. She knew she’d compelled him to give up the physical search years ago, that she’d forced his hand. She didn’t want to go down that path again.

His eyes flashed anger and resentment, even contempt. Her words were like grenades in his mind. But he held his tongue. He looked past her at Agents Whitney and Drummy’s retreating backs. “Hold up, I need those men back!” he yelled out to them.

Scully furrowed her brows. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to ignore you,” he said, turning away from her before he could say something he’d never be able to take back.

“Because you know I’m right.”

He scoffed, again rolling his eyes. “Talk about an obsession,” he muttered angrily.

She walked after him. “I’m serious, Mulder,” she said, her tone final. “I have been down this road with you too many times. Finding this missing agent is not going to bring William back. It’s not going to fix anything. And I’m not going to do this again. I’m not going to stand by and watch you punish yourself for something you can’t change, for something you can’t ever fix.”

He thought that was the pot calling the kettle black, fighting to keep himself from throwing pediatric neurosurgery in her face. They stared at each other, both knowing they could be reaching a crossroads they might not come back from. The finality of her tone had made her stance on the matter clear. “Then don’t. Just because you’ve given up on him, doesn’t mean that I have to.”

He stalked off into the snow-covered landscape. Scully stood there for a moment, stunned, her heart sinking. After taking a few calming breaths, she trudged off after him. They bickered all the way out to where the priest had stopped in the snow, harsh words and final tones, fighting the way only two people in love who had been together forever could do. As the rest of the FBI team reached them, Mulder and Father Joe Crissman were on their knees digging through the snow. Shovels then arrived, and they soon made a terrible discovery in the ice.

Scully watched in horror. It could be the missing FBI agent. They were unable to tell. She turned away to see the priest standing right next to her. She startled, feeling truly creeped out by this man and took a step back. He stared at her, unblinking, his expression blank.

“Don’t give up,” he said to her.

There was no affectation in his tone, his expression still blank. Scully stared helplessly as he continued to look at her, and something told her this, at least, wasn’t for show. This wasn’t fake. She felt disturbed, a deep feeling of unease settling over her, and she hurried off to join Mulder. She caught up with him near the parking area. He nodded at Agents Whitney and Drummy, and then turned to her. “They’re calling in a forensics team,” he said. “I’m going to stay a while longer.”

“Fine,” she replied, her voice as cold as the night air. “I’m going home. I need to be to work in a few hours. My patients need me.”

“Scully,” he sighed, closing his eyes. “There’s likely a massive amount of evidence here. They’ll need your expertise.”

She shook her head, pulling her car keys from her pocket. “There are plenty of experts at Quantico who can piece the evidence together, Mulder. They don’t need me. _This is not my job anymore_.”

He stared at her, his eyes pleading. “I need you.”

“Then come home with me,” she said softly. “You just broke the case. You said there’s a massive amount of evidence. Let the FBI do their job. They’ll work the case. Just come home.”

“They need my help, Scully. We still might be able to find her alive.”

She looked at him with pity, and sighed her acceptance. “Okay, Mulder. But I’m going home.”

He stared after her, lost in thought, long after the tail lights of her Ford Taurus had disappeared from view.

*****

Mulder walked around a lab at Quantico. The forensic team was busy melting a huge block of ice containing assorted body parts. He’d tried calling Scully multiple times, and only getting her voicemail. He knew she was in the middle of a crisis with her patient, the young boy, but he still wished she’d answer her phone. Or call him back.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t Agent Mulder.”

He knew that voice. That voice that was at once a strange mixture of Southern and New York accents. He turned around, and sure enough, there he was, wearing a navy suit and an FBI name tag. “Agent Doggett.”

John smiled, shoving his hands in the pockets. “I heard some rumors you were back, and I had to see for myself.”

“I’m not an agent, if that’s what you’re thinking,” replied Mulder. “I’m assisting on a case, though.”

“Yeah, I heard. An Agent Bannan is missing.”

The two stared at each other for a moment. “So, you said you heard rumors about me?” Mulder asked. “I wasn't aware you were still working here.”

Doggett nodded. “I’m working out of the New Orleans field office, with Monica. We’re actually on a big case right now. Missing women and children in the Bayou. Over twenty of them, going back some twelve years. Some bodies were found mutilated and weird shit painted on their bodies. You know, strange religious symbols and whatnot.”

Mulder's face contorted into a slight grimace. That sounded like a nightmare of a case.

Doggett arched his brows. "Yeah, gruesome stuff. So, Monica sent me up here to Quantico to talk to some people. She’s thinking it’s a cult of some sort. Got to D.C. yesterday, checked in at headquarters, saw Skinner. And that’s when I heard you were back with the bureau.”

Mulder shook his head. “I’m not back with the bureau. They just needed my help… as a consultant, you could say.”

“I see. Well, it wasn’t the craziest rumor about you that’s roamed the FBI’s hallways.” Doggett cleared his throat. “There were a lot after you and Dana left, after you’d been fired by Kersh. The FBI had railroaded you and made you into their fall guy. You were abducted by aliens, but that was generally told as a joke. You were dead. Again. Or maybe you went deep underground, you know, undercover inside some cult or terrorist group. You’d joined the CIA and became an assassin overseas. You joined a special black ops military operation. You were a mercenary for hire. You name it, people tossed the theory out there. And lots of talk about Agent Scully, too. You had a baby together, but then the baby disappeared or was kidnapped, or the child hadn’t been real at all and it was faked for your mysterious undercover assignment. About once a week, me and Monica would get barraged with these theories in the elevator. After a while, we left D.C. It was in our best interests. Not a single person has mentioned you since we arrived at the New Orleans office. So, of course almost the moment I set foot back inside the Hoover Building, the first thing anyone says to me is something crazy about Fox Mulder.”

He pursed his lips. “The burden of having once been associated with the X-Files, Agent Doggett. So, how’s Skinman? I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Oh, Walter’s good. We went out to that diner down the block, on the corner. Had some pie.” John nodded, giving half a smirk. “So… how is she?”

Hesitating, Mulder thought for a moment. Almost against his will, a pang of jealousy rose up inside him. “Scully is doing fine. She’s practicing medicine in Richmond.”

“That’s good to hear,” he said. “So, are you two still…”

“Yeah.”

Doggett smiled, nodded. “That’s good. I’m glad you’re both doing well, considering everything that happened.”

Mulder wasn’t in the mood to go walking down memory lane. He had work to do. “Well, I’m awfully busy here, Agent Doggett. If you’re ever in Richmond, you can always look Scully up at Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital.”

 _“Our Lady of Sorrows?”_  John replied, his eyebrows raising. “A little on the nose, don’t you think?” He smirked. “All right. I gotta go, too. Got some people to meet about that case. Tell Dana I said hello. And be sure to say it’s from Monica as well.”

He hesitated in the doorway, and then turned around. “You know, if you had still been with the X-Files, I'd probably be up here consulting you instead.”

Mulder sighed and shrugged. “Maybe so.”

“If you’re interested, and feel like taking a trip to New Orleans, another set of eyes and ears on this thing we’re working wouldn't hurt. Since you’re now consulting on FBI cases and all.”

He chewed his tongue. He could imagine Scully’s reaction. “It's only this one time, Agent Doggett.”

John scoffed and gave him a disbelieving look. “Sure it is.”

After Doggett walked out of the lab, Mulder got back on his cell phone. The number he dialed rang and rang. No answer. Once again, he only heard the voicemail recording. He left a detailed message with updated info about evidence they’d found in the ice, hoping his partner would listen. Hoping she could make the necessary connections and help him solve the case.

*****

Later that day, Scully stood outside one of the operating rooms, donned in blue scrubs along with a surgical cap and mask. She was hunched over a table against the wall and reviewing the patient charts as well as the detailed notes she’d made on the procedure. Just before 2:00 pm, Christian Fearon was wheeled in on his gurney. She moved over to see her patient.

“Hi, Christian,” she smiled. “You’ve got a whole bunch of people taking really good care of you today, okay? So, I don’t want you to be scared.”

The young boy stared up at her, giving her a small smile, but remained silent.

There was something he wasn’t saying. “What?”

“Now you look scared,” he said.

Cracks. Cracks in her composed, professional demeanor. She steeled herself before replying. “Let’s make a deal. If you won’t be scared, then I won’t be scared.”

He smiled, and this time it reached his eyes. “It’s a deal.”

The anesthesiologist began to work over her patient as she moved over to the basin and started scrubbing in. The door then opened and in walked Dr. Tom Ryan, also dressed in blue surgical scrubs. “Hey there, troublemaker,” he said in greeting. He winked at some nurses passing through into the operating room. They gazed at his handsome face, grinning as they disappeared behind the doors.

She snorted. “Are you sure you want to do this, Tom?” she asked. “Anna thinks I’m crazy. She says I’m needlessly putting my patient through hell for selfish reasons.”

“Anna never takes any chances,” he responded in his Irish brogue. “Not professionally, anyway. She doesn’t have your balls, pardon the expression. I offered you my support, didn’t I? We sat the parents down together and got them to agree, didn’t we? I told you, I’m all in. I always enjoy watching you come to blows with the administration. It’s been happening a lot lately, wouldn’t you say?” He smirked at her as he approached the basin next to hers and started to scrub his hands and forearms.

“It’s not something I enjoy doing,” she replied. He was right. Over the past year, she had become increasingly dissatisfied with how the administration handled cases, and she was frequently at odds with them. She wanted to change the subject. “Thank you for helping me with this. Not many would be willing to perform this kind of procedure, as evidenced by our meeting this morning.”

He smiled. “As I told you, I’ve done this before. Of course, it was for cerebral palsy and not brain cancer. But it’s better than going in blind. Honestly, I’m surprised you accepted my offer. You’ve always rebuffed my assistance before. They don’t call you the Lone Ranger for nothing.”

Scully rolled her eyes at the ridiculous nickname. The memory of Father Joe Crissman rushed forward. _Don’t give up._ Those words had prompted her to speak up at the morning meeting. To defy Father Ybarra and the rest of the staff, to pursue radical treatment, both costly for the hospital and painful for her patient. Those words had prompted her to see a sign in Dr. Ryan’s friendly offer of assistance and support. But she wasn’t about to explain any of this to her colleague.

She watched through the window as the surgical team readied her young patient. “I just want to have all my bases covered on this one.”

“I can see how important it is to you,” he said.

Moments later, they pushed open the doors to the operating room and stepped inside the sterile environment. Nurses draped them in surgical gowns, they donned their masks and safety glasses, and the procedure began. By the time it had been completed, the afternoon had faded into evening. Still in her scrubs, Scully sat on one of the benches in the doctors’ locker room writing in her notebook. She was exhausted and hoped she’d be able to go home soon, but she wasn’t sure when that would be.

Mulder opened the door to the locker room, stepping inside. He felt bad about their fight the night before, and hoped she still wasn’t angry with him. “People say _I_ went underground,” he said, smirking.

Startled, she looked up from her notes to see him standing there in jeans and a sweater, with a long brown coat over the top. He also looked tired, but his eyes were sharp and bright. “I’m sorry, Mulder,” she said, closing her notebook. He sat down on the bench next to her. “I’m sure you’ve been worried. I’ve had to keep my focus here.”

He took in her scrubs, stained and wrinkled, and then looked up into her face. “It’s the boy, isn’t it?”

She nodded, swallowing. “Yeah.”

He looked at her with concern. “I thought there was nothing to be done.”

“I’m taking a big chance on something, on a radical and extremely painful new procedure.”

“Last night you said that wasn’t an option, a procedure like that.” He considered her, wondering what had happened in the meantime.

Scully averted her eyes. “It wasn’t, last night.”

He leaned into her. “What changed your mind?”

How could she tell him the truth? How could she tell Mulder that the ex-priest she’d been calling a fraud, the one she’d been criticizing him for listening to, gave her a message and so she listened to it? She’d sound like a hypocrite, and an idiot. She only shrugged and shook her head, sighing as she stood up from the bench.

“When will you know if it’s working?” he asked.

“There’s a series of these procedures, and we won’t know until they’re all done. It’s going to take some time.”

Mulder nodded and averted his eyes from hers, nervously playing with his hands. He wanted to tell her about the breaks in the case, about the new missing woman, about the medical I.D. bracelets, and the swimming pool. But after last night, he didn’t want another knock-down, drag-out argument. He debated whether or not to tell her, wrestling with it internally.

Scully watched him. She could tell something was on his mind, that the reason he’d come to the hospital was not solely to check up on her and her patient. “That’s not what you came to talk about it.”

The debate over, Mulder then went into every detail of the case, the woman who’d been run off the road and then disappeared, the clues that connected her to the missing agent. Scully recognized certain aspects of it, piecing things together, and showing interest despite herself, she offered her own line of reasoning and gave him suggestions of leads to pursue.

And then she saw it in his face, in his eyes. He was smiling, excited, almost desperate to get to the bottom of the mystery. “I need you on this with me. It’s starting to come together now, but I need you there with me to solve this thing. I need you to keep me honest.”

“No. No, Mulder.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah. You asked for me to get involved, Scully. Now I’m asking for you to stay involved.”

She walked away from him toward her locked. “Oh, Mulder. You don’t need me. And they don’t need you, either, or your expertise. You helped them already. You broke the case for them. You got them significant leads and findings. Why don’t you just let the FBI pursue it? Let them handle it from here on out.”

“But, Scully, we’re _so_ close now…”

“Not we, Mulder. _They_. And I’m asking you to let it go.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”

She turned to put her stethoscope inside her locker. “No,” she answered softly. “It’s complicated.”

His face fell, and he stared at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Scully sighed, not wanting to look at him. “It means something that I knew would happen, that I’ve been afraid of, that I haven’t had to face until now.”

She was tying his guts into knots. “What? Just say it.”

“I’m a doctor, Mulder,” she said lightly. “Psychic ex-priest pedophiles, severed heads in the ice, abducted women… that’s not my life anymore.”

“I know that,” he answered.

She stared at him. “Do you? I’ve made a choice in my life. I made being a doctor secondary to my career with the FBI, but I’m not with the FBI anymore. That part of my life is over. I’m still seeking the truth, Mulder. I’m still searching for answers. I’m just looking in the light, among the living.”

A sense of dread came over him. “I would never ask you to give that up, Scully. That’s not what I’m saying.”

“You’re not understanding me. I can’t look into the darkness with you anymore, Mulder. I cannot stand what it does to you, or to me.”

“I’m fine with it, Scully. I’m actually okay. I’m good.” He wasn’t sure what she was so worried about. He hadn’t gotten himself into any trouble. He was toeing the line. He was just doing what he did best: connecting the dots and solving the puzzle.

She sighed. “And that’s what scares me.” If he got pulled back into that life, he’d pull her right along with him, and then what would happen to this life, the one they had made for themselves?

Her words cut him, but he covered up the hurt and became defensive. “Where else would you have me look if you want me to find these women alive?”

“I’m asking you to look at _yourself_.”

“Why? I don’t think I’m the one who’s changed.”

She shook her head, her eyes pleading with him to understand. “We’re not FBI anymore, Mulder. We are two people who come home at night, to a home now.” She paused. “Well, I come home. And when I do come back home, to _our_ home, I don’t want that darkness there waiting for me. I can’t live like that.”

They were no longer two solitary people living in separate apartments month to month, apartments that could be abandoned at the drop of a hat. Or the firing of a bullet. They were a couple, sharing a home and life together. They had built something together. They’d grown roots and settled into a comfortable life, something they had once thought impossible. She didn’t want to lose it, like they had lost everything else.

“This is what you do, here at the hospital, and I respect that. But we’re talking about what _I_ do. Scully, this is who I am. It’s who I’ve always been. This is who I was before I met you. It’s what I do. It’s everything I know.”

“Write it down. Put it in a book. You’ve served your time. You’ve paid your dues, Mulder. More than paid them. Tell the world everything you’ve seen and done.”

He smiled sadly. “Are you asking me to give up? I’m back where I belong. Back where _you_ put me.”

She was well aware of the irony. She’d talked him into getting back out there, when he had been content to tell the FBI to go fuck themselves. She wanted him to give up on the case and walk away, knowing that this psychic ex-priest had basically told her the opposite and she’d acted on those words.

“No,” she answered, turning from him. “I can’t tell you to do that, Mulder.” She kept her head down, unable to look at him. “But I can tell you that I won’t be coming along with you. I’ll be staying here. I don’t want to hear anything else about these missing women or your psychic pedophile. I’m putting my foot down. You’re on your own, Mulder. And when we’re at home, I don’t want to hear about severed body parts or about the FBI. It needs to be checked at the door. I don’t want that darkness in my home. But if you insist on talking about these things at home, if you continue to attempt to pull me into this, then I’ll just come back and sleep here in the doctors’ lounge.”

Mulder stared, dumbfounded, feeling as if his heart had dropped into his stomach like a lead weight. It was as if she’d struck him, knocked the wind out of him. Not sleep at home? What was she saying?

“Scully.” He heaved a sigh. He didn’t know how to respond.

She looked at him with sympathy, saddened by the wounded look in his eyes. “I have my own battles to fight right now.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Please don’t argue with me.”

His eyes pleaded with her. “Please don’t do this now.”

She looked up at him, and their eyes held, an intense moment passing between them. “I don’t know what else to do. My patient needs my undivided attention. I need to concentrate on him and his care. His _life_ is in my hands, Mulder. I can’t be running around with you chasing monsters in the dark.”

He was reeling inside. It was clear to Mulder that she wasn’t backing down, not right now. It wasn’t in her to back down on something she believed in. She wasn’t built that way. And neither was he. They were at an impasse. There was nothing more to be said in that moment.

Scully hoped he hadn’t taken what she said as a threat, or an ultimatum. She needed to focus on Christian right now. And nothing short of drawing a line and maintaining her position on one side of it was going to stop Mulder from trying to pull her back into that old life. He’d push and push, and persuade until she couldn’t resist any longer, and she’d be right back there standing next to him, looking at all sorts of evil in the face. The only way to keep her focus on where it needed to be was to enforce some strict boundaries. She had only meant it as a temporary solution, just until the FBI case was closed. But the look on his face, she knew he’d taken it much more seriously than that.

He shook his head, shrugging, not knowing what to do or say. “Well, good luck, then.” He left quickly, wanting to escape the suffocating locker room, a lump growing in his throat.

*****

January 12, 2008

It was after midnight. Scully had fallen asleep on the couch while waiting up for Mulder to come home. The sound of a car door closing woke her. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the darkened living room. The light above the kitchen sink was on, but it only illuminated so much of the downstairs. She listened to the sound of footsteps on the porch, heard the lock turning, and watched as the front door opened.

Mulder immediately noticed her lying on the couch, a fleece blanket draped over her. He walked over to the hall closet and quietly hung up his coat. He returned to the living room, moving over to the couch and kicking off his shoes. Without a word, Scully lifted the blanket and scooted back until her rear was flush against the back of the sofa. He lay on the couch next to her, and she spread the blanket over their bodies. For several minutes neither of them spoke.

She could tell behind his cool and calm façade he was suffering. “What is it, Mulder?” she whispered. “Tell me.”

“This isn’t something you want to hear,” he said, his eyes tightened and his jaw clenched. “You said so earlier.”

She reached up and touched his face, her fingers soft and warm, caressing the side of his jaw, his cheek. His look softened and he closed his eyes. He seemed exhausted in every possible way, physically, mentally, emotionally. She wanted to profess her unconditional love and support, she wanted to forget the fighting and the tension. “It’s okay,” she whispered gently. “It’s okay, Mulder. I want you to tell me.”

He opened his eyes and gazed at her. “Monica Bannan is dead.” He paused. “Agent Whitney is dead. Killed.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, Mulder. That’s awful.”

“We were so close. I almost had him, our suspect. And now another agent is dead. I thought we were winning, Scully.”

“I know you did, Mulder.” For a moment, she thought that _we_ had been Mulder and Dakota Whitney, not Mulder and Scully. She felt a strange pang of jealousy. She suddenly realized she’d always have that pull to look into the dark with Mulder, to search for truths fugitive and imponderable, to explain the unexplained, and the idea that he would ever embark on a quest with anyone other than her knotted her stomach.

“Scully, I’m sorry. For everything. But there’s still another woman missing, and she might still be alive. Everyone wants to give up. But if she’s still alive? I have to try and find her. And don’t worry, I can keep you out if it. I know where you’re coming from, and I think I understand your reasons.”

She pulled her hand away from his face. “I know you have to try, Mulder. You think I don’t understand, but I do. I know you. You’re relentless. You don’t ever give up. You never have, and you never will. It’s one reason why I fell in love with you.”

He sighed. “It’s also why we’re not… compatible right now, or… not getting along or whatever.” In years past, their work had always been what bonded them together. But their bond had grown much stronger than the work itself, it was something everlasting, transcending case files and long nights holed up in a basement office. But were they so far removed from those years that the work could now be what divided them?

She considered him a moment. “I can’t be both, Mulder. I can’t return to the FBI persona without abandoning my present work. I can’t be what you need me to be and still give my patients everything I have. I can’t do my utmost to fight on behalf of the children in my care, to advocate for them, and simultaneously devote the kind of time and attention you need from me to help you with this. I’m thankful you’re free, no longer having to hide yourself away, but I just want this case to be over so we can return to our peaceful existence before the FBI interrupted our lives.”

He swallowed against the lump growing in his throat. “Scully, I can’t lose you over this,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

She gazed at him, at his chin quivering, his lips pursing. She returned her hand to his face, the backs of her fingers gently caressing his stubbled cheek. “You won’t lose me, Mulder. Not now. Not ever.”

He heaved a shaky sigh of relief, his eyes pricking with hot tears. He slid down a few inches and pressed his face into her neck, breathing in her scent. He slid his hand beneath her shirt, feeling the warmth of her silky skin. She slipped her leg over his and pressed closer. He moved his hand to her waist and undid the button on her pants, taking the zipper down. His hand went to her stomach and his fingertips traced her ribs to the underside of her breast. She breathed a sigh of contentment. He quickly discovered she wasn’t wearing a bra. He kissed her cheeks, eyelids, earlobes, temples. He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her softly, sweetly. Nuzzling her throat, he covered the mound of her breast with his hand and her nipple pebbled against his palm. And that was the moment she fell asleep. He chuckled to himself, and let his heavy eyelids close, slowly falling to sleep as he listened to the lulling sound of her deep breathing.

The last thing Scully remembered before she drifted to sleep was Mulder’s hand gently caressing her skin.

_She was sitting on a beach again. She knew this beach. She’d been here many times before. But she couldn’t remember the time she’d been here, it was so long ago. A salty breeze filled the air, and the sun was warm. Mulder was sitting on his knees, wearing blue jeans and a heather gray t-shirt, his bare feet in the sand. An eight-year-old William was next to him, his hands gathering wet sand and spreading it on the large UFO they were making. She watched them while sitting on the grass and sinking her toes into the warm sand, feeling nothing but peaceful contentment._

_Mulder looked over at her and smiled, before giving her a familiar wink. Smiling in return, she then turned her gaze back to her son. He was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, sneakers on his feet. His light brown hair glistened with red copper highlights in the sunshine. He looked like any other normal child spending the day at the beach with his parents. Mulder and William talked and laughed, happily working together side by side._

_Her son then turned and looked at her, gazing at her for a moment. She smiled, and he left the sand UFO behind, walking towards her. He then stood in front of her, and she reached out to take his hands, holding them in hers._

_“Why won’t you help me with the spaceship?” he asked, his eyes and tone of voice earnest._

_She smiled. “William, your father is helping you. You don’t need me.”_

_He stared at her for a moment. “Yes, I do need you. I need your help.”_

_“How can I help you?” she asked._

_“Don’t give up,” William replied._

She awoke to the sound of her cell phone ringing. Her dream was fading, but she could recall something. _Don’t give up._ She saw it was early morning, the cold light of dawn stealing into the living room from behind the curtains. She was alone on the couch, and wondered if Mulder had gone upstairs to bed. She sat up and reached for her phone atop the coffee table.

“Scully.”

A voice on the other end laughed. “Dana? Is that how you always answer your mobile?”

She recognized the Irish brogue. “Hello, Tom. Why are you calling me? How did you get my number?”

“Anna gave it to me,” he answered. “Don’t get so touchy. I’m ringing you because Father Ybarra spoke to the parents of your patient and found out they’d changed their minds about stopping his treatment. They don’t want to give up. They want to keep trying. He sounded real bullin. I wanted to forewarn you. You might have another battle on your hands when you get here.”

She remembered the conversation with Blair and Margaret Fearon yesterday before she left work, remembered convincing them to continue Christian’s treatment. “Thanks for the heads up. I should be in soon.”

“Say, who was that who showed up at the hospital to see you?” Dr. Ryan asked, his voice full of amusement. “I didn’t know you had a fella.”

“Yes, he’s my partner,” she answered.

He laughed in disbelief. “ _Partner?_ How long you had _him?”_

She sighed, impatient for the conversation to end. “Almost 15 years now. Look, I’ll be in to work shortly. Thanks for calling.” She hung up the phone and made her way upstairs to shower and change. Mulder wasn’t upstairs either. Had he gone outside for something?

Forty-five minutes later, she was walking out the front door to her car, only to find that it was gone. She paused, staring at where her car had been parked the night before, an anxious feeling growing inside her. It was clear to her that without Agent Whitney, the FBI wouldn’t have any interest in Mulder’s assistance. She’d also got the sense last night from his defeated demeanor that the FBI case had stalled out, despite this other missing woman. Had he gone off on his own? She tried and failed to tell herself that he wouldn’t do that. She pulled out her cell phone and punched in the number to the FBI, a number she’d taken out of her speed dial six years ago.

Later on, well into the evening, Scully was standing on the side of a country road in the middle of nowhere Virginia, watching a tow truck crane her silver Ford Taurus off the snow-covered ground. Her heart was pounding in her throat.

“I’m Dana Scully,” she said to the young uniformed police officer. “That’s my car.”

“Right,” the officer said. “I’ve got your name. I already spoke to some bigwig at the FBI who called from Washington.”

She turned to see the man getting out of the driver’s side of the SUV she’d arrived in. “Yeah, that’s him. Walter Skinner.”

The officer then held up a cell phone in his hand. Something dark reddish was crusted on the earpiece. “This was found in the snowbank. Must’ve been thrown from the car.”

She took the phone from his hand, her eyes widening. She turned as Skinner approached. “The officer found this. It’s Mulder’s phone,” she said, moving closer to him. A sense of alarm tightened her stomach. “It’s got blood on it.” Her breath lodged in her throat and her heart pounded painfully in her chest. She was on the verge of tears.

Skinner firmly by gently took her by the shoulders. “Dana, listen to me. He’s okay. He’s got to be. Just calm down for a minute. Stop and think. Take in the scene. Be an investigator again. Mulder climbed out of there somehow. We just need to figure out where he went.”

She knew he was right, but how was she supposed to calm down? She felt as if she was about to hyperventilate. She swallowed against the lump in her throat and took a deep, steadying breath. She nodded and turned back, considering the wreck of her car being pulled up by the tow truck, and then she began to study, to look, and to think.

*****

The rural Virginia compound was bustling with activity, lights flashing from every direction. The lot was filled with state police cruisers, ambulances, and FBI sedans. Mulder sat huddled with a blanket inside an ambulance, his legs hanging out the back. His head ached and his mind felt foggy. Despite the warm blanket, he felt freezing. An EMT stood next to him, checking him for serious injury. Scully approached the emergency vehicle, her tan coat hugging her body as she walked towards him.

“The girl is going to make it, Mulder,” she said after stopping in front of him and the EMT. “Although I can’t say the same for the man inside.”

“That’s to be expected when your head is detached from your body,” he snarked.

She pursed her lips, fighting a smirk. “They’re loading the young woman in the other ambulance as we speak. You saved her.”

He shook his head. “I just found her. _You_ saved her, Scully. And me.”

“Yes, I did.” She found she wasn’t ready to talk about the situation. Mulder ran off on his own, half-cocked, only to find himself in mortal danger, and she was lucky enough to find him. How many times had she been here, in a situation just like this? Too many to count. When would it end? Someday their luck would run out.

Mulder watched her face intently, and he could guess what she was thinking. He’d gone and done just what she feared he would do, and they’d ended up in the exact position she’d been fighting to avoid. “I thought I was hallucinating,” he told her. “I wondered if I was dying, my oxygen-denied brain only imagining you were there, hovering over me, holding my head in your hands.”

Raw emotion rose up inside, threatening to choke her with tears, and she averted her eyes from his. What if she’d been too late? What if she’d arrived only to find him dead? She couldn’t believe she was back here, back where she’d never wanted to be again.

“Yeah, well, you took a pretty hard hit to the head,” the EMT responded before she could find the words to reply. “Back there and when you had the car accident earlier as well.”

“Oh, and they also injected me with something,” he said. “Animal tranquilizer, I think.”

Skinner’s hands went to his hips, shaking his head.

The EMT’s eyes widened. “What?”

She stared. “Acepromazine?”

Nodding, he sighed, which turned into a shiver and he hugged the blanket tighter around him. “I still feel kinda groggy.”

“You’re going to the ER, Mulder.”

“Scully…” He closed his eyes. “I’m fine.”

Her face hardened, her voice becoming stern. “You’re not in any position to argue with me. You’re going.”

Skinner’s phone rang and he turned from them to answer it, moving slightly away from them.

He was then loaded fully inside the back of the ambulance, the EMT and her partner checking his vital signs. Several moments later, they were ready to close the doors. Mulder sat up. “You’re coming with me, right?”

“No,” she answered. She swallowed and took a deep breath. “I’ll have Skinner drive me. I’ll be just a few minutes behind you.” She turned to the EMT. “Take him to Our Lady of Sorrows in Richmond, please.”

Skinner started to walk back towards Scully. “Yeah, he’s on his way to the hospital now. The one where Dana works.” He then said goodbye and pressed the End button.

Scully stood with her former boss and watched the ambulance drive away, before turning around and making her way back inside with Skinner to speak to the rest of the assembled FBI team of agents and forensic analysts. They questioned her on the illegal medical procedures that had been going on there and what she’d done to rectify the situation, the actions she’d taken to save the victim. Fifteen minutes later, she and Skinner were on the road heading for the hospital.

Just over half an hour later, they were walking through the emergency room doors. Several of the nursing staff recognized her, nodding and saying “Dr. Scully” as she walked past. She and Skinner were soon shown to one of the exam rooms, where Mulder was lying in bed hooked up to IV fluids and being examined by a doctor. A nurse was also in the room.

“Dr. Scully,” the ER physician greeted her first. “Mr. Mulder here told us to expect you.”

She looked at her partner, and he nodded. Turning his head, he saw Skinner hovering against the wall. Scully stood next to his bed, her attention on the ER doctor. He suddenly had a strong sensation of déjà vu.

“Dr. Baskin,” she greeted him, approaching the bedside. “How is he doing?”

The doctor smiled. “He’s doing all right, as far as we can tell right now. We’re running some tests and want to keep him under observation in case he has any adverse effects to the acepromazine.”

She nodded. “Hopefully not.”

“In my opinion, I think he’ll be fine. We just want to be sure.” He handed the chart he was holding to the nurse. “Shouldn’t be too long before we can get you guys out of here.” He smiled again, his eyes lingering on her face. “Good to see you, Dana,” he said, before walking out of the exam room.

She turned to her partner. “How are you feeling, Mulder?”

He sighed, his eyelids becoming heaver. “I’m exhausted.” He stared up at her. “I’m sorry, Scully. And not just for your car. All of it. I’m sorry.”

“I know, Mulder,” she replied, averting her gaze from his earnest one.

Skinner glanced between them. They no longer worked for him. He was no longer their boss. But he had been much more than just a boss to Scully and Mulder. He hadn’t seen or spoken to either of them for quite a long time, going on two years now. He understood the many reasons why, both practical and complicated. He felt he should leave, and let them return to their quiet civilian life.

He moved to the bedside. “I’m glad you’re alive, Mulder. Don’t do anything crazy like that again.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied. “Thanks for everything.”

Skinner turned to Scully. “Call me anytime you need anything. I’ll do whatever I can.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Walter.”

He gave them both a silent nod, and then turned and left the exam room, leaving Mulder and Scully alone. She sighed and sat down in the chair next to the bed. She stared down at the folded hands in her lap, not knowing exactly what to say. She felt at a loss, and remained silent.

“Please say something,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “You’re making me nervous.”

“How many times have we been here, Mulder?”

He chewed his bottom lip. “I lost count a long time ago, Scully.”

She crossed her legs, fixing him with a stern look. “What if you had been killed? Do you know what that would have done to me?”

“Yes, I do. Because I know what it would do to me if it was the other way around.”

“I thought we were in the clear,” she said. “That we had put these horrors behind us. Mulder, losing you would be unbearable. You know what it would do to me. You _know_ what it had done to me in the past. Yet, at the first opportunity, you’re ready and willing to deliberately put yourself in harm’s way.” Emotion rose up inside her again, her eyes filling with tears as she tried in vain to maintain her composure. “Working for the FBI cost us the lives of my sister and your father. It cost us our privacy, our dignity, our health, our personal safety, our freedom. It cost us our son, Mulder. We lost _everything_.” Her voice broke, and she let out a shaky bready.

He closed his eyes, sighing. What could he say? She was right.

She hastily wiped the tears from her cheeks. “But none of that is apparently enough to stop you from running towards the darkness again, instead of away from it. None of that is even enough to make you pause long enough to think about your actions and their consequences.”

He opened his eyes and stared at her. “Are you disappointed we found that girl alive and saved her?”

“Of course not, Mulder.”

“Scully, do you think _anyone_ at the FBI, other than you and me, could have found that girl alive, if at all?” he asked. “Is there anyone out there who will ask the questions we ask? Who will look for the answers in places everyone else ignores? Is there anyone out there who can do what we do?”

She knew what he was getting at. She chewed her tongue, fighting back more tears. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this torn between her head and her heart. The best years of her life had been working alongside Mulder on the X-Files. Their work had saved countless lives. The things she’d seen and done had been beyond her wildest dreams, had given her a sense of real meaning, had opened her eyes to the world around her, a world she’d been blind to. Eventually the personal cost had become too high. She’d been unable to give him children, a family, something that could have grounded him and filled his life with new meaning when the work was done. Instead he was banished from public view, isolated, spending his days alone inside a small home office. She spent her days at the hospital, long hours of separation, and they were no longer joined together with a singular purpose. The emptiness he had alluded to the other night, that could never be filled, was caused by more than just the loss of their son.

“You miss our work just as much as I do, Scully,” he whispered gently. “I know you do.”

She began to cry in earnest, her voice breaking on a sob. “But I can’t live like that anymore, Mulder.”

He wanted to tell her that her true calling didn’t lie in pediatric neurosurgery. It didn’t lie in tending to patients in a stale hospital day after day. He believed they’d been fated for something far greater, a work with a much larger meaning and purpose, something much more than either had ever expected. They’d managed to make a settled quiet life work for a few years, but how long would that hold out? It was clear to him the dangerous life they’d left behind still needed them. If they weren’t going to shine their light into the dark places in the world, if they weren’t going to chase its monsters away, then who would? What was at stake, what were they risking, by ignoring their fate and keeping their heads in the sand?

Suddenly an awful memory came forward, unbidden. New Mexico. Cancer Man, speaking resentfully, the last time they had seen him alive.

 _“I gave you the power to fight, the power to save mankind. Did you know that, Agent Scully? I gave you the key to everything, mankind’s only hope, and you threw it away. It could’ve been my legacy. But_ you gave up _. And now you can watch the world burn, knowing you’re the cause.”_

The implications about William were certainly unsettling, and that 2012 date loomed in front of him. Returning to the work, seizing control of his fate, and finding a way to prevent global disaster was a strong driving force in his mind. But despite whatever he might believe about their son, the future, and their possible role in shaping it, he believed in something much stronger and relevant to his life in the present: his relationship with Scully.

Mulder sighed and considered his former X-Files partner, his forever life partner. Sitting beside him now, wiping the tears from her face, she seemed so small and vulnerable, even though he knew just how much strength and power she possessed inside her petite frame. She had wanted him to get involved in this case, and because of that he had insisted that she join him. They were a team. They carried a piece of each other in their hearts, in their souls, and would never have survived without each other. They were two halves of a whole. They always had been. But his insistence that she come along had reunited her with the symbol of authority whose secrets and treacheries had devastated her life.

Being back in Washington, D.C., seeing the capital skyline at night via an FBI helicopter, the familiar landmarks and lights still giving him a thrill all these years later, had been enough to enliven Mulder. Stepping back inside the Hoover Building had given him a surge of anxious excitement. Despite the nightmarish things he had seen while working the X-Files, despite the horrible events that happened, the tragedies suffered and endured, being back in the field and working a case felt like coming home to him. Yet those nightmarish things couldn’t be ignored, the horrible events dismissed, or the tragedies forgotten. Nor could he ever ignore, dismiss, or forget just what they had cost Scully.

He reached out his hand to her. She sniffled, took a calming breath, and laid her hand in his outstretched palm. “You are more important to me than anything. I promise this will never happen again. I don’t need the X-Files. I don’t need our work. As long as I’ve got you, I have what I need. Without you, I have nothing.”

“And you can give up and walk away, just like that?” she asked. “Even if tomorrow another case dropped in your lap and you were compelled to get involved?”

“I’m not giving up, Scully. I’m choosing you. I’m choosing our life together. Nothing is worth the risk of losing what we have left. We’ve already lost so much.” It was clear to Mulder that she wasn’t ready to revisit the past, to accept the harsh truths that still bind them together in dangerous purpose. Those truths would confront them one day, and he could only hope when that day arrived she would be willing to accept it.

She moved her chair closer, and then leaned over to lay her head on his chest. He brought his hand up, gently stroking her hair. Half an hour later, there was a knock on the door. He stared as the door opened. She turned and watched the door open, expecting Dr. Baskin. When she saw who stepped into the exam room, her eyes widened in surprise.

The FBI agent closed the door behind him, taking in the sight of Fox Mulder in the hospital bed and Dana Scully sitting in the chair next to it, holding his hand. “Just like old times,” he quipped, grinning.

Her heart swelled at the sight of him and she stood up, quickly moving towards him. “John!”

Doggett smiled and wrapped his arms around her in a friendly hug. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“How did you know we were here?” she asked, pulling out of the hug.

“Skinner called me,” he answered. “So, I drove down here from Quantico. I can’t say I’m shocked that FBI case ended like this for Mulder. In the hospital.” He turned to look at the former agent, shaking his head. “Like moth to a flame.”

Scully arched her brow, thrusting her tongue into her cheek, and said nothing.

Mulder sighed, trying not to roll his eyes. “Nice to see you again, Agent Doggett.”

“I’m just glad to see you’re all right,” he replied. “For Dana’s sake.” He smirked. “I remember years ago I once asked you how long you were gonna keep this up, when would it ever end. And do you remember what you said to me? _Maybe it doesn’t._ Well, that’s clear as glass.”

“It ends now, Agent Doggett. I told you I was only helping out this one time.”

He pursed his lips. “Sure. Well, have you given anymore thought on visiting New Orleans? The folks at Quantico weren’t much help. They dismissed Monica’s cult theory without too much thought, and even I think that’s the most logical answer. We really could use your help finding those women and children in the Bayou, and hopefully prevent any others from disappearing. Honestly, there aren’t many in law enforcement who think like you, if there are any at all. Same goes for Dana, here.”

She sighed and returned to her chair. “Missing women and children?”

Mulder shook his head. “Pay no mind, Scully. It’s just a case he’s working on with Agent Reyes. It doesn’t concern us.”

Doggett shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Well… I should get going. I got a plane to catch tonight out of Dulles. I just wanted to check in with you, make sure you were okay. It was good to see you both. It’s been a long time.”

Mulder nodded. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Scully got up from her chair and walked with him out of the exam room. “Tell Monica I said hello.”

“I will,” he replied, giving her another smile.

“If you two are ever in Richmond, you should come by and see us sometime,” she said. “Maybe we could have you over for dinner, or something.”

Doggett chuckled. “How domestic of you.” His face then grew more serious. “I’d like that. If we’re ever in town, we’ll give you a call. And if you’re ever in New Orleans, be sure to look us up.”

She smiled. “We will.” Scully watched as John Doggett walked through the emergency room, heading for the automatic doors that led out to the parking lot, wondering about missing women and children, cults, and hoping he could solve the case. She thought of Mulder, of how many lives he could possibly save, if she wasn’t holding him back. The familiar emptiness welled up inside her, unsure of what tomorrow would bring.

After making a quick visit upstairs to check Christian Fearon’s chart, anxious butterflies fluttering in the pit of her stomach as she remembered his second procedure scheduled for the next day, she returned to the emergency room. She stepped inside Mulder’s exam room to see Dr. Baskin there, speaking with him as he sat on the edge of the bed.

The physician turned at the sound of her entering the room. “Oh, Dr. Scully. I was just telling Mr. Mulder that his test results came back fine and he’s ready to discharge.”

“Great,” she replied.

“I’ll have the paperwork ready to go at the desk, just stop by on your way out,” said Dr. Baskin, before leaving the room.

Scully turned to her partner, watching him stand up. Mulder nodded, giving her a slight smile. “Let’s go home.”

She smiled and held out her hand. He grasped it in his own, and together they walked out of the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this back in early December and had hoped I would get to surprise you all on Christmas. Well, best laid plans and all that. What I started writing looked nothing like what you saw here. That early draft was then saved and moved to a later chapter. I started over. What I wrote next also became a different chapter. I started over again. This is the 3rd attempt to write this update. Now, about the time jump. I could have continued the saga of Scully's residency just for the sake of writing more interesting (to me, anyway) medical drama, but that's not what this story is about. It's about Mulder and Scully's relationship. I gotta keep this thing moving in a progressive manner or I'll be writing this fic for the next 10 years. I wanna get going on the post-IWTB good stuff. So, nothing all that significant happened to them in the few years I skipped. Just everyday life. Nothing happened that moved the plot forward in any way. Not until IWTB.
> 
> So, I have some issues with IWTB. Some of it is the illogical character choices. Mostly it's the subject matter of the movie itself. I didn't want to write about Poor Pedo Joe the Castrated Hero. I didn't want to write about Amanda Peet's lazy attempts at flirting. I didn't want to write about a happily married gay couple who end up... you know what, I'm not even going there. I know some really like IWTB, and others not so much. But I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations. Also, don't be concerned that a certain schmoopy Unremarkable House scene and Happy-Hawaii-Ending aren't included here. Stay tuned.


	151. "It’s a place I always wanted to go, what I anticipate to be a spiritual journey."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully contemplate the events of the past few days. On vacation in Hawaii, they finally take some time for themselves.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.
> 
> Disclaimer: The dialogue from the film "The X-Files: I Want to Believe" does not belong to me. It was written by ~~a dude obsessed with female reproductive organs~~ Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz. It belongs to 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox. Dialogue from the IWTB novelization doesn't belong to me. It was written by Max Allan Collins and based off the film script.
> 
> Sidenote: So, this chapter was mostly written before I wrote the previous chapter. I had briefly toyed with the idea of skipping IWTB altogether and picking up the story in Hawaii. I started writing as soon as those S11 promos came out featuring Mulder and Scully's banter in what we now know is from the episode "This." I hope you like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depeche Mode - "In Chains"
> 
> The way you move  
> Has got me yearning  
> The way you move  
> Has left me burning  
> I know you know what you're doing to me  
> I know my hands will never be free  
> I know what it's like to be  
> In chains
> 
> The way you move  
> Is meant to haunt me  
> The way you move  
> To tempt and taunt me  
> I know you knew on the day you were born  
> I know somehow I should have been warned  
> I know I walk every midnight till dawn  
> In chains
> 
> In chains, I'm in chains  
> In chains, I'm in chains 
> 
> You've got me dying for you  
> It's you that I'm living through  
> You've got me praying to you  
> Saying to you  
> Anything you want me to  
> You've got me reaching for you  
> My soul's beseeching me to  
> You've got me singing to you  
> Bringing to you  
> Anything you ask me to
> 
> The way you move  
> Is mesmerising  
> The way you move  
> Is hypnotising  
> I know I crumble when you are around  
> Stutter, mumble, a pitiful sound  
> Stagger, stumble, shackled and bound  
> In chains
> 
> In chains, I'm in chains  
> In chains, I'm in chains 
> 
> You've got me dying for you  
> It's you that I'm living through  
> You've got me praying to you  
> Saying to you  
> Anything you want me to  
> You've got me reaching for you  
> My soul's beseeching me too  
> You've got me singing to you  
> Bringing to you  
> Anything you ask me to
> 
> I'm in chains 
> 
> In chains, I'm in chains  
> 

January 14, 2008

Early on Monday, Mulder sat in his office reading the morning edition of _The Washington Post_. The headline appearing over an Associated Press story looked like it belonged on the cover of a supermarket tabloid rather than a critically-acclaimed and historical newspaper. “FBI arrests modern-day Frankenstein doctor,” it read. The photo that went with it featured Assistant Director Walter Skinner, Agent Moseley Drummy, and another agent leading the handcuffed suspect, Dr. Uroff-Koltoff, away from the crime scene.

He was back to clipping strange events out of newspapers, except this time he just happened to be directly involved. What had occurred less than 48 hours before seemed almost far away now. His life remained unchanged in any significant way. Only the scrapes and bruises on his face were proof that anything out of the ordinary had happened recently.

Upstairs in their bedroom, Scully had just finished getting dressed for work when her cell phone rang. She crossed the room to her dresser to answer it.

“Dana Scully.”

“Dr. Scully, sorry for calling so early.” It was Agent Drummy. “But I wanted to pass on some news.”

She immediately tensed, having hoped she wouldn’t hear from the FBI again anytime soon. “Yes. What is it?”

He paused for a moment. “Joseph Crissman died in the hospital late Saturday night. He stopped breathing and then his heart stopped. The medical team couldn’t bring him back.”

“He had terminal lung cancer,” she replied.

“We know,” he said. “I wanted to call and let you know earlier, except the ASAC didn’t want us to involve you any further. But…” He paused again. “I just wanted to tell you so you could pass this on to Fox Mulder.”

Scully thanked him and he hung up the phone without another word. She sighed and set her phone down again. Not long after, she’d slipped her shoes on, packed her phone away in her bag, and came downstairs. After setting her bag down by the front door and taking her long tan coat from the hall closet, she walked through the open doorway to the office, where her partner was once again clipping away at newspaper articles.

“Mulder.”

“What’s up, Doc?” he asked somewhat lightly, but carefully. They’d been through a lot the past few days.

She swallowed, hesitating, not knowing what he’d say or how he’d take it. “Father Joe is dead.” He dropped the scissors onto his desk and turned in his chair to face her, the _Post_ still in his hand, stunned into silence. She took in his sweater and jeans, averting her eyes from his steady gaze. “He was clearly a very sick man.”

The story had been nearly clipped and he tore it out the rest of the way, staring down at it. “Did you see this story?” he asked. She nodded quietly in response. “The FBI is claiming Father Joe was an accomplice in all this. Not a word about calling me in as a consultant. Not a word about his psychic connection.”

“He’s dead, Mulder,” she said softly. “We’ll never know the truth.”

“I know, Scully, and so do you.”

She shook her head. “I don’t.”

He sighed. “Well, I can prove it.” He went on to reiterate Joseph Crissman’s connection to the man that Dr. Frankenstein was trying to give a new body, including their similar times of death on Saturday night. He stood up and stepped closer to her, emphasizing his point. “You get me the death certificate and I’ll show it to you, and then I’ll take it to the FBI and I’ll show them. I’ll shove it in their face.”

Gazing up at him, she felt sad and weary. “Do you think they’re really gonna take your call? Skinner would, I’m sure, but then he’d be overruled, wouldn’t he?”

He opened his mouth to reply but then realized he didn’t have a valid argument. He knew she was right about that. She reached out and touched his arm. “Let it go, Mulder.”

“It’s an injustice to the man’s name. He saved that woman. We both know it.”

“His _name?_ What kind of reputation is the FBI slandering? Considering his crimes against those young boys, who is really going to care?”

He shook his head. “I care. And I think you care, too. Scully, he is the reason that young woman is alive.”

“Mulder, _you’re_ the reason she is alive.” She shrugged. “And… I guess I am, too. And Skinner. No matter what you believe about Father Joe’s psychic abilities, _we_ were the rescue team. He had nothing to do with it.”

Studying her face, he could tell she was hiding things behind it. A well of emotion was just beneath the surface. “I thought you believed him, too.”

She gave him a look, bristling momentarily at his statement. “I _wanted_ to believe him. And yes, you’re right, I did believe him. I acted on that belief.”

They’d attempted this conversation a couple times in the last couple days, and this is where he always reached a stone wall. They had to break through it. He could see the emotion welling up behind her eyes. He had to get her to open up. “Why don’t you just tell me what he said to you?” he asked again.

Scully swallowed against the lump forming in her throat, shaking her head and lowering her gaze from his. She didn’t want to have this conversation.

Mulder studied her a moment, realizing this wasn’t the best time to get an answer. He turned and stepped over to the wall, pinning the newspaper clipping beside his _I Want To Believe_ poster. She watched him, and then sighed, finally answering, although somewhat begrudgingly. “He told me, ‘don’t give up.’”

He turned around and considered her. He didn’t know what to say. He realized that Father Joe’s words to her were not just about the missing agent, but perhaps something else. Her patient, the young boy? It was clear to him she’d taken those words as such. He now knew exactly the kind of dilemma she’d been facing.

“And I didn’t give up, Mulder. It saved your life.” The emotion rose up inside her, her eyes filling with unshed tears, her voice breaking. “But I’ve put that boy through hell. And I’ve got another surgery scheduled for this morning, plus the third one next week. And if it actually works, we’ll start treatment all over again a month from now. And do you know why I decided to go ahead and do this? Because I believed that God was telling me to. Through a pedophile priest, no less.”

He remained silent, for a moment taking it all in. He could see just how much this had been weighing on her. “What if he was forgiven? What if Father Joe’s prayers were answered after all?”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Why would they have been?” But then she looked up at him, letting his passionate belief affect her. She thought of her life, and his, of their life together. She thought of their son, and everything that had been unjustly taken from them. She swallowed again, fighting back the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. “Mulder, so many prayers go unanswered,” she said, her voice breaking again. “Why would God choose Father Joe? A man who violated God’s most sacred trust?”

“Because he didn’t give up?” he guessed, stepping forward and placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Riiight,” she breathed. “Try proving that one, Mulder.” He dropped his hands from her shoulders. She sighed, eager to get away from this conversation. “Anyway… I’m due at the hospital.” She quickly turned and walked out of the office, retrieving her bag from the living room and walking out the front door.

He stood in the office, watching her go. She was right. Even after all the incredible things he’d seen over the years, he knew there was no way he could prove it, there was no way anyone could. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to believe it. Those words, don’t give up, had they been about Agent Bannan at all? Were they just for Scully and her patient? Or was there something or someone else she wasn’t supposed to give up on? He walked out of the office.

Just as she reached their rented sedan, Mulder came out the door after her. “Scully?”

She turned beside the driver’s side door and looked at him.

“Why would he say that? ‘Don’t give up.’ Why would he say such a thing to you?” He started walking down their porch steps.

“I think it was clearly meant for you, Mulder. About persevering and saving that young woman.”

He quickly approached where she stood. “He didn’t say it to me. He said it to you.”

She shook her head and shrugged, at a loss as to explain. “I have no idea.”

“If Father Joe were the devil, why would he say the opposite of what the devil might say? The devil would want you to give up.”

Pausing, she considered him and what he’d said. She hadn’t thought of it quite like that before.

He stepped closer to her. “Scully, Father Joe didn’t say that to me. And as far as I know, he didn’t say that to Agent Whitney, or to anyone else at the FBI, and he had plenty of opportunities. He _only_ said it to you. Why you? Why did this case suddenly appear? Did the FBI _truly_ need to get us involved? Why did we come into contact with Father Joe? Why did he say those words _to you?_ This case wasn’t meant for me, Scully. It was meant for _you,_ so _you_ could hear those words. Maybe it _was_ from God. Maybe that’s the answer. You know, the larger answer.”

His words touched her deeply, and she could feel the emotion welling up inside. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper.

“Don’t give up,” he said.

Those words coming from Mulder hit her hard. Her eyes filled with tears. But just as quickly he could see, just as he’d seen countless times before, her rational mind kicking in and fighting back the emotions. She could barely look at him. In two hours, she was going to be performing the second round of treatment on Christian, a decision she’d been torn enough about already. She couldn’t think about Mulder’s implications right now.

“Please don’t make this harder than it already is,” she said, her voice thick with emotion, her chin quivering.

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s okay. Okay.” He sighed. “If you have any doubts,” he whispered softly. “Any doubts at all, just call off that surgery this morning. But either way, we’ll get out of here. Just me and you.”

She looked up at him, and he could see in her face what she was going through to make that kind of decision. But she wasn’t averting her eyes from his gaze. She was looking into his eyes with love and trust. Not only that, but even hope. Something he hadn’t seen in a long time. He brushed her hair from her face, smiling down at her.

“Where?”

He pulled her closer to him, his arms going around her waist and his hands resting on her hips, gently laying his forehead against hers. “Picture an island with lots of white beach. Picture lots of blue ocean. You in a swimsuit…”

She pursed her lips. “You in a red Speedo?”

“I might still have that somewhere,” he deadpanned, and gave her a slight grin as he moved his head away from hers. “But just imagine it, Scully. You and me in a little boat with all that blue water and all that sand, our skin brown from all that sunshine, ‘cause we’re out of the cold and into the warmth.”

She smiled up at him, but it was tinged with sadness. “As far away from the darkness as we can get?”

He gave her a slight smile in return. “I’m not sure it works that way. I think maybe the darkness finds you, and me.”

“I know it does,” she whispered, sniffling as one of her tears escaped.

“But let it try.”

She smiled again, this time not as sad, her gaze dropping from his eyes to his mouth. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her, kissing her with tender passion, with a promise of forever. They broke the kiss and rested their foreheads together. Scully nodded bravely, before stepping away, his hand caressing her cheek as she put her hand on his chest, reassuring him. He watched her get into the silver rental car and drive off.

 _Don’t give up,_ Mulder thought. _Don’t give up._

*****

Donned in white lab coat and blue scrubs, Scully made her way down the hospital corridor with Christian Fearon’s charts, going over them once again before the procedure. Coming down the hallway toward her, walking with purpose, was Anna Harding, her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, who gave her a pointed stare as she passed by. She knew Dr. Harding’s stance on this treatment as well as many of the other doctors and the hospital administration.

And sure enough, as she approached the operating room, she saw Father Ybarra speaking with Blair and Margaret Fearon. He was no doubt attempting a last-ditch effort to get them to pull the plug on the procedure, after she’d worked tirelessly to convince them to keep going. The priest’s expression as he stared at her was not friendly. The Fearons looked troubled. They appeared to expect her to stop and speak with them, but she wasn’t about to. The time for discussion was over. It was time for action.

Scully merely nodded. “Mr. and Mrs. Fearon. Father…”

Christian’s parents and the priest nodded, but if they had second thoughts and wanted to stall the surgery, nothing was spoken aloud to her as she breezed by them. Once she reached the operating room doorway, she turned back to look at them. “Excuse me,” she said professionally, albeit pleasantly.

The OR was abuzz with activity. A team of highly skilled nurses were readying the room for the procedure as well as her patient. The anesthesiologist began to ready the child, and she turned to the scrub sink. As she stood over the basin, the same fear welled up inside her once again. There was more at risk with the second procedure than the first, and the stakes were higher. She couldn’t look into the eyes of anyone on her OR team, who were standing in wait. She didn’t want to know what they thought of her decision, didn’t want to see either their doubt or their hope.

Once she snapped on her latex gloves, she walked into the theater and approached the operating table. Her patient’s shaved head was once again held inside the severe-looking traction device. The boy looked up at her and she met his steady gaze. He couldn’t have looked more small, frail, and vulnerable, not to mention innocent. But in his blue eyes she saw a maturity beyond his years, that old soul staring back at her without doubt or fear.

As she gazed down at Christian, almost transfixed, she could sense the OR team exchanging nervous glances, unsure as to what might happen next. Her stomach filled with anxious butterflies.

Polite, yet hesitantly, one of the nurses took a step forward. “Are you ready to begin, Dr. Scully?”

A voice in her mind said: _Don’t give up._

But it wasn’t Father Joe’s, or even her own. It was Mulder. _Mulder’s voice._

Suddenly an image flashed in her mind of a beach, a UFO made out of wet sand, and a young boy with reddish-brown hair and bright blue eyes. _Don’t give up._ And another image came forward, of her and Mulder near a white beach, in a small boat lazily gliding across blue water under a sunny sky. She smiled.

Then Scully met her young patient’s confident gaze with a determined fearlessness equal to his own.

“Yes,” she said to her OR team. “Let’s begin.”

Later that evening, she opened her front door to see her partner standing in the living room waiting for her. She dropped her bag and shrugged off her coat, tossing it on the arm of the couch, before moving towards him and throwing her arms around his neck. His arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly to his chest. She sighed contentedly.

He looked down at her, a smile gradually spreading across his face. “The procedure went well?”

“It’s a bit premature, but yes,” she replied. “His lipid metabolism shows signs of improvement and his enzyme output is starting to increase.”

“And that’s a good sign?”

She nodded. “It’s a very good sign.” She withdrew from the hug and gazed up at him. “So, where were you thinking of going? Just you and me?”

He smirked. “Well, I think one place that’s as far from the darkness as we can get is Hawaii. I can’t think of a more perfect vacation for the two of us.”

“That _is_ far. Too far right now. I can’t leave my patient for that long in the middle of treatment. We may have to postpone our plans for a bit, Mulder.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world, Scully. I’m a footloose and fancy-free.” He grinned down at her.

She arched her brow and turned from him, making her way towards the kitchen. “Yeah, too much time, I think. Have you thought about what you’d like to do with yourself now that you’re not confined to the house?”

His face fell slightly. He knew what he wanted to do, knew the work was probably right there waiting for him. All he had to do was place a few calls, perhaps to Skinner and any allies he had left in Congress. But he could never go back without Scully, nor would he want to. He then smiled again. “I’ll be planning our Hawaii getaway. Maybe I’ll get a car of my own and go see a travel agent.”

She furrowed her brows in suspicion, recognizing the evasiveness of his answer to her question. She wanted nothing more than for him to find contentment and satisfaction in the life they were making together. She hoped he could find another calling, something that would give him an intellectual challenge, something equal to his talents. But all she could think of was the X-Files, and wondered if anything else would ever give him the same sense of fulfillment and purpose. She felt the familiar stirring of her conscience, and admitted the same thing about herself.

Scully opened the refrigerator, sighing as she scanned its contents. “What should we have for dinner?”

Mulder smirked. “How about we go out? How long has it been since I took you out on a date?”

Turning towards him, her hand still on the open fridge door, she scoffed. “Years.”

He stepped further into the kitchen, closing the distance between them, closing the refrigerator door, pulling her into his arms. “And… how long since we made love?”

She had to think about that. “Um.” Her hands went around his waist and up his back. “It’s been a while. A few weeks, I think.”

Grinning down at her, he nodded. “That’s way too long. On both counts. So, what should we have first, Scully? Food or sex?”

“I don't know, it's been a long, tiring day.” She sighed, but then she smiled up at him. “Whatever you want, I’m game. The choice is yours, Mulder.”

They gazed at one another, their eyes locked in silent conversation, expressing the deep emotions their words could not. His hand moved from her waist, down her hips, clutching her ass. She sighed, holding him tighter. But then the familiar sound of rumbles in her stomach were heard. Mulder chuckled. “Food it is, Scully.”

*****

March 2, 2008

After spending all of the previous day packing, on Sunday Mulder and Scully caught the 12:30 pm United 525 flight out of Washington Dulles International. After a 90-minute layover in San Francisco, they finally arrived at Kona International on Hawaii’s Big Island just after 6:00 pm local time. Once their luggage was retrieved from baggage claim, they were quickly loaded into a transport van.

“Where are we staying, Mulder?” she asked lightly.

He glanced at her in the seat beside him. “I haven’t told you all this time, Scully, so why would I give it away less than ten minutes before we’ll arrive?”

She playfully rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she rolled down her window. Looking out, she sighed in contentment at the landscape around her. She loved the sight of the turquoise water and beaches and palm trees. She loved the heat. The air was perfumed with the sweetness of flowers, and the saltiness of the ocean. She closed her eyes and just breathed.

Mulder grinned. “You needed this. You’ve worked way too hard for too long without a break.”

Scully turned from the window and gazed at him, her hand going to his thigh and giving him a gentle squeeze. “We both needed this.”

He couldn’t argue with that. Traveling had triggered some anxiety on his part. Walking up to the gate at Dulles airport and showing his I.D. had momentarily tied his guts into knots. He half expected his name to be flagged, to be hauled off to some windowless room to wait for government agents to descend on his ass. But there had been no problem. Fox Mulder was approved for travel.

“How do you feel about being in Hawaii?” the driver asked them.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she replied, smiling.

He beamed at her in the rearview mirror. “Most beautiful place on earth.”

It wasn’t long before they were pulling into the drive for the Four Seasons Hualalai Resort. Scully looked at her partner and flashed him a surprised smile, brighter than sunshine. But then her face fell slightly. “Mulder, I told you I didn’t need anything too expensive.”

“It’s not about the price, Scully,” he said, lowering his voice. “It’s about the experience. We’re making up for all the years we were unable to take vacations.”

The van was soon parked, their luggage unloaded, and they were walking into the lobby of the resort. The staff warmly welcomed them upon arrival, offering colorful leis for both of them. They checked in under Scully’s name and received their keys to the ‘Ānelakai Suite. They were then transported to the King’s Pond crescent area of the resort. It was the northernmost crescent of the resort property, and housed a 1.8-million gallon “pond” carved out of natural lava rock. The pond, measuring from three to 15 feet in depth, served as both an aquarium and a pool. Fresh and ocean water combined to fill the pond, which moved along with the tide. Guests could swim freely with 98 species of tropical fish, including the spotted eagle ray.

When they arrived at their suite, situated not far off from the pond itself, they were greeted by their own Concierge. Mulder was happy with his choice. Their luxury suite was the closest to the ocean out of the other accommodations on King’s Pond crescent. It was a lower level suite with a king bed, a full granite bathroom with outdoor shower, and a separate living area that opened to an extended lanai with private plunge pool. Past the lanai, they had a private lawn that gave them direct and easy access to the white sand beach.

Scully walked around the suite, smiling from room to room. “This is perfect, Mulder.”

They were soon sitting on the lanai and relaxing while they took advantage of the suite’s unpacking and pressing services offered by the resort. Their Suite Concierge, a friendly and attentive young man, arranged for their private dinner and then departed, their meal and freshly-pressed clothes to be expected a little while later. Basking in the warm air and salty breeze, Scully closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. Travel was exhausting, but the destination was worth it.

Mulder had planned a long week of relaxation for Scully, and each day she was treated to a surprise. After having breakfast together at the Ulu Ocean Grill on Monday morning, he booked her a private one-hour session of yoga followed by a Luana bath at Hualalai Spa. They had lunch together on the lanai in their suite, and spent the afternoon on chaise lounges at Palm Grove Pool, an adults-only sanctuary where they enjoyed hourly pool-side pampering. On Tuesday morning, he arranged for her to have a private one-hour Pilates session. Once they finished lunch, they spent part of the day at King’s Pond until it closed at 4:00 pm, where they snorkeled and participated in the scheduled fish and ray feedings. In the late afternoon, he booked them a 50-minute Couples Massage.

On Wednesday, they went on a helicopter excursion Mulder had booked in advance. Lifting off from the resort’s golf course, they took a private charter over the Kohala Mountains toward the southeast coast, taking in the Big Island’s landscape, filled with waterfalls, valleys, black sand beaches, and working ranches. After landing in an exclusive-access area inside Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park, they had a catered picnic lunch. Following their meal, a volcanologist joined them and they took another flight to the Kilauea Volcano, one of the most active volcanoes in the world. When their tour ended, they were taken by SUV to the Four Seasons Rainforest Cottage Hideaway, where they enjoyed a pre-dinner show of live Hawaiian music and hula dancing. Following the evening’s festivities, they boarded their charter and flew back north to the Hualalai Resort.

Days of uninterrupted wellness, relaxation, pampering, and luxury, wholly unlike the life waiting for them at home, slowly but surely melted away Scully’s worries, stress, and real-world cares. To bask in the warm sunshine, to be near the ocean, and doing these things with Mulder, felt like a healing power for her. The years of forced solitude and loneliness were finally behind them. They were free, and could enjoy life to the fullest.

Yet, despite being nearly 5,000 miles from home, the life they’d be inevitably returning to was something Scully’s mind often wandered to. Mulder could pursue a career if he wanted. But what? He never seemed to have a real answer when she asked him about it. The FBI knew he was within reach. What would stop them from calling upon his expertise whenever they were desperately in need of it? How long could he put them off? How many times could he say no? What if the X-Files were eventually re-opened? How would she feel if he wanted them to go back to work at the FBI? And even worse, if he worked them without her while she remained at the hospital? If she was honest with herself, while she had once enjoyed the challenge of pediatric neurosurgery, while she still enjoyed working with the children in her care and their families, her work wasn’t nearly as fulfilling as her previous career. Was this what she was going to do for the rest of her working life? And then what would Mulder do? There were too many unknowns ahead of them, their future obscure.

*****

March 6, 2008

On Thursday evening, after returning from dinner at the resort’s Beach Tree restaurant, Mulder and Scully walked across the warm sand carrying glasses of wine, sinking their bare feet into the coarse granules. A soft breeze caressed them, the long strands of her silky red hair dancing around her head. The dress she was wearing was one of his favorites, just sheer enough for him to make out the purple lace of the bra and underwear she wore underneath. Mulder’s body tightened with awareness, but he pushed those feelings back.

For the past several months, he’d been the only one initiating sex, every time, to the point he had begun to almost feel like a pest whenever he did. This was unusual, as they both normally did their fair share of initiating, Scully never being shy about letting him know when she wanted it. However, since taking on the Christian Fearon case, their intimacy had waned and she’d stopped initiating altogether. Between her work and the FBI coming back into their lives, it had been a stressful few months. When they’d first landed in Hawaii on Sunday night and arrived at their hotel, he had thought the best way to work out that stress was between the sheets. However, she’d been too exhausted from their 14 hours of travel. After that first night, he decided to wait for her to initiate. She hadn’t thus far.

Mulder had hoped they would be making love every day and every night on vacation, but it hadn’t turned out as he’d expected. He now understood this trip was about release of a different kind, an emotional and perhaps even spiritual release for two hearts that had been weighed down for so long. They had been forced into a prison that was partly of their own making, hiding away, living a life in exile. Even though Scully had rejoined society and a profession, he knew she also carried the emotional weight of his near solitary confinement to their small house in Virginia. This, on top of the other losses they continued to cope with, had been a heavy burden to carry.

They stopped beside the blanket and then sat down on the beach, thighs touching. Mulder tapped his glass against hers. “To the future.”

She gave him a slightly sad smile, and nodded. He gazed at her, then tapped their glasses again. “And to us.”

Her smile brightened, and her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. “To us.”

This had become their evening routine since they’d arrived at their private beach bungalow, ending their day with glasses of wine and the roar of the ocean just a few feet away. The ritual was relaxing, but also energizing. There was something about the ocean that made Mulder’s blood sing, something like adrenaline surging through his veins. He pictured Scully lying beneath him on that blanket, imagining how she’d feel arching her hips against his and moaning in sensual pleasure. He felt his groin tighten, and tried to restrain his thoughts.

After taking a few sips of her wine, she laid her head against his shoulder. “I’m going to miss this place when we leave in a few days.”

Mulder smiled. “We’ll just have to come back next year.”

Scully lifted her head and gazed at him. “I’d like that.” Her thoughts suddenly turned to something back inside their bungalow, packed away in one of her bags. Her face reddened, the muscles in the pit of her stomach tightening. She bit her bottom lip to keep herself from grinning.

“What?” he said, eyeing her suspiciously.

“I haven’t paid enough attention to you lately, have I?” she asked wistfully. She’d been distracted since Christmas. Her thoughts were filled with her patients, Christian Fearon in particular, and the painful memories this dredged up, and then fears of what dangers the FBI could once again bring to their lives welled up, almost consuming her. She hadn’t given much thought to what Mulder needed from her.

He swallowed. He thought he knew where she was going with this line of questioning, but he couldn’t be sure. “What do you mean? Not a day goes by where we don’t see each other. Like you said before, we’re two people who come home every night.”

She pursed her lips, thinking. “We used to spend almost every waking hour together, our hearts and minds engaged with the same purpose. Now I go off to the hospital every day, while you…” She sighed. “Sometimes it feels like we lead separate lives. But… we’re safe. The FBI isn’t breathing down our necks. We have clean records. We can finally have a normal life. Have you given anymore thought to what you want to do now?”

“What exactly am I qualified for, Scully?” he said dryly. “I suppose I could pursue my dream of buying a cheap van and painting  _Spooky Investigates_  across the side of it.”

She ignored the sarcasm. “Well, perhaps when we go home, we can…” Her sentence trailed off. She didn’t want to open the door to something she wasn’t entirely sure she should open. She didn’t want to make promises she couldn’t keep. She looked at Mulder. His green eyes looked tired, yet they stared back at her intensely. They held the same fire, the same passion as they did the first day she met him. And he still had those same rugged good looks that first attracted her, although his thick brown hair was now flecked with gray.

“Are you happy?” Mulder asked after they’d sat silently drinking their wine for some moments. He thought things should be simple for them. They were both in their mid-40’s, healthy, and had plenty of money. Despite all that had happened to them, they were alive, and they had each other. But there would always be something missing, a hole in their hearts that could never be filled. And this  _“separate lives”_  thing Scully had alluded to wasn’t making the hole any smaller.

“Of course, I love it here,” she answered easily, watching the waves hit the shore.

He shook his head. “No, I mean… are you happy overall? Are you happy with your life?”

Scully was taken aback by the question, perhaps more by the tone of his voice when he’d asked it. She thought carefully for a moment. “I think we’re in a good place,” she finally answered.

He pressed harder. “Are you happy?”

She stared down at the sand next to the blanket and started running her fingers through it. “It’s not that simple, Mulder.”

“It’s not a complex question, Scully.”

“But there are so many layers to everything that can’t be broken down into such a simplistic statement.”

He nodded. “Fine. Let’s try to simplify it, then. Are you happy with your career?” Mulder prepared himself for another evasive answer, but she surprised him.

“I’ve been growing less satisfied with it since Christian Fearon’s case,” Scully admitted. “Things have changed so much over the last year. Medicine had once been a real passion of mine, but I’ve been starting to resent who I need to be and what I need to sacrifice just to keep the hospital administration happy. They don’t want to open their eyes to new techniques. They’d rather give up and let a child die because they’re too afraid to look for extreme possibilities. I have an uphill battle on my hands every time a challenging case comes up. It leaves me feeling like I’m not doing enough, I’m not doing all that I am capable of. That’s not the kind of medicine I want to practice, but…”

Mulder shook his head. “There is no ‘but,’” he interrupted.

She sighed. “Yes, there is. The ‘but’ is what provides us with stability and an income. I’m willing to stick it out for a few more years, no matter how much I dislike the way things are.”

“I don’t want you to be unhappy because you’ve convinced yourself things have to stay this way. We have what’s important: each other. We don’t need much else. Your happiness is far more important than whatever your job might offer you.”

Scully looked up at him. His eyes were gentle, yet determined. “Are _you_ happy?” she asked cautiously.

He smiled sadly. “I am when we’re together. But the hours you keep make those times seem few and far between.” He was no longer trapped in the solitary confinement of their home, and was free to go anywhere and do anything he liked. But he didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything on his own. He wanted her by his side. “If you’re unhappy with your work, why is it so difficult for you to walk away?”

“It’s what I’m good at,” she answered. “Being a doctor is who I am, it’s who I’ve been for longer than I care to remember. When I walked away from practicing medicine to join the FBI, I promised myself and my father that someday I’d go back and take up the career I was letting go.” She sighed and leaned her body into his. “Being a medical doctor has defined me, and if I were to stop then I wouldn’t know where else to turn to.”

“You can always turn to me, Scully.”

Mulder lowered his lips to hers, cutting off any further speculation on this topic. Kissing her had been an impulse, meant to take her mind off her doubts and fears and turn it to the promise of their future together. But it only took a small taste of the wine on her sweet lips, and an inhalation of her intoxicating scent, to make him forget his reasons and want to pursue something even better. But to his surprise, it was Scully who made the move.

In a heartbeat, Mulder was lying on his back with Scully draped over him, their glasses of wine hitting the sand. She wasted no time in sliding a hand beneath the hem of his shirt to find warm, smooth skin. His lips parted on a soft intake of breath as she slid her hand down the front of his pants and wrapped her fingers around him. He felt a surge of warmth in his groin. His hips arched into her touch, asking for more. She slowly, inexorably set him on fire. She didn’t want to excite him too much. Not yet. She wanted – no, she needed this to last a long time.

Abruptly, she removed her hand and pushed herself off of him to stand up.

“Where are you going?” asked Mulder, wide eye staring up at her. His breathing had grown rougher. His erection pushed against the fly of his pants.

“ _We’re_  going inside,” Scully answered. Smirking down at him, she held out her hand. He took it, squeezed it, and then got up off the beach blanket. She led him into the suite, heading for the large master bedroom. Once inside, the king-sized bed greeted them, its milk-white duvet and pillows neatly arranged. Letting go of Mulder’s hand, she walked over to her bags and unzipped a small black leather carry-on. From an inside pocket, she pulled out a set of red velvet handcuffs and turned to grin at him.

Mulder’s eyes widened, his groin tightened. “Holy shit.”

She smirked and walked towards him. “So, do you want to wear them? Or should I? Your pick.”

He stared at her. She’d really give up control like that? He briefly pondered both scenarios before deciding. “I’ll wear them.”

“That’s what I’d hoped you’d say.” A red flush crept up her neck, her cheeks blushing, and she stepped closer.

He waggled his eyebrows at her. “How do you want me? Dressed or undressed?”

She thought for a moment. “Dressed. On the bed with your hands over your head.”

“You got it.” He then bounded onto the bed. He laid flat, stretching his arms over his head.

She followed to the bedside. “Do you want a safe word?” she asked, smirking at him. She felt excitement in the pit of her stomach, like butterflies trapped in a jar.

Mulder thought for a second. “My safe word can be  _Steel Magnolias_  because if I’m thinking about that movie while you have me cuffed to a bed, I have some problems I need to work out.”

Scully giggled, his humor only adding to his attractiveness. He really was a wonderful man, a giving partner, always trying to make her laugh and help her feel comfortable in any situation. “Okay. I guess we can start if you’re ready.”

“Oh, I’ve been ready.”

She smirked and gazed down at him, and saw his pants were still tented in the front. She tried to remember the last time they’d had sex. It had been a while. She could tell he’d been pent up, frustrated. She would make it up to him. Scully climbed onto the bed and sat on her knees next to him. “Where would you like me to start first?” she asked.

“Wherever you want,” he breathed, his voice shaky. “Whatever you want and however you want.” His green eyes darkened and he gazed at her adoringly. The way he looked at her made her feel powerful, made her feel in control, and it made her feel wanted and loved. She leaned over him and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“I know I’ve said this before but you are so beautiful, Scully,” said Mulder. “You have perfect breasts, great legs, and an incredible ass.”

She grinned. “You’re only saying that to get in my pants,” she teased. After she finished with the buttons, she pushed the cotton fabric open and exposed his midriff. Once the shirt was removed, she again placed his hands above his head before reaching over and cuffing them to the wooden slats of the headboard.

“Happy Anniversary, Scully.”

“What?” she chuckled.

He smiled up at her. “March 6th. We met 15 years ago today.”

Smirking, she nodded. “And look at us now. I’m handcuffing you to a bed.”

“I like the progress we made,” he laughed. “Although, slow-going.”

“The first several years weren’t as exciting as they are now,” she said. She paused a moment. “Well, sex-life wise.”

He grinned, nodding in agreement. “What about work-wise?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows at her.

She pursed her lips and arched a brow. “Do you want me to stay in the mood, Mulder?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

She trailed her fingers down his abdomen, delighting in the feel of his soft skin and the hard muscle underneath. He groaned, closing his eyes. “Whatever you want to do, Scully, I’m game.”

Grinning, she admired him as he flexed in the cuffs. His sultry green eyes gazed at her. He licked his lips. “You okay?” she asked.

“More than okay. I love to look at you.”

“Even if you can’t touch me?” Scully teased.

Mulder nodded. “Even then. I could look at your beautiful body all night.”

Her center tightened and clenched, becoming slick, her arousal growing. She lifted her sundress over her head and tossed it to the floor. In another moment, her purple lace bra was on the floor beside it. She slid her hands over her breasts and down her stomach. He groaned again, his green eyes becoming hooded slits of desire. She cupped her breasts, sliding her thumbs over her hardened nipples, enjoying the sounds of his growing need.

Scully leaned down and kissed him on the mouth, letting her tongue trace his lips. He deepened the kiss. His lips were soft and sensual, his kiss intoxicating, sending desire sparking through every part of her body, pooling at her center. She sucked on his bottom lip, the tension between them reaching a maddening pitch, and he thrust his hips into the air. She broke the kiss and moved down, pressing her mouth to his soft, sun-kissed skin. Her lips grazed over his ribs, and another groan escaped Mulder’s throat. She continued to kiss and nibble at his exposed skin, all the while his hips straining upward with each move she made. She then ran her fingers through the hair on his chest before leaning over to lick a nipple.

Mulder jerked against the cuffs. “Ah, fuck, Scully. That almost made me come in my pants.”

“Almost, huh?” she smirked. “I must not be too good at this. I suppose I should practice more.” She leaned in and licked the nipple again, before moving over to the other one, her tongue swirling around the flat before teasing the tip.

He started panting. “Fuck. I don’t know if I want you to stop or keep doing that.”

Scully arched her brow. “Well, it’s not your decision, is it? I’m in charge.”

Her panties were now soaked. She slid a hand inside, her fingers dipping into her warm wetness. She licked his nipple again and began kissing his stomach, trailing down towards his navel.

Mulder lifted his head off the pillow. “Are you touching yourself?”

She stopped and looked up at him. “Maybe.”

“Jesus Christ, Scully,” he panted, shaking his cuffed hands for emphasis. “At least take those off so I can watch you.”

“I’ll think about it,” she teased, her fingers once again sliding down into her folds, gathering her wetness and circling her clit. “If you’re good.”

He made a whimpering sound of defeat, which she enjoyed. She continued kissing down his trail of hair, her tongue dipping into his belly button. She kissed and licked his skin, the tips of her breasts grazing over his abdomen. Another agonized sound escaped from Mulder’s throat, his hips straining for the friction he desperately needed. Scully decided to be kind. Her hand left her hot, swollen center and went for his belt. She noticed the front of his pants had a wet spot, his cock already so wet with pre-cum it had seeped through the fabric.

Her hand removed his belt, tossing it to the floor, and then moved down to stroke his erection through his pants. “Are you thinking about  _Steel Magnolias_  yet?”

“Fuck no,” Mulder breathed. “Your hands feel good. I never want to think about that movie again for the rest of my life.”

“So, you don’t want me to stop?” Scully teased.

He groaned. “If you stop right now, you’ll see a grown man cry.” He thrust his hips, rubbing himself into her hand.

Scully shook her head. “I’d never want to make you cry, Mulder.” Her voice was thick and husky with arousal. Her groin tightened and her thighs clenched as she slowly, very slowly, pulled his zipper down.

“You’re torturing me,” he panted.

“Yes, but this is what you signed up for.” She pushed aside the front of his pants, now undone, revealing the straining bulge that pushed against his boxer briefs. The soft cotton outlined every detail, down to the swollen cock head. Again, she stroked her hand down his length. “Should we keep these on or take them off?”

Mulder’s breathing grew rougher. “You’re the one calling the shots,” he answered in a tight voice.

Scully smiled. “That’s right. I am.” She pondered for a moment. “I’d like to see all of you. Lift your hips.”

He did as he was told, and she slid his boxer briefs and pants down until his cock sprung free. She’d almost forgotten how beautiful he was, the heavy cock head and the thick girth of him. She wrapped her hand around him and her petite fingers couldn’t quite touch. The size of him made her ache with need. “You’re so big, Mulder,” she whispered. “And so hard.”

Another agonized whimper. “You like torturing me, don’t you? You know, you could unlock these cuffs now and I could touch you.”

She hummed, her desire pulsing between her legs. She leaned in, gripped him firmly, and swiped her tongue across the head of his cock. “No, I don’t think so. You’re mine to play with.”

Mulder hissed between his teeth. “Oh, Jesus Christ, Scully.”

She leaned in and give him another full lick of her tongue, while caressing his balls with the palm of her hand. “Do you like that? Do you want me to keep doing it?”

He groaned as her mouth returned to his cock. “Ah, fuck yeah. Yeah, just like that.”

The more sounds he made, the more her thighs clenched, the more wetness poured from her center. The sharp taste of his pre-cum was on her tongue, and she continued to lick him again and again, being sure not to miss a single drop that beaded on the head of his cock. When she looked up, Scully noticed his arms were straining against the handcuffs. His heavy-lidded eyes were a shade of green so dark they were almost black. His nostrils flared. The muscles in his jaw clenched.

“I think I’m going to stop asking now,” she whispered. “I’m just going to do whatever I want.”

She then took the head of him between her lips and drew him into her mouth. Mulder’s long, delicious moan was music to her hears. She pulled him deeper into her mouth, licking and sucking, stroking her tongue along the underside of his cock. His hips bucked as she wrapped a hand around the base and began to pump him in time with the movements of her mouth.

He moaned again. “Fuck, that feels good. I want to make you feel this way. I can’t wait until you’re under me, Scully. I’m going to lick your cunt for hours just to show my appreciation for the way you’re working my cock right now.”

Mulder’s words were filthy, but talking was the only thing he could do right now. She knew dirty talk was his specialty, particularly on occasions when his arousal was sky-high or he was close to orgasm. Her hand slid back inside her panties again. She loved the feel of his cock. He was so hard his skin was like soft silk over steel. She sucked him in deep, and drew him back out of her mouth, all the while stroking her fingers over her throbbing clit.

Already he felt his orgasm building, tightening in his balls, burning through him as the pressure built. He growled. “Stop, stop, stop. I’m gonna come soon. Too soon. I want… I want your cunt on my cock. I want your cunt on my mouth. I want…” He panted harder as she hummed around him. “Ah, fuck, I’m gonna come. I don’t want to yet. I don’t want to finish now. I’m don’t want to finish until you’ve been thoroughly fucked, and when I do come it’s gonna be with my cock buried inside your cunt. Scully, please…"

She whimpered in need. Was it possible to orgasm just from his words? He certainly liked trying. She released him with a “pop” of her lips that made him groan all over again and pulled her hand out from between her legs.

“Are you ready to use your safe word?” she asked, gazing at him with eyes darkened with arousal.

“No,” he said through gritted teeth. She then sat on her knees and pushed her damp underwear down and over her hips. A couple moments later and they too were tossed to the floor. She moved over to straddle his pelvis, his erect cock brushing against the back of her ass. Scully leaned back slightly and parted her legs further, one hand on his thigh to keep her balance. She reached down with her other hand and spread her wet folds. Her fingers reached for her swollen clit and she rolled it slowly, tenderly caressing it.

Mulder’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “You’re so fucking hot.” He was panting for breath. His mind was a heady fog. He felt frantic with lust, as if he’d fallen into a sexual abyss. His hips bucked. His hands jerked wildly against the velvet cuffs. She soon felt her orgasm building, her clit tightening, wetness seeping down her thighs.

“Scully, please,” Mulder begged, his voice hoarse, his wrists twisting in their restraints. Her moans made the blood boil in his ears. “Let me do that. Let me touch you. Let me taste your cunt. I wanna make you come.”

Grinning at him mischievously, she stilled her movements and drew her hand away. “I was so close, Mulder,” she complained teasingly. She then moved her body forward, sliding her hot, wet center up his torso until she got to his shoulders.

He groaned. “Yes. I want you on my face, riding my tongue.”

Lifting herself up slightly, she then lowered her cunt to his mouth. His hips bucked again in response, and without hesitation his mouth opened her slit, sending a chill through her body at the first touch of his tongue. The smell of her and the taste of her juices drove him wild. He could feel and taste her nearing her climax. Mulder sucked her clit, then slid his tongue down to her opening and plunging inside as far as he could go. He moved back and forth at her slit, lapping at her sweet juices.

“Oh God,” Scully moaned loudly. “Mulder… Mulder… Mulder…” She panted, gasping for breath as she moved her hips over him.

He knew she was on the verge of release, and moved to his mouth up to her clit. He sucked on it, pulled with his lips, and rolled the hardened bundle of nerves with his tongue. He brought out every whimper, every moan from her lips. He felt her tense up. He moaned against her clit while he sucked it and she cried out, thrusting her hips over his mouth. She pressed down harder, the friction bringing her closer to the release she desperately sought.

“Oh, my God, Mulder.” A deep, guttural moan fell from her lips and he knew she was tipping over the edge. He thrust his tongue inside her as she climaxed, her orgasm spilling onto his tongue. His hips bucked helplessly, his cock throbbing painfully.

Waves of pleasure washed over Scully. It had been so long since she’d felt this good. Too long. She moved off his shoulders and glanced down at his pelvis. His thick cock was so heavy with need it had fallen against his stomach, the engorged head nearly reaching his navel, pre-cum leaking in a steady stream. He was dark and powerful, mouthwatering. She licked her lips. She suddenly felt so desperate for that hard, heated flesh inside her body that she whimpered. She felt wanton with lust. Quickly she reached over to the bedside table, taking the small metal key. She unlocked the handcuffs and removed them from his wrists.

His eyes widened in surprise. “The game is over?”

“I just want you to touch me, Mulder,” she said, almost desperately. Yearning filled her, a desperate need for him, for his kiss, for his touch, for everything he could give her. “I want you to fuck me.”

The handcuffs forgotten, he reached around her and flipped her over onto her back. She spread her legs and he settled between her hips. “You like my hands, Scully?” he whispered, his voice thick with arousal.

Her body felt on fire. “I do,” she whimpered again, her hips arching up against his.

He slid his hand between them, and after stroking her once, he slipped two of his fingers inside her entrance. “I can’t wait to have this around my cock. You’re so wet, Scully. It makes me so hard to feel how wet you are for me, knowing how much you want me. You need my cock here? Filling you up?”

A ripple of pleasure surged through her, her legs trembling. “Yes,” she moaned. Encouraged, he curled his fingers and began stroking her with vigor, in and out of her tight, wet heat.

“Fuck,” she said as he stroked her sweet spot inside. White stars popped inside her eyelids, and her toes curled. She panted as he reached deeper, his thumb rubbing her clit with intent.

“I’m gonna make you come over and over,” Mulder groaned above her. “This is what I want. There’s nothing better than this.”

She began to whimper in earnest. “Please,” she begged, but she wasn’t sure what she was pleading for.

While his fingers dominated her core, he leaned down and sucked a hardened nipple into his hot mouth. Waves of pleasure shot down from her breasts, registering across her clit. She moaned and grabbed at him, pulling his mouth down to hers. He kissed her passionately, and she opened at the nudge of his tongue. The taste and scent of him filled her senses, her body overwhelmed with sensation. With a sudden sharp gasp, she burst apart, bucking wildly against his hand, fire surging through her veins, pleasure exploding in every nerve ending she had.

Mulder watched her writhe beneath him, his senses filled with satisfaction. As she came down from her high, she smiled up at him. He brought his fingers to his mouth, coated in her delicious wetness, and sucked them clean. She whimpered, her hips arching in response. “Do you want more?” he asked.

She nodded, and reached down between them, stroking her hand around his thick length, wet with pre-cum. She continued to work her hand around him, and moments later she again pulsed with need, her center tightening. “I want  _you_.”

She let go of him and moved her arms around his back as he positioned himself between her legs. He placed the head of his cock at her entrance and pushed himself slowly inside, inch after inch. Scully whimpered, soft mewling sounds that excited them both in equal measure. The girth of him, his hardness pressing against her walls, was sensory overload.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “You’re so hot and wet and tight. And so soft. You make my cock feel so good.” He gazed down at her and their eyes met, his expression filled with love and affection. “You make me feel good all over, Scully,” he said softly. His words sent sparks of pleasure firing across her brain, her thighs clenching and her clit throbbing, and her heart swelled with emotion.

Mulder pulled out until the head of his cock was barely inside her entrance. She whimpered at the loss of fullness, but before she could arch her hips towards him, he thrust forward and buried himself to the hilt. The sudden impact, the length and thickness of him, the slight burn, and the feel of his hips flush with hers was almost enough to send her over the edge.

Their combined moans, guttural and needy, filled the air as he thrust inside her again and again. Their breaths were coming hard and fast, his chest pressing down against her breasts. His skin was soft to the touch, yet the muscles in his back were like a steel wall under her fingers. Mulder rose above her, keeping his weight on his elbows, his back arched, his body taught with a tension that was coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust of his hard cock inside her wet heat.

Again, he pulled out all the way, letting her slowly feel every inch of him, and thrust back into her with a force that would have sent her sliding to the top of the bed if he hadn’t been holding on. Scully cried out at the friction, at the tension growing tighter in her belly, at the need spiraling inside her with every move of his hips. His movements were hard and fast. She started to raise her hips and meet him halfway, sensation upon sensation building inside her, every nerve ending rippling with pleasure.

Mulder cursed long and hard, filthy words dropping from his mouth, drops of sweat beading his forehead, a delicious tension in every inch of him. With every thrust, his groin caressed her swollen clit. “I’m gonna come,” she moaned.

After a few more thrusts of his cock, she felt him grow suddenly harder, signaling his own impending orgasm and pushing her closer to the edge. She reached down between them and worked her fingers over her clit with purpose, on the verge of release, and then her tension broke and she cried out in ecstasy. The force of her orgasm hit her so hard it stunned her. “Oh, my God, Mulder!”

He stiffened, and with a growl he thrust deeper and harder one last time as her nails dug into his back. And then he was shuddering. His own orgasm came, ripping through him so powerfully he lost all control of himself. He bucked his hips wildly against hers as he rode out the waves of pleasurable release, letting go of all the pent-up frustration his body had been holding onto. Long, guttural moans escaped his throat as his cock throbbed inside her and filled her with heavy spurts of his seed.

She cried out again, another climax hitting her unexpectedly, as his delicious warmth filled her. She locked her legs around him and raised her hips so her cunt gripped tighter around the base of his cock, drawing every last bit of pleasure she could. Her limbs tingled, her toes curled, and bright spots danced across the back of her eyelids. Mulder kept thrusting as more bursts of pleasure rippled through his body, over and over as her tight walls milked him. He shuddered again, and then fell on the mattress beside her.

A sense of completion and overwhelming affection filled Scully as Mulder laid his face in the crook of her neck, locking a leg around her hips. She languidly stroked her fingertips across the soft, tanned skin of his back. They were silent for a while, quietly breathing in each other’s scent, enjoying the satisfying feel of skin on skin and the intimacy of shared passion.

“You’re wearing the cuffs next time,” he muttered lazily.

She let out a breathy laugh.

He sighed. “Are you happy?”

There was that question again. “I’ll always be happy with you, Mulder.”

He smiled, and held her tighter. “I know I don’t say this very often, and maybe I should, I don’t know,” he whispered. “But… I love you, Scully.”

She turned to face him and she smiled. They gazed at each other for a long moment. She knew they weren’t the greatest at vocalizing their feelings, especially for one another. When it came to their relationship, they were less talk and more action, and it had been that way from the beginning. Words weren’t always necessary, and sometimes they simply paled in comparison to the strength and depth of what they felt. Speaking them often seemed trite and foolish. But sometimes it was good to say and hear the words, cementing and reassuring their bond.

Scully brought her hand up to his face, gently caressing him. “I love you too, Mulder. So much.”

He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her. She kissed him back, her soft lips molding to his. He broke the kiss a few moments later and they both let out deep sighs of satisfaction. They laid cuddling together, and outside they could hear the sound of the ocean through the open windows. It wasn’t long before their bodies gave in to physical fatigue and sexual exhaustion. Fully spent, Mulder fell asleep spooned against her back, his arms wrapped around her, and Scully nodded off to the secure warmth of his body and the feeling that there wasn’t another place in the world she’d rather be.


	152. "Well, the right woman will come along and change all that."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder receives an unexpected proposition. He and Scully are confronted with enquiries about their relationship.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping At Last - "Turning Page"
> 
> I've waited a hundred years  
> But I'd wait a million more for you  
> Nothing prepared me for  
> What the privilege of being yours would do
> 
> If I had only felt the warmth within your touch  
> If I had only seen how you smile when you blush  
> Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough  
> Well I would have known  
> What I was living for all along  
> What I've been living for
> 
> Your love is my turning page  
> Where only the sweetest words remain  
> Every kiss is a cursive line  
> Every touch is a redefining phrase
> 
> I surrender who I've been for who you are  
> For nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart  
> If I had only felt how it feels to be yours  
> Well I would have known  
> What I've been living for all along  
> What I've been living for
> 
> Though we're tethered to the story we must tell  
> When I saw you, well I knew we'd tell it well  
> With a whisper we will tame the vicious seas  
> Like a feather bringing kingdoms to their knees

May 17, 2008

Saturday night in D.C. Hand in hand, Mulder and Scully made their way down the concrete steps leading to a subterranean Downtown restaurant, situated about halfway between the White House and Dupont Circle. They were soon standing in front of a reception desk made of dark wood, where hostesses in short black cocktail dresses were hastily moving about, showing newcomers to their tables or saying farewell to departing customers. A young blonde woman greeted them with a smile, and after Scully gave her their reservation name, they were shown to their table near the bar a few moments later.

“Your server will be with you shortly,” the hostess said, before smiling and walking away from their table.

Convivial and elegant, the restaurant exuded confidence and sophistication. They gazed around them, taking in the atmosphere. Near the bar was the place to be, Mulder thought. There were ice-mounded platters of pristine clams and oysters, the bartenders were heartily amusing their patrons with salty talk, a live jazz piano played in a nearby corner, and a loud conversational hum filled the air. On the other end of the dining room, an open kitchen revealed a continuous bustle of activity, toque-wearing chefs circling about. His memories stirred.

He reached across the table and laid his hand on Scully’s arm. She turned it over, exposing the inside of her forearm, and he gently caressed his fingertips over her delicate skin. “Do you remember when we used to come here for lunch?”

She smiled. “I do.” She remembered those days, clearer than she thought she would. The letter X constantly taped on Mulder’s window in his Alexandria apartment. Late night stakeouts. Long hours in the basement or the FBI library. Clandestine meetings at dive bars, national monuments, and in random parking garages around the city. Power lunches where his Capitol Hill allies and informants sitting at nearby tables, regulars at the glad-handing scene, could discretely pass him information. Secrets in the light. Secrets in the dark.

“I don’t remember it being this romantic, though,” he said, grinning at her while his fingers traced along her arm.

“Well, we’re having dinner on a Saturday night,” she replied. “Not lunch on a Tuesday. Also, this is a date, not a pretext for you to meet up with random guys in the men’s room.”

He scoffed. “Jesus, Scully. You make it sound so seedy.”

Smirking, she thrust her tongue in her cheek, her eyes twinkling mischievously. He nodded, and ran his hand down her arm, brushing over her wrist, and then holding her small, warm palm in his larger one. “Things are different now than they were then, Scully. A lot has changed.”

“Some things have changed, Mulder. Our circumstances. The reason why we’re here. But… some things are still the same.”

They gazed at each other, unspoken words passing between them. Their waiter arrived moments later, clad in a black suit, and took their order: the six-course tasting menu. They soon were dining on beet salad with red, yellow, and candy-stripe beets, classic bouillabaisse, lobster-and-lemon ravioli, chicken and mushroom potstickers, short ribs for two, and candied Granny Smith apples with salted caramel ice cream.

Scully took a bite of her ice cream, rich and decadent. “Mmm, this is delicious,” she hummed, smacking her lips.

Taking a bite of the candied green apple, Mulder nodded appreciatively. Glancing toward the hostess stand near the entrance to the restaurant, he paused as he saw Walter Skinner being shown to a table by a brunette hostess. He wasn’t alone, accompanied by the current FBI Director and the former FBI Director as well as a man and woman he didn’t recognize. The woman was strikingly tall, nearly six feet, and looked to be in her late 40’s or early 50’s. The man was considerably shorter, and younger. The group was soon seated at a table that was near enough the jazz piano to prevent anyone from overhearing them and yet far enough away so that it didn’t make conversation difficult.

“Scully,” he said in a low voice.

She looked at him and then followed his gaze, her eyes widening at the sight of Skinner and the men he was sitting with. She turned back and arched her eyebrow. “I don’t think he’d like us walking over and saying hello, do you?”

He shook his head. “Not in front of Freeh and Mueller.” While he had never met Robert Mueller, having taken the Director’s chair not long before he was forced to go on the lam in New Mexico, he had been in charge of the FBI when that bogus trial resulted in his death penalty sentence. Mulder had no desire to go near the man. But Louis Freeh had been appointed Director of the FBI in 1993, just a few months after Mulder had partnered with Scully, and had remained in the position until Mueller took over in 2001. Freeh hadn’t exactly been a champion of the X-Files, and he often suspected the man had ties to the very organization their work fought hard to expose and bring to justice. At the very least, the former FBI Director was unwilling to take a stand against Cancer Man and his cronies. Mulder would much rather avoid him as well.

“I wonder why Skinner is with the Directors.” She considered the table another moment, the situation sparking her interest. “Who do you think they’re here with?” she questioned. “The woman and the other man?”

“I don’t know.” The unknown man and woman certainly appeared professional-looking, both dressed in suits. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them before.”

Scully shrugged, and set her spoon down on the table beside her bowl. She glanced at her watch; it was going on ten o’clock. “I don’t know why I let you convince me to drive into the city for dinner. We’ve got quite the drive home now, over an hour and a half.”

Lifting his glass of red wine, he smirked before taking a sip. He licked his lips as he set the glass back down. “I assumed it would be a bit much to drive home afterwards. So, that’s why we have reservations at the Marriott Marquis for the night.”

“We do?” she smiled warmly. He smiled in return, reaching across the table to hold her hand in his.

“You tired?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.

Licking her lips, she shook her head, lifting her foot to stroke the inside of his calf under the table. “I’ve always possessed an abundance of energy and it takes a lot to wear me out.” Her eyes glinted at him suggestively.

He hummed appreciatively. “I’m always up for that challenge.” He then signaled their waiter to bring the check.

Once they had paid, they walked hand in hand through the restaurant, heading for the exit. Unable to resist, they glanced over at the table that had been of keen interest not long before. Taking a sip from his water glass, Skinner caught their gaze and stared. His eyes darted to his tablemates, but it was clear they hadn’t noticed who was walking through the dining room, and he again met Mulder and Scully’s gaze. They each gave him a slight smile and a polite nod, before turning their backs on him and leaving the restaurant.

Later, awakening in the middle of the night, Mulder stared up at the ceiling. His mind drifted back to the restaurant, to Skinner sitting with the current and former FBI Director. He wondered who the other man and woman were, and what they were all doing there together, what their topic of conversation was. Sighing, he turned to his side and looked at the sleeping woman beside him. Most likely she wouldn’t be much interested in discussing the goings on at the FBI. He gazed down at her bare shoulder. What she had said at the restaurant was true.

Mulder couldn’t help smiling when he thought of the number of times they’d made love tonight; Scully’s body taking him in, clenching around him, satisfying him and milking from him all the pleasure he could give. And he gave a lot. She’d had one orgasm after another, after another, and they’d made love until exhaustion and pleasure had wracked their bodies. Then she had fallen asleep in his arms, spooned up against him. Still smiling at the memory, he slid a bit closer and wrapped his arm around her. But again, his thoughts turned to Skinner, the FBI Directors, and the mystery couple, a disquieting feeling coming over him.

*****

Late on Tuesday morning, several hours after Scully had left for work, Mulder’s cell phone rang while he was standing in front of the open refrigerator contemplating what to make for his lunch. Surprised, he shut the door and walked back into the living room in search for his phone. Not many people had this number. He didn’t really know anyone anymore. The ringing was coming from his office, and he walked through the open doorway, still wondering who would be calling him. Scully didn’t usually call at this time of day. His first guess was the call was from Maggie, but when he picked up the phone it was a number he didn’t recognize.

“Hello,” he answered.

“Hello, I’m looking to speak with Fox Mulder,” spoke the man on the other end.

Pausing, he hesitated for a moment before responding. “This is Fox Mulder.”

The man cleared his throat. “Glad I got a hold of you. This is Dr. Thomas Buckley with Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond. How are you this morning?”

“Uh… I’m good.” Mulder didn’t know who this was or why he’d be calling. “How did you get this number?”

“Assistant Director Walter Skinner with the FBI was kind enough to supply us with a way to reach you,” Dr. Buckley replied. “Mr. Mulder, I’m sure you’ve heard about Princeton closing its ESP Lab several months ago.”

He glanced at the clipped article tacked up on the wall next to his poster. “Yes, I read about it in the newspaper.”

“There are now currently only two universities in the United States that have academic laboratories or departments devoted to parapsychology studies.”

Mulder nodded. “The University of Arizona’s Veritas Laboratory investigates mediums, psychokinesis, spontaneous remission, remote viewing, and psychic abilities. The University of Virginia has the Division of Perceptual Studies within their Department of Psychiatric Medicine, which studies near-death experiences, out-of-body experiences, and the possibility of the survival of consciousness after bodily death.”

“You know your stuff, Mr. Mulder.” Dr. Buckley cleared his throat. “Well, I’m calling because there’s a about to be a third such laboratory devoted to these studies. Virginia Commonwealth University will be setting up the Scientific Paranormal Research Center, which will be a joint project under the umbrella of the Department of Psychology and our Interdisciplinary Science Program. It will be somewhat similar to our Humanities Research Center. The goal is to traverse conventional disciplinary boundaries and encourage collaboration.”

He thought for a moment, taking in what the doctor had said. “And you’d like to speak with _me_ about this?”

“I was recently named the Associate Director of the newly-instated SPRC and I’ll be working closely alongside Dr. Margaret Matheson, the Director. We would like to meet with you at your convenience, but the sooner the better. We have some things we’d like to discuss that I think might highly interest you.”

Mulder was definitely intrigued. Did they want to hear about his work on the X-Files? Use his cases as part of their studies? “I’m free anytime, really. I could drive into Richmond today, if that works for you.”

Dr. Buckley chuckled. “Perfect. How about 2:00 this afternoon?”

“I’ll be there.” He then grabbed a pen and wrote down the address as dictated. Immediately after ending the call, he got back on the phone and dialed Scully’s cell. His call went right to voicemail. He left a message to let her know he was going to drive into the city and he’d stop by the hospital to take her out to lunch. After running upstairs to take a quick shower and change into a black suit, he was getting into his brand-new charcoal-gray Ford Escape and heading for Richmond.

Forty-five minutes later, he pulled up to the hospital’s North Tower staff entrance, where Scully was standing outside waiting for him. Smiling, she opened the passenger side door and hopped into the SUV. “I’m starving,” she said as she buckled her seatbelt.

“Me too,” he replied. “There’s a new place that just opened up last month I’d like to try. It’s on Marshall Street, adjacent to VCU.”

She scoffed as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Mulder, there are plenty of good places near the hospital. Why go over there?” She stared at him, eyes widening as she finally took in his clothing. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw him in a suit. “Why are you dressed up?”

He glanced at her, grinning. She thought she saw excitement in his expression. “I actually have a meeting at the university this afternoon.”

Her mouth dropped open. “A meeting? What kind of meeting? What for?”

“I don’t exactly know, Scully.” He shook his head. “But I’m meeting with Dr. Thomas Buckley and I believe one Dr. Margaret Matheson. They’re going to be directing the new Scientific Paranormal Research Center at VCU. All this Dr. Buckley said was they wanted to meet with me.”

“ _Scientific Paranormal Research Center_ ,” she repeated. Did they want him to be involved in some way? As a consultant or possibly an advisor? He certainly had a lot experience and insight. She didn’t want to get her hopes up. She believed he needed something to ground him, something to challenge him again, something to work on and achieve at. Something he was passionate about, something that gave a measure of credibility to everything he’d worked for. “Is it a job offer?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they just want to talk about our work on the X-Files. You know, pick my brain.”

She pursed her lips, nodding. “Maybe.”

Less than ten minutes later, they were parking near the café on Marshall Street near VCU’s campus called The Black Sheep. Fortunately, they arrived at a good time and got a decent spot in line, just before another busy rush, people quickly filling up the line behind them. It wasn’t long before they were ordering, and they were soon seated in a wooden booth against the wall. While Scully partook of the lunch special, a bowl of chicken and dumplings soup and a garden salad, Mulder dug into one of their gargantuan sandwiches, referred to as battleships on the menu instead of subs.

Amidst the laid-back atmosphere and hospitable service inside the café, Mulder listened as Scully spoke of a new patient and the neurosurgical operation she had performed earlier that morning. The success of Christian Fearon’s case had brought others to Our Lady of Sorrows seeking stem cell therapy for a number of diagnoses and treatments, from traumatic brain injury to brain tumors to pediatric bone marrow transplantation.

After once again speculating on what the upcoming meeting at VCU might possibly entail, they departed The Black Sheep. Ten minutes later, he pulled up beside the staff entrance on the north side of the hospital. A small group of nurses and doctors stood outside the automatic doors while on an apparent break, some chatting and others smoking. Quickly getting out of the driver’s seat, Mulder walked around to open Scully’s door and let her out.

With an amused smile and arched eyebrow, she unbuckled her seatbelt and slid out of the vehicle. She threw a sideways glance at the group standing nearby, whose heads had turned to look at them, while he closed her door. “What was that for, Mulder?” she asked in a low voice.

He shrugged, grinning. “Just felt like it, Scully.” His hands went to grasp her upper arms and he leaned down, kissing her softly. He pulled back, gazing at her. “I’ll see you when you get home.”

Blushing, keenly aware they were being watched by other hospital employees, she smiled and nodded. “See you later.”

She then walked away toward the entrance, passing by the nurses and doctors who smiled as she passed. A few of them exchanged looks before turning back to stare at Mulder. He politely nodded before getting into his Escape and driving off.

Just inside the hospital doors, Scully immediately bumped into Cala Karimi, one of her former fellow residents, who was on her way out. She was one the few doctors who had remained at Our Lady of Sorrows after their residency had come to an end. The others in their group had moved on to pursue careers at more prestigious medical centers, but Dr. Karimi stayed because her husband had gotten hired as an athletic trainer for the University of Richmond’s women’s basketball team.

“Dana!” she smiled, beaming at her. She wore a white lab coat over her burgundy pencil skirt, her long dark brown hair held back into a low ponytail. 

“Hi, Cala. Good to see you back.” It had been a while since she’d had the chance to talk to her, not since she’d gone out on maternity leave months before.

Her large almond-shaped eyes, the color of melting chocolate, glinted mischievously. “So, that was him, huh?”

Scully’s brows knitted. “Him who?”

“Dana, come on,” she laughed. “The guy you’ve been hiding from all of us for years. Dr. Ryan mentioned you had a partner nobody knew about, but I wasn’t sure if I believed it until now. You never mentioned anyone before.”

“Oh yes, that was Mulder.” She felt her face reddening, and hoped she wouldn’t have to say much more. She wasn’t used to talking about him with other people, especially her colleagues. She knew most of them assumed she hadn’t been seriously involved with anyone. She knew they often talked among themselves, curious about the personal life she spoke nothing about. The desire to still keep their relationship secret no doubt stemmed from the years he was forced to spend in hiding as well as those early years when they were fiercely protective of each other and their dynamic while at the FBI. No one had been allowed inside, had been permitted access to the inner-workings of their partnership, not even Skinner. As far away as that life seemed to be now, the words _trust no one_ felt forever seared across her mind.

Cala smiled, her olive skin creasing near her twinkling eyes. “He’s cute. So, how long have you been with him? Who is he? What does he do? How did you meet him? I want all the details.”

She cleared her throat. “Um… we’ve been together quite a while, fifteen years. We used to work together. He’s… retired.”

“He was a federal agent like you were, at the FBI?” asked Dr. Karimi. “Was he a pathologist, too? Were you guys partners?”

“We were partners, but he doesn’t have a background in pathology. He was… _is_ … a psychologist. He’s just not working at the moment.” She then quickly deflected the conversation. “So, how’s Tyler doing? And the baby?”

Cala beamed. “The baby is wonderful. She’s amazing. And Tyler’s doing great. He loves his job, and he’s decided to go back to school later this year to get his master’s degree in physiology. Between that and the team he’ll have a full plate, but he likes being busy. He thrives on it.”

Nodding, Scully smiled, feeling eager to end the conversation. “That’s nice to hear. Well, I really should get back to work. It was good to see you. We’ll have to catch up later.”

She then made for the elevators and rode up to the seventh floor, where she briefly stopped by her office to check her messages. Once she donned her white lab coat, she made the afternoon rounds of her patients, going over their charts, discussing their status with the nursing staff, and meeting with their parents.

*****

Mulder parked his vehicle in front of one of the many historic buildings on West Franklin Street on VCU’s campus. It had clearly been built in the 19th century, Victorian, all red brick with white trim. He got out and made for the east side of the building, moving up the wooden ramped walkway to the door and stepping inside. He was greeted by a middle-aged receptionist with graying blonde hair. He gave her his name and told her he had an appointment. After waiting about five minutes, a man with dark hair and glasses who looked to be in his mid-30’s entered the reception area from a back hallway. He was informally and yet smartly dressed in shiny brown shoes, impeccably creased Dockers, and a tweed jacket over a white button-down shirt sans tie.

“Fox Mulder?”

He nodded and stuck out his hand. “Yeah.”

Shaking his hand, the man smiled. “Dr. Buckley. Nice to meet you. If you’ll come with me, I can take you back to our unit.”

“Thanks.” He followed the doctor into the same hallway he’d entered from. He walked along the dark hardwood floor that creaked as they moved across it, listening as Dr. Buckley spoke about the Department of Psychology, housed in five different historic buildings on West Franklin Street. They reached the bottom of a stairwell and then began walking up to the second floor, Mulder taking in everything around him. While the exterior of the building was historic, the inside was more modern, having been converted from a single-family home into a facility that housed offices, classrooms, conference rooms, and a reference library.

Once they’d climbed another set of stairs and reached the third floor, they turned right and walked down to the end of the hallway. They soon reached a door with “Thomas Buckley PhD, Associate Research Professor, Experimental Biophysics, Experimental Nanoscience” on its window. But it wasn’t the office the doctor was heading for. He turned to the door directly across the hall from his own, with “Margaret Matheson PhD, Clinical Psychology Professor, Director of Anomalistic Psychology Research Unit” emblazoned with gold letters on the glass window.

“What’s a physicist doing with an office in the psychology department?” Mulder asked him.

Dr. Buckley chuckled. “My office used to be over on Grace Street in the Department of Physics, but when Dr. Matheson formed this research unit two years ago I was recruited to join. It’s just the two of us right now. But once the university finishes renovating the old arena into the new Kim S. and Joyce T. Manners Center for the Sciences this summer, and the Scientific Paranormal Research Center is up and running, the unit will be expanding.”

Mulder nodded, staring at the word _anomalistic_ on the office door, pursing his lips. He wondering just how well this meeting was going to go. After a brief knock, the doctor opened the door and allowed him to enter first. He stepped inside the office as Dr. Buckley closed it behind him once he’d followed inside.

A woman immediately stood up from behind her desk, moving around to greet him. Mulder’s eyes widened in recognition. She was in her late 40’s, possibly early 50’s, with shoulder-length dark brown hair starting to go gray at the temples, and she was tall, nearly six feet, dressed in a navy blue skirt suit. He turned and stared at Dr. Buckley, moving to stand near the woman, and he knew who they were. He had seen them before, inside that subterranean D.C. restaurant near Dupont Circle, dining with Skinner and the FBI Directors, current and former.

“Dr. Margaret Matheson,” she said, greeting him with a smile and an outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Mulder.”

His fight-or-flight response kicked into gear, and he contemplated running from the room. What was this about? Why had they called him here? He swallowed, and slowly raised his hand to shake hers. “Same.” He paused, staring.

Dr. Matheson furrowed her brows, looking back at him curiously before motioning to one of the armchairs in front of her large wooden desk. “Do you want to sit down? And can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? Tea?”

Mulder moved towards the leather chair. “Oh, no. I’m fine, thank you.” He sat down, remaining silent as she sat in the chair behind her desk and Dr. Buckley took the armchair next to his.

She folded her hands and considered him a moment. “I’m sure you’re wondering why we wanted to meet with you.”

He chewed on his tongue, nodding. “I noticed this is an _anomalistic_ psychology unit, so… yes, it’s curious as to why you’d like to speak with me.”

“I’m well aware you’re a believer, Mr. Mulder,” she replied. “And we of course work under the skeptical assumption that human behavior and experiences connected with what is often called ‘the paranormal’ has nothing to do with the paranormal at all.”

“And yet you’re going to be the Director of this so-called Scientific Paranormal Research Center,” he responded dryly.

She smirked. “Yes, I have been appointed as the Director, and Dr. Buckley here as the Associate Director.” She nodded towards her colleague. “Which brings us to why you’re here. Once the Manners Center for the Sciences is complete, it will house seven classrooms, three lecture halls, 17 undergraduate instructional laboratories, a student study lounge and computer labs, all equipped with state-of-the-art technology, as well as an aquatics facility that will house up to 20 research tanks.”

“A lecture hall and three instructional laboratories will be set aside for the sole use of the SPRC,” added Dr. Buckley. “Two of those research tanks will also be used for sensory deprivation studies and other psychological experiments. We’ll have our own distinguished department housed within the Manners Center.”

Mulder considered them. He thought it sounded like a sales pitch. He just had to figure out what they were selling. “But your unit works at debunking paranormal phenomena.”

Dr. Matheson regarded him. “Cases of paranormal _fraud_ , Mr. Mulder. But knowing that myself and Dr. Buckley approach this area of science with skepticism, it’s important that we offer the students taking our courses a variety of interpretations. After 30 years of research and study I have found no proof whatsoever of paranormal phenomena, the majority of cases having a natural explanation. However, I realize the significance of presenting our students with an opposite point of view.”

“And that’s where I come in, is that it?” he asked.

“Paranormal activity is all the rage these days,” she smirked. “Opinion poll after opinion poll tells us that the majority of the population in this country, in one way or another, have beliefs in the paranormal. In any survey, no matter who is conducting it, people will endorse at least one paranormal claim. Now, either that means paranormal abilities and supernatural forces truly do exist, or it’s telling us something really interesting about human behavior. So, either way, we believe these types of claims should be taken seriously as a study of psychology.”

He nodded, running his fingers over his mouth. “And where do I fit in with this? How do you even know who I am?” He wanted to get down to the nitty gritty, to find out why they had the dinner powwow in Washington just three days ago, why anyone would suddenly show an interest in him.

Dr. Buckley let out a breathy laugh. “Are you saying there would be people involved in paranormal research who _wouldn’t_ know who you are, Mr. Mulder? You must surely be aware that you are a known entity to many organizations, domestic and international.”

“When you called me, you said you’d gotten my number from Walter Skinner,” he said. “Did you contact the FBI about me?”

“Yes,” Dr. Matheson answered matter-of-factly. “Like I said, we’re interested in offering a different viewpoint to our own at the center. But we can’t offer our students just anyone. We need someone with bona fide credentials, whose achievement speaks for itself, who can back their claims and beliefs with actual investigative work. And when Dr. Buckley and I made a list of potential candidates for this role, your name was at the top. So, yes, we contacted the FBI.” She glanced at her colleague.

Re-crossing his legs, Dr. Buckley nodded. “As you can imagine, inquiries into the X-Files raised some eyebrows, and for a good two months no one would agree to speak with us. After numerous phone calls, we were finally given the name of someone we could contact at the bureau: Walter Skinner. We explained to him why we were calling, why we were interested, and he arranged for us to meet. To our surprise, Director Mueller and Louis Freeh wanted to sit in on the meeting. We believe Mr. Freeh came along as he’d had a lot more experience overseeing the X-Files Department than Mr. Mueller. They were obviously suspicious of our interest in you and your work at the FBI, particularly how it may affect the bureau’s reputation.”

Mulder clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to shake his head in disapproval. “Yeah, they were always quite concerned about that. _If it looks bad, it’s bad for the FBI_.”

“Well, after receiving our assurances, they seemed fine with our contacting you,” continued Dr. Buckley. “They even seemed open to the idea of SPRC using some of your old case files as part of the curriculum, albeit by request. Not sure how open they’ll be if those requests are actually made in future, but they didn’t appear to recoil from the idea at the time.”

“Mr. Mulder, we’d like to offer you a teaching position at the SPRC,” Dr. Matheson stated. “You’d be a professor, and you’d have your own office, a small lecture hall to use for your classes, access to the instructional labs and isolation tanks, and you’d also be granted time and money for field work.”

He glanced between them, staring. “Field work?”

She nodded, smiling. “It won’t be anything like your job as a federal agent. Field work would be strictly academic. In this line of study, we often get calls from the community from people with claims of paranormal phenomena. Often, Tom and myself are too bogged down with our classes and research projects to investigate the majority of these claims. Once the center opens and we have more staff on hand, then we’re hoping more field study can be incorporated into the work we do.”

“Is this something you would be interested in?” Dr. Buckley asked.

Mulder glanced between their expectant faces. A strange mixture of anxiety and excitement had settled in the pit of his stomach. “Well… I’d have to think about it. I’d need to talk it over with…”

Dr. Matheson smiled knowingly. “With Dr. Scully?”

The nerves in his stomach knotted, his face becoming serious, his eyes tightening. “Yes,” he answered cautiously.

She took in his stiff posture, his look of suspicion. “You have nothing to worry about from either myself or Dr. Buckley, Mr. Mulder. Dana Scully’s work on the X-Files is just as impressive as your own. And honestly, if we had our way, we’d be making this offer to the both of you, as a team. The Dean certainly seems to think it would increase enrollment at the university, at least among a certain student population. But according to Walter Skinner, she’s left this kind of work behind and is practicing pediatric medicine.”

Mulder relaxed and nodded his head. “Yes, she’s a pediatric neurosurgeon at Our Lady of Sorrows.”

They wanted both him _and_ Scully? Well, ideally. The excitement and anticipation were back. He suddenly had a vision of them working side by side again, returning to their work, but this time without a badge and gun. Maybe they could find answers… answers that still alluded them, about the future, about the past, about their son. He sighed, doubting whether this was something she’d truly want to venture back to, wondering if this was something she’d even want to discuss.

Dr. Matheson pursed her lips. “Well, that’s a shame. Not to her patients or to the hospital’s administration, I’m sure. But to those of us who work in the sciences, it’s a real loss. You must know she’s a highly regarded voice, not only in the forensic science community but also among those of us who work in parapsychology.”

“I can imagine,” Mulder said. “I know she’s invaluable to me, and my work.”

“You were a very successful team,” said Dr. Buckley. “But we understand that things may be different now and Dr. Scully is no longer available. The offer still stands for you, of course, if you’re willing to accept. Like Margaret mentioned, the list of qualified candidates was quite short and your name is at the top.” Giving a slight smile, he continued. “We hope you don’t mind if we now ask a few personal questions. I’m sure you’ve seen on the news over the past several months about the university’s unfortunate scandals involving inappropriate behavior between some of our faculty and students.”

Mulder nodded, remembering the stories on the local news and in the _Richmond Times-Dispatch_. Two married professors had been accused of multiple inappropriate relationships with underclassmen.

“So, we’d like to address some personal things on top of your qualifications,” Dr. Buckley concluded.

He hesitated, wondering what direction this line of inquiry might go. “All right…”

Dr. Matheson nodded. “So, how long were you partnered with Dr. Scully on the X-Files?”

Mulder thought for a moment. “Oh, about seven years. I’m sure Skinner gave you that information.”

“Yes, he did. But… there were some details he was unsure about, and we’d like to get a clearer picture. At some point, your partnership became more than professional, correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” he replied, still wondering where this line of questioning was going.

Dr. Buckley pursed his lips. “Mr. Skinner mentioned the two of you have a home together in Farrs Corner, near Woodford. That’s about halfway between here and Washington, is that right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, roughly.”

The Director considered him for a moment. “I’m under the impression the FBI has clear-cut policies about relationships between partners. The university will soon be rolling out similar policies concerning our faculty and students, which will be strictly enforced. How long were you working together before you…?” She paused, as if searching for the best phrasing to ask the question. “Before you fell in love with her? Before your relationship became more than just a working one?”

He glanced between the Director and her associate. “Are you asking how much time passed before I violated the bureau’s policy?”

“Margaret and I just want to get a feel for what you’re all about, for who you really are, personally,” said Dr. Buckley lightly, giving him an easy smile. “We’ll be working closely together. We also want the Scientific Paranormal Research Center to be a success, particularly one that is scandal-free. We’d prefer to avoid the Dean’s ire as much as possible. So, we just want to get an idea of your moral character, if that’s all right. But it’s up to you. You don’t have to answer these questions if you don’t want to.”

Swallowing, he nodded. He understood where they were coming from. _“When did I fall in love with Scully?”_ Mulder spoke slowly, asking himself the question. “I… I don’t know, really. It was gradual. Or maybe it wasn’t. It’s impossible to narrow it down to a specific place and time, to a specific event. I… I might’ve always loved her, even if I didn’t fully realize. It was a long while before I admitted the truth of it to myself, and accepted it for what it was. I spent years ignoring it… trying to pretend I didn’t feel the way I did, for a number of reasons. So, you can be pleased to know that no bureau policies were violated in that regard until very near the end of my FBI career.”

Dr. Matheson smirked, nodding. “And now you’re married?”

He shook his head. “No.” Pausing, he thought about it for a moment, drumming his fingers on the arm of the brown leather chair. “Well, I guess it is a marriage, in a way. A marriage without ceremony.”

“Would you say marriage is similar to an FBI partnership? Did your dynamic have a significant change once you left the bureau?” asked Dr. Buckley.

“That is an interesting question,” he replied, considering them a moment. “You know, the word _amorous_ is from the Latin word for love, denoting affection and desire. But the word _wedlock_ is an Old English word with Norse origins denoting constant strenuous activity, such as sport or battle. Love and marriage seem contradictory, when you look at it that way. And you could say our partnership at the FBI was a representation of that contradiction. And I suppose things haven’t changed too much for us, other than secular work.”

The Director smiled appreciatively. “Marriage is… conflict and resolution, like building a campfire in the rain, like growing a temperamental plant. It can be done, but takes a lot of hard work and must be carefully tended to. But love… Love is an epiphany, a lightning bolt, a bombshell. Nothing is ever the same afterwards.”

Mulder averted his eyes, nodding, memories rushing forward. His solitary basement office suddenly becoming home to two agents. A handshake and a smile. Re-writing Einstein. His slide projector. The plausible state of Oregon. Kids in the woods. Nine minutes of lost time. A spray-painted X in the road. Mosquito bites. A candle-lit motel room. Laughing in the rain. “When I first met Scully, it was like….”

“A bolt of lightning?”

“That had never happened to me before,” he said quietly. “And it’s never happened since.”

They both nodded. He glanced between them. “Look, if you’re just trying to figure out whether or not there’s a risk I will be pursuing affairs with students, you won’t ever have to worry about that. If you’re trying to get a sense of what my home life is like, well, it’s stable and happy.”

Dr. Matheson considered him. “Do you have any children?”

His face fell, and he swallowed. He hadn’t expected the question, and he didn’t know how to answer. _Yes. No. Sort of. Not really._ Licking his lips, he chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before shaking his head. “It’s just the two of us.”

The two colleagues exchanged looks, and then nodded. Margaret Matheson regarded Mulder and smiled. “Well, we’re happy with our choice. We don’t foresee any issues with offering you the position. The salary is 60k a year, full benefits, with the standard vacation time during the academic calendar. Take some time to think about it. Dr. Buckley will give you a call after Memorial Day Weekend.”

Standing up from the armchair, he shook both their hands before leaving the office, Thomas Buckley leading him back down to reception and showing him out the door. Not long after, Mulder was driving north on the I-95, heading for home, his mind humming.

*****

The following morning, Mulder rolled over to see Scully sprawled next to him, her red hair loose across her back and the blue comforter bunched around her waist. She had such perfect, soft skin. He propped himself up on his elbow to gaze at her. Reaching over, he traced the curve of her shoulder. She sighed and moved toward the touch, stretching her spine and pulling the comforter lower. Smoothing his palm down her back, he then followed with his lips. Her skin was sweet and warm. He followed her spine, kissing the indentation between each bone. Mulder shoved down the duvet and caressed her ass, soft and tight. He dipped his tongue into the indentation at her lower back.

“If you keep doing that, you’re going to make me late for work,” she mumbled.

He shook his head. “It’s still early, Scully.” He dipped his tongue in again and she writhed, moaning. She rolled over and gazed up at him.

For a moment, he met her gaze and admired her, lying naked in bed beside him, smirking up at him with that incredible suggestive smile. He leaned down, kissing her, letting his hand slide across her soft belly. She shuddered, reaching for him. He brushed his thumb across her nipple. Her pupils dilated, her lids becoming heavy with arousal. He leaned down and took one of her nipples between his lips.

She gasped. “Oh, Mulder.” Arching, she tangled her fingers in his brown hair.

He wouldn't relinquish his hold on her hardened nipple, pressing against his tongue. Again, like so many times since his meeting at VCU the day before, his mind drifted to the day he met her, to working their first case, the choices made and paths followed that brought them together. One wrong move, one mistake made, and their paths would never have crossed. Fate had brought them together, he was sure of it. Everything about her was magic.

Scully continued to moan beneath him, and he turned his attention to her other breast. She again shuddered as he teased her nipple with his tongue. Her whole body squirmed at his touch. He ran his hand down her leg, slipping behind her knee. He softly blew on her wet nipple, eliciting a delicious cry from the back of her throat.

Mulder drew his hand up the inside of her thigh, watching her face. Eyes closed, her face was transfixed with pleasurable wonder. She was open to him, and accepted every touch without hesitation. Her thighs were slick. He traced around her soft mound, admiring the glistening drops of wet desire caught in her dark red curls. She was so ready for him. Her hips arched, trying to get his fingers inside her, seeking the friction she desperately needed, but he pulled back and she whimpered.

“Don’t fucking tease me, Mulder,” she panted. She reached for him, but instead of coming closer, he shifted to kneel over her taking one more leisurely taste of her breasts, sucking her nipples into his hot mouth, before moving down to her smooth, soft belly. He kept his hand on her hot, wet center, circling his fingers against her swollen clit to make her moan louder. As he dipped his tongue into her navel, he felt and heard her deep groan of desire.

“Mulder, please,” she whimpered. “I want you. God, just fuck me.”

He chuckled against her belly, followed by a groan as Scully reached for him and took his hand, pulling his palm across her skin and over her breast. He continued kissing down her belly, the scent of her need filling his senses. His mouth was at her soft, wet mound, his tongue parting her swollen folds.

She moaned. “I’m so close already, Mulder. I’m not gonna be able to hold out for you.”

“I don’t want you to, Scully,” he said, his voice thick with arousal. “I want you to come.” He pressed his finger inside her, searching for her sweet spot. When he found it, her body tensed and she shivered. Sweat beaded across her skin. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes, so good,” she moaned.

Mulder tasted her sweet, hardened clit. She moaned again, and her thighs spasmed under his hands. Closing his eyes, he focused on the taste and sound of her. He worked his tongue over her swollen bundle of nerves, again and again, as he continued to stroke her sweet spot inside. The feel and taste of her cunt was all the reward he needed to explore her soft folds with his mouth and fingers. The tension coiled tighter at her center. She arched up into him, gasping. With a cry, Scully clenched around his finger, the tension bursting, wracking her body with pleasure as she writhed in ecstasy.

Mulder sat up and sucked his finger clean. Every precious inch of her was bathed in a beautiful glow as she lay sprawled on the bed, shuddering with orgasmic aftershocks. He crawled up the bed beside her, his body thrumming with need, and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. His cock twitched against her leg, hard and ready.

Scully reached up and stroked his cheek. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” He smiled down at her. She was certainly in a good mood, and he didn’t think it was solely because of the orgasm. She’d been in a particularly good mood since the previous evening. When she’d arrived home from work yesterday, she was anxious to hear about his meeting at VCU, to learn what this Scientific Paranormal Research Center was all about. He’d then told her of the job offer and what the position would possibly entail, and the smile she’d given him was like the sun coming up. She had seemed truly excited and happy for him, almost as if the news had been an answer to her prayers. Maybe it was. Looking down at her now, she was still smiling.

She glanced at the digital clock on his bedside stand. It was almost 5:00 am. She looked back at him. “So, shower?”

“I’m still in a state here, Scully,” he said, glancing down at his erection, throbbing with need.

“We’ll just have to work on that,” she grinned.

Mulder swing his legs off the bed and walked to their bathroom, his partner following behind him. He turned on the water and stepped inside the shower while she emptied her bladder. Moments later, she opened the shower door and he drew her under the hot water. “This is nice,” he said.

“It is.” Scully rose up on her toes to kiss him, lacing her arms around his neck.

He pinned her to the shower wall, every inch of him aching to take her. He loved the way she touched him, the way she trusted him, the way she loved him. Mulder’s thoughts shattered, and he took her mouth, kissing her passionately. The sounds of spraying water filled the shower stall, the steam walling them off from the rest of the world. Her skin was warm and wet, her mouth deliciously hot. Her hands caressed him, explored, going down his back to his ass, squeezing him.

She moaned, sucking his lower lip as she drew her hand around his hips and wrapped her small fingers around his hard cock, stroking him. “You’re not wasting any time, are you?”

“Do you want me to?” he asked, his voice almost like a growl. He cupped the back of her head in his hand to tilt her face up to his. His eyes held her gaze as her fingers worked him, and he surged in her hand. She wore the softest, sweetest smile. Like this was all she wanted in the world. He traced her full lower lip with his thumb.

“Scully,” he whispered, feeling the confession about to rip from his chest. “I need you. I’ve always needed you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. You changed my life.”

She squeezed her fingers around him, her thumb brushing the sensitive head. “I know, Mulder.”

Wicked pleasure streaked through him. Her grip tightened on him and he groaned. The hot water, the touch of her hand, her soft mouth and sweet sigh, the slow build of tension in his balls, streaking down his legs. Nothing felt as good as Scully in his arms. But that thought melted away as she moved down, kissing his chest, her lips caressing his skin down to his stomach. His muscles tensed. Bracing both hands on the walls, he watched as she opened her mouth over his cock, her tongue sliding, wet and hot, across it. “Jesus Christ, Scully,” he cried out. She was consuming him.

She slid her cheek along his arousal. His breath locked in his chest. He stared. She turned her face, and then while holding him in her fist, she covered him with her lips. The sensations of her mouth on him, her hands holding him to her as she licked and sucked him, made his back arch. Then she moaned around him, the sound of her pleasure flooding his body with lust. The tension became a ball of fire in his groin, about to erupt. But he wanted more. Needed more.

Mulder craved being face to face with Scully as he buried his hard cock in her soft cunt. He needed to share this with her, feel the connection between them. Taking his hands from the slick walls, he pulled away from her mouth, helping her stand. He slid his hands down the lines of her back, over the sweet curve of her ass, and lifted her. She spread her thighs around him, balancing her arms on his shoulders. He looked into her passion-filled eyes and thrust his swollen, throbbing cock inside her hot, wet cunt.

Scully dug her fingers into Mulder’s shoulders as he surged inside her. Filled her. She rocked on him, her need coiling low and demanding in her belly. As he entered her, she softened and swelled around him, fusing them as one. She leaned down and kissed him, their tongues stroking as frantically as their bodies. His hand squeezed her hip as he pulled out and thrust back into her, driving deeper into her cunt each time.

She lost herself. Wild with need, Scully rocked her hips, moaned and begged. Mulder touched her most sensitive spots, driving her higher each time his hard body brushed against her swollen clit. Then he tilted her slightly, growling against her shoulder. “Yes, don’t stop,” she moaned, as he drove into her faster, just the way she liked it.

Her desire quickly spiraled out of control, and she came apart, her orgasm bursting, flooding every nerve ending with unbelievable pleasure. “Fuck!” she cried. “Keep going. Please don’t stop.” She rode the wave, clutching him as he fucked her harder, his thick girth filling her inner walls until she climaxed in a burst of sweet, raw bliss.

Mulder rested his mouth on her ear as she began to come down. “Oh fuck, Scully,” he moaned, driving into her one last time and letting go. “I’m gonna come.” She was so hot, so wet, so tight around his cock. Burying his face in her neck, his own tension burst and he was filling her with his hot seed. She wrapped her arms around him as he pumped into her, just holding him tight. She felt the spasms of his orgasm take over, milking his pleasure just as he’d done for her.

“That was fucking amazing,” he said, pulling out. He slapped his sensitive cock against her swollen cunt a few times, relishing the feel of her. The moment gradually faded from wild pleasure to sweet contentment. The shower water continued to run, steam filling up around them. He lifted his head, looking into her eyes.

She sighed, gazing down at him. “I need you, too, Mulder. I always have. And I don’t know what I would’ve done without you, who I would’ve become. You changed my life just as much.”

He nodded. He knew she loved him just as much as he loved her. Knew if fate suddenly brought her back to that opportune moment in the FBI basement over fifteen years ago, knowing all that she knew now, she’d do it all over again. Just like he would.

Mulder let her down to stand, then picked up the bottle of soap and began to wash her shoulders, chest, back, and legs. While she rinsed off under the spray of warm water, he took the soap to his own body. Soon the water was shut off, and Scully pulled a towel off the bar outside the shower. Draping it over his head, she rubbed it through his hair. He reached for another towel. He wrapped it around her shoulders and then stepped out of the shower.

“I hate to ruin the mood, but I really have to get ready for work, Mulder,” she said, wrapping the towel around her torso and folding it under her arms.

He kissed the corner of her mouth. “I know. But you better get dressed quick, Scully, or I’ll be tempted to get those handcuffs out and keep you here.”

Laughing, she stepped out of the shower. He watched her walk out of the bathroom. Scully hadn’t breathed a word about the possibility of joining him at the university, even though he had told her what Drs. Matheson and Buckley had said regarding their initial ideas for her involvement, that they’d originally planned on getting them as a team. Mulder hoped she was at least considering it, hoped she’d once again take up their work, believing their rightful place was at each other’s side.


	153. "You think the miracles I perform are the extent of my power?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Wyoming, life grows complicated for William.
> 
> Sidenote: This chapter was the first thing I started writing when I came back to this fic two months ago. I wrote quite a lot and then hit a wall. I realized the events of IWTB had to happen first. So, I saved what I had written about William, put it on the back burner, and started over again. The only part of William's story in this chapter I changed after that initial draft was I aged him up slightly since I decided the events would happen post-IWTB. Even the song I chose is the same. I did slightly change a couple conversations to incorporate new canon we know about William, but the events in this chapter were already outlined and partly written long before "Ghouli" aired and its blog went public. I hope you all like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping At Last - "Silhouettes"
> 
> You wrote your name in invisible ink,  
> For you were so afraid of what they might think.  
> But the scars they left, they were loud and clear,  
> Weren't they, weren't they?
> 
> When it's too much to bear, memories erase.  
> A disappearing act, deserving of our thanks.  
> When it surfaces, just hold your breath  
> And swim, just swim.
> 
> You begged and begged for some kind of change:  
> Maybe they'd wake up tomorrow and regret the pain  
> That they've passed down to you like DNA,  
> But no luck, no luck.
> 
> It seems only by the hand of God or death,  
> Will they truly change their silhouettes.  
> For a miracle or a consequence,  
> You wait and wait.
> 
> Maybe distance is the only cure?  
> Far away from hurt is where healing occurs.  
> But all you really want to do is make them proud,  
> Don't you, don't you?
> 
> It must be so hard, in the mess you're always cleaning up,  
> To believe in the ghost of unbroken love.  
> But I promise you,  
> The truth is that you're loved, so loved.

August 16, 2009

It was a hot summer day, the kind that reminded people of hellfire. The sun was shining brightly in a blue, cloudless sky. The Van de Kamps arrived home from Zion Baptist Church, and not long after there was a knock on their front door. William walked out of his downstairs bedroom and made for the door, his dog Scout following behind him. After a second knock, he opened it to reveal Jesse Dixon standing there in his jet-black church suit.

The Dixons didn’t attend the same church they did. They went to St. Margaret’s Catholic Church in Riverton. His parents had once told him it was the only Catholic Church around, and there weren’t too many Catholics in Fremont County. Most folks attended other churches. William often wondered what was the difference between Catholics and everyone else, but hadn’t yet found a real answer.

“Hi Jesse,” he said. “What’cha doin’?”

“Hello Billy,” greeted Jesse. “I’m goin’ fishin’ and was wonderin’ if your daddy wanted to go with me.”

He turned to glance behind, but didn’t see either of his parents in the dining or living rooms. “Pa’s still upstairs changing out of his church clothes. Ma’s upstairs, too. Do you wanna come in and wait for him to come down? You could probably eat lunch with us, if you want.”

Jesse hesitated and seemed to eye him suspiciously. William got a strong feeling that he was nervous about coming in the house.

“No, that’s all right,” he finally replied. “I’ll just get on home. Elthea will have lunch waiting for me. Give my message to your daddy, now.”

“Yes, sir. I will.”

With a quick nod, he turned and walked off the front porch, and William closed the door. The feeling he had lingered, and he strongly suspected that Jesse Dixon did not want to be alone with him if he could help it. It wasn’t a good feeling. He was one of the few people whose opinion mattered to him the most. The thought of Jesse being angry at him, or worse, disliking him, was enough to give him a stomach ache. He always deemed any difficulty or annoyance as “foolishness,” and William lived in fear of his ever judging him to be so.

After he ate his lunch, he packed his sketch pad and colored pencils into his new backpack and walked out of the house, his loyal four-legged companion following at his heels. As he stepped out through the back door, he called out to his mother to let her know he was going outside. He walked through the garden, passing the many rows of herbs and vegetables, until he came to the wooded area that separated the Van de Kamp property line with the old Ferguson farm where Jesse and Elthea Dixon lived.

Removing his backpack from around his shoulders, William sat down beneath a sprawling shade tree, soaking in the sweetness of the place with every breath. Songbirds and butterflies fluttered to and fro, squirrels and chipmunks skittered across the grass, bumble bees drank nectar from wildflowers, and the raucous buzzing sound of cicadas filled the air. Unzipping his backpack, he removed the sketch pad and flipped to the last page he had used.

On the page was a drawing of a pretty woman’s face he had started earlier that morning before church. He didn’t know who she was, but he had dreamt about her last night and every night for the past month. Before, his dreams of her had only occurred once in a while, but they were happening more often now. Sometimes he dreamt the woman was happy and smiling, even singing. Sometimes he dreamt she was sad, with tears running down her face as he tried desperately to reach her. But she always faded away before he ever could.

Gazing down at the outline on the page, William reached for his box of Crayola colored pencils. It was the 50-pack, his favorite, that he had gotten when his mother had taken him back-to-school shopping last week. Back in May he couldn’t wait for school to end and summer to start, but by the middle of July he wondered at the long days passing so slowly and how to fill the hours. Now that school was to start up again in just two days, he felt something like a small sense of regret over wasted time.

He chose several colored pencils and began filling in the woman’s hair on the page. It was red, like the color his light brown hair turned when in the bright sunshine. After he finished with her hair he colored in her face, and then her eyes. They were a lighter shade of blue than his much darker ones. When he had finished the drawing, he stared down at the page. A hundred questions filled his mind.

“Billy!”

His mother’s voice snapped him out of his reverie. He quickly packed away his sketch pad and colored pencils, and hurried back toward the house. As he approached the back door, he saw her standing in the doorway, an apron tied around her waist. The most useful piece of clothing she owned, she’d once said to him. Looking up at his mother’s face, taking in her brown eyes and dark hair, an image flashed in his mind of her large, deep granite saucepot, boiling water, and mason jars.

Martha Van de Kamp greeted her son with a smile. “Hon, can you run over and ask Elthea if she has any rubber jar rings? It’s the middle of canning season and I’ve run out.”

“Yes, ma’am,” William nodded.

Five minutes later, he knocked on the Dixons’ back door and then opened it without waiting for a response. “Hi Elthea,” he said, stepping inside. She was in the kitchen, still in her green church dress, ironing Jesse’s shirts.

She smiled as she looked up from her work. She never seemed to mind him traipsing in and out of her kitchen, or having him underfoot on days when she was working over at his house. All day long he’d hear her humming or singing as she went about doing housework, leaving a trail of melody wherever she went. “Hi, baby. What brings you over here on a Sunday afternoon?”

“Ma is canning and ran out of rubber jar rings. You got any?”

Elthea shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t. I ran out of them myself the other day.”

William sighed and sat down at her small kitchen table. “You got any cowboy cookies in your breadbox?”

She smirked, setting the hot iron aside. “Not today. But I’ve got something else that’s just as good.” Walking away from the ironing board, she moved over to the countertop and sliced him a piece of cake. He watched her retrieve a plate and fork, before getting out a small glass and pouring some ginger ale.

“Here you go, baby,” she said, setting the plate and glass down in front of him on the table. “Banana spice cake.”

William thanked her and watched her move back to her ironing board. “How do you walk around in those high heels, Elthea?”

She gave him a smirk as she picked up the hot iron. “Same way you walk around on those flat ones.”

He nodded and then began drinking his ginger ale in morose silence as she returned to her ironing.

“What’s the matter, hon?” Elthea looked at him as her iron glided around the buttons of a shirt.

“Nothing.”

She pursed her lips. “Come on, now. You look as dark as thunder. What’s on your mind? You worried about school starting up again? Third grade, and getting a new teacher. It’s a big deal.” She smiled.

William picked up his fork, lightly stabbing his piece of cake. “I had another dream about her last night. She was crying.”

“The redheaded woman?”

He nodded. “I wish I knew who she was. But I feel like I know her. But I don’t know from where. I’ve never seen her before… except in my dreams. I see her every night now.” He paused, hesitating to voice anymore aloud, and took a bite of cake. After swallowing, he finally got up the nerve to ask the one question that had been on his mind for months. “Do you… do you think she could be my mother? I don’t mean Ma, I mean…”

Elthea stilled her iron and looked up at him. “I know what you mean. Well, now, I suppose anything is possible.”

“I tried to get to her in my dream, but I couldn’t. It’s always like that.”

“Hon, don’t you fret too much over dreams,” she said with an easy smile and reassuring voice. “Dreams are funny. No use trying to make sense of ‘em.”

William finished eating his cake while Elthea told him all about the movie she and Jesse had seen on Saturday night. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was about, except Eddie Murphy and aliens. He knew she loved going to the movies, or the Cheyenne Little Theatre to see live shows, where she could watch actors sing and dance on stage. He watched her move about the kitchen, still telling him the details of her favorite scenes.

An image flashed in his mind of a building with a neon vertical sign out front that said _Acme_ , with titles and times listed on the sign underneath in large red letters. And then an image of standing in front of a counter, a girl with a blonde ponytail handing over popcorn, candy, and soda. It was as clear as a picture, except the memory wasn’t his. The closest movie theater was in Riverton, over 20 miles away, and he’d never been there before.

“Jesse laughed and laughed,” Elthea continued. “He loved the movie.”

Her words brought him out of his reverie. “I’ve never heard Jesse laugh like that.”

She scoffed. “Nonsense.”

“How long you and Jesse been married?” he asked.

“Oh, a long time: 22 years now. Some days it feels longer than others.” She smirked again. “But he’s a good man, my Jesse.”

“How come you never had any kids?”

Elthea shrugged. “It just wasn’t in God’s plan for us, I guess. We’ve got you hanging around, though. You’re enough of a handful as it is.” She grinned at him, her eyes glinting humorously.

William watched her spread another wrinkled shirt across the ironing board. “Were you born in Wyoming, or did you come from somewhere else like me?”

She looked up from her work. “My, my, you’re full of questions today. I don’t think you’ve ever asked me so much about myself before.” She stared at him curiously. “No, I wasn’t born in Wyoming. We came to America when I was six years old, and came up here to live near some relatives. My folks were islanders.”

“What island?” he asked.

“St. Lucia, in the Caribbean. I’ve told you all about the Caribbean before, hon.”

He thought for a moment, wishing he could run away someday and see those glittering islands, where women carried baskets of fruit on their heads and nobody ever had to wear snow boots. “Have you ever been back to St. Lucia?”

“Oh, a long time ago,” she answered. “Before I was married.”

William stared down at the table, drumming his fingers on top of it. “Do you ever wish you still lived on the island? That you were in your real home? Where you were born?”

Considering him for a moment, she thought she knew where these questions were coming from. “Folks always miss they home. But, hon, Fremont County is the only home I’ve ever known. This is where I grew up. This _is_ my real home. This is where my family is, my friends, everyone I love. This is where I belong.” She smiled. “My folks came here because it was a better quality of life. There wasn’t a lot of work on the islands. A lot of poor folks.”

“We’re poor.”

Elthea shrieked with laughter. “No, you’re not, not by a longshot. You don’t know it, and maybe it doesn’t seem like it compared to other folks in town, but you’re rich. You really are.” She shook her head, sighing. “Baby, you don’t know what poor _is_ . Take Jesse’s daddy. He lost his job many years ago and then their family was poor. And I mean _dirt poor_. Eventually he found work again, but for a long time Jesse and his brothers and sisters grew up with next to nothin’.”

William chewed the last bite of his cake and drank down the last of his ginger ale, quietly thinking while he watched Elthea work. Like her husband, she was tall and thin, and had a graceful way of walking. He decided it was because when she was a child she’d probably been allowed to go barefoot year-round on the island, spending her days with palm trees and beaches and ever-sunny skies. Her skin was smooth and glossy, and she had the biggest, widest smile, completely unlike the somber Jesse. But, as his Pa once said, opposites attract. He supposed his Pa was right.

He then asked another question that had been nagging him for a while. “Does he like me?”

Elthea hung a freshly pressed shirt on one end of the board. “Jesse? He likes you just fine, hon.” She chuckled. “I can’t picture Jesse disliking anybody, unless they truly deserved it.”

Despite her words, he still wondered about Jesse; he could have such a frowning, disapproving air about him, especially when people came around the farm who he felt shouldn’t come around. Or whenever William had one of his “episodes,” as his Pa called them. He tried to control them as best he could, particularly in school, but sometimes odd things happened and he couldn’t help it. There were times when he’d catch Jesse turn one of those frowning looks of disapproval in his direction, and it would twist his stomach into knots.

He sighed. “Where’s Jesse? Is he still fishing?”

“Yes, he took his pole down to the creek. Did your daddy go with him?”

“No, he had to tend to the cows, he said.” William got up from the table, thanked Elthea for the cake and ginger ale, and then went out the kitchen door. He ran to the back of the Dixons’ yard and looked down to the creek, one of many waterways that fed into the nearby Boysen Reservoir. He saw Jesse in his skiff, edging along the bank.

He went down the slope of the hill and stood waving on the bank until he got his attention. “How’s about a ride?” he called out.

He nodded, and William kicked off his sneakers, pulled off his socks, and waded out a couple feet before climbing over the stern of the little skiff. He took in Jesse’s blue jeans, burgundy and white baseball tee, and sneakers. “How’s the fishing going?”

“Oh, you know… Fishing’s fishing. I caught a few yellow perch, is all.”

“You like fishing, huh?” asked William.

“I like it.”

That was Jesse. Sometimes he could hardly ever get him to speak more than one sentence at a time. But William knew he was full of all sorts of thoughts, thoughts that seemed so big and important he felt if he could just discover what they were all about he’d be better off. Some days his thoughts were louder than others, and some days William couldn’t hear them at all. He’s wiser than many, which makes him wiser than most, his Pa had once said.

Jesse rowed a little, then stopped to fish a little, remaining silent.

“School starts up on Tuesday,” William said.

“So, it does.”

Silence.

“Do you reckon I’ll still be the tallest in my class?”

“Might be.”

Silence.

“Jesse?”

“Huh?”

“Eric and Joey Kuykendall are gonna be in my class this year. They got held back. They won’t be going to fourth grade.”

“Those twins who gave you some trouble a few months back? Did you ever tell your mama and daddy about what happened?”

William shook his head. “They’d just make a big fuss over it.” He started chewing on his lip. “I haven’t seen the twins all summer, but they still think I’m a freak. They said so to Tommy Pierson. He told me at the county fair.” He paused. “Do you think I’m strange?”

“We’re all a little strange.”

“The other kids in school say I’m spooky. I think I’m a different sort of strange.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

Silence.

“Jesse? Do you think my birth mother knew I was strange? And that’s why she sent me away? I wish I knew.”

“Maybe you’re not supposed to know. It’s never good to go rooting around in God’s business too much.”

William nodded, and thought maybe the woman with red hair was part of God’s business and that he’d better leave it up to Him. Sighing, he turned and gazed out at the water. Despite his reserved manner, Jesse Dixon wasn’t a man he could ever take for granted. He was as much a fixture in his young life as the walls or the roof of his house, as much a steady figure as his own parents. It may have been Elthea who fed him and looked after him, but every day Jesse’s quiet presence asserted itself in a hundred small ways and he had become like a second father to him.

To William, he had the look of a pirate, with a strong, square jaw, prominent nose, high cheekbones, and chiseled lips. When he smiled, his perfectly straight teeth flashed a brilliant white, though there wasn’t much of this shade in his eyes, whose brown centers were surrounded with a white that sometimes looked almost yellow or reddish. His short-cropped hair was like a wool cap atop his head.

His hands were long and beautiful, and his fingernails were perfectly shaped, rounded at the ends, almost purple in color, with paler half-moons, and always well-kept. All the veins in his hands showed under the dark skin, but he had much lighter palms. One time, William had asked Elthea if the reason his palms were so pale was because he’d scrubbed them too hard. She’d laughed and laughed over that, but he hadn’t been sure what was so funny about it.

He was tall and lean and strong, but despite his size William rarely heard him coming or going when he was around. If he concentrated, and Jesse was at ease going about his work on the farm, not realizing he was nearby and watching, he sometimes believed he could hear the man thinking. Not now, though. His posture was kind of stiff, as if he was on guard.

Like his Pa, Jesse was his hero. His quiet, strong presence gave off a sense of authority that inspired obedience and respect. When he was around, William felt safe and protected. He felt no pressures that unsettled him, only the strong desire to gain his approval and friendship, and he felt like he still had some ways to go to meet that end. He often observed Jesse’s dignified manner, his intelligence, his flashes of dry humor, the bright look that told William he’d done something right, the dark look that told him he’d done something wrong, or his groaning sounds of disapproval whenever he was misbehaving.

William encountered those noises when he again interrupted his concentration and tried to make conversation. “Jesse?”

Another groan. “Hmm?”

“What if something happens to me?”

Jesse gave him a look and heaved a sigh. “Happens to you when?”

“When I’m in school, and I get… you know, funny. Like last year, after I had an episode, and the twins jumped me and called me a freak. What if it happens again?”

He sat in silence for a moment, thinking the matter over, while bobbing his fishing pole up and down. “Well, I’ll give you a piece of advice, very good advice that I learned at a young age and I’ve followed all my life: Be peaceful, be courteous, obey the law, respect everyone; but if someone puts his hand on you, send him to the cemetery.”

William sat quietly, taking in what he had said. “Have you ever killed anyone, Jesse?”

The man scoffed. “Of course not, boy. It just means that when under attack, a man’s got to defend himself.” He gave him a look. “Do you know who gave me that advice?”

He shook his head.

“Malcolm X.”

“Was he your teacher?”

Jesse shrugged. “In a way. He taught me through books. I’ve read his articles and speeches, his biographies, seen videos of his conversations. When you get older, I’ll lend you my books and you can read them.”

William thought for a moment. “But who is he?”

“He was a great man when he was alive. He was against every form of discrimination. He believed all human beings should be respected as such, regardless of their color.”

“What color?”

Turning, Jesse gave him a curious look. “Their skin color, son. I don’t suppose your parents have ever told you that y’all are different from me and Elthea?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Well, doesn’t Elthea teach you anything useful when she’s around the house?”

He chewed his bottom lip. “She taught me how to sew a button onto my shirt last week.”

“Good Lord.” He set his fishing pole aside. “Show me your arm.”

William lifted his bare forearm and leaned over, placing it next to Jesse’s larger, outstretched arm.

“Now, what do you notice about ‘em?”

“They look different.”

Jesse nodded. “Yes, they’re different. Different, how?”

He looked down again. “One’s light and one’s dark.”

“That’s right. And there’s some folks out there who take this difference very seriously, who believe folks with dark skin aren’t human beings.”

“But why?”

He sighed. “Because some folks have hate in their hearts. A black person is just as individual and particular as a white person, is a human being all the same. But there’s some people in this world who believe it’s the whites who’ve inherited the earth, and they don’t want darker folks to have any part of it.”

As William lowered his arm, a sad feeling welled up inside him. “But that’s not fair. Did you learn all this from Malcolm X?”

Jesse’s mouth twitched, as if he was trying to fight a grin. “Partly. Mostly from life. There aren’t a lot of black folks in Wyoming. In larger cities and towns, sure there are some. But besides Elthea and me, there’s none that live in this town. There aren’t any in that school you go to. I’ve been treated differently all my life, been called freak and much worse. So, don’t you pay no mind to what them boys say about you. Keep your head held high and remember what Malcolm X said.”

He stared at his raised brows, his expectant look, and knew he wanted him to recite it. “Be peaceful, be courteous, obey the law, and respect everyone.” He paused, thinking. “But if someone puts his hands on you, send him to…”

“Well, uh… maybe don’t go quoting that last part,” he interrupted. “It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to go around repeating that at your age. Just focus on the first part for now, and listen to what I’m telling you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you won’t let the other kids get you down. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Then shake on it, son.”

William smiled, and offered his hand to the outstretched palm in front of him. “Shake, Jesse.”

*****

A little while later, after the skiff had been tied to the small dock, they walked back up the hill toward the house, where Elthea was standing outside the back door waiting for them. And she wasn’t alone. He took one look at his mother to know she was hot under the collar.

“ _William Jackson Van de Kamp_ , where in the blazes have you been? I told you well over an hour ago to come over here and fetch some rubber jar rings. Or have you plumb forgot?”

“But Elthea didn’t have any, Ma. So, I went down to see Jesse while he was fishing.”

His mother heaved a frustrated sigh, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

Jesse and Elthea exchanged amused looks. “Martha, we were gonna be heading into town to the store in a bit,” she said. “We can pick up some rubber jar rings for you. I have to get some for myself, anyway.”

“Billy can get them,” she replied. Taking some cash out of her apron pocket, she handed the bills over to her son. “ _Go_ to the store with the Dixons, _buy_ some rings and more mason jars while you’re at it, and come right back; don’t go _anywhere_ else,” she admonished him. “Don’t wander off to the arcade, or over to B  & K’s. Is that _clear?”_

“Yes, ma’am.” He had the tendency to go off on his own, ditching her inside the store and running off down the street to spend his pocket money at the candy shop or on a few rounds of Space Invaders.

Soon after, William was climbing into the backseat of Jesse’s blue Chevy Silverado. They took the five-mile drive into town. Shoshoni, with a population less than 700, did not have the variety or conveniences of a small city like Riverton. Most of its shops and businesses were contained within one four-block radius in the center of town as well as the library, post office, elementary school, community recreation center, police station, and town hall. North of this radius lay the high school and various churches.

Upon reaching the only traffic light in town, smack dab in the middle of the four-block center, where Idaho and 2nd Streets crossed, Jesse turned left and drove several yards before reaching the White Buffalo Trading Post. After the truck was parked and William got out, he observed the side lawn of the big house across the street, where a dog was chained to a tree and incessantly barking at passersby. His parents called that house _the Mansion_ , and he could tell it wasn’t a good thing by the way their voices sounded when they said it. He knew who lived there: Mr. Russell Spence and his wife, Mrs. Linda Spence.

Russell Spence was a retired businessman, and both he and his wife were on the town council. They were the richest people in town, and also the meanest. He often heard his parents describe him as “a grouch” and “a cheapskate,” and he sensed the disapproval whenever he was mentioned by them or the Dixons, which only deepened his own dislike of the man. Mr. Spence strongly believed in his own importance, but he wasn’t so to William, or the rest of the town’s youth. He was actually their nemesis. Arrogant, mean, and selfish, he was a child-hater to the bone. All the kids in town knew they were never to use his massive yard as a shortcut or he’d sic his dogs on them.

He was short and round, forever with a cigar hanging out the corner of his mouth, his expression was continuously unpleasant, and his tone of voice was always disagreeable. He was in the dog-breeding business, a hobby he’d picked up after retiring several years ago. He owned Welsh Springer Spaniels, beautiful dogs with long, soft coats in a dark, rich red and white pattern, and eyes full of playfulness and affection. They were the sort of dogs that people loved to pet, but of course, no one ever dared pet Russell Spence’s dogs.

William knew the adults didn’t much care for Mr. Spence either. Whenever there was a town meeting to discuss improvements, he could be counted on to oppose anything progressive based on general principle. He could start an argument in an empty house, his Pa had once said. A few months earlier, his parents and the Dixons got home late from a Town Council Meeting due to Russell Spence holding session for several hours because he didn’t want the town to pay for the upkeep of the community center’s pool. After they’d come home, his Ma had said he was so cheap he wouldn’t give a nickel to see Jesus riding a bicycle.

Several weeks ago, Russell Spence made a comment to Mr. Matuschek, who owned the barbershop, and somehow it got back to his parents. Mr. Spence said, while watching Ma drive by with Elthea in the passenger seat, that the Van de Kamps were too familiar with their inferiors, who should be kept in their rightful place. His parents had only rolled their eyes when they’d heard it and his Ma said that Russell Spence had his nose so high in the air he’d drown in a rainstorm.

 _“Jesse and Elthea aren’t our inferiors just because they work on the farm with us. They’re not servants. Mr. Spence is just afraid that the Dixons are superior to_ him _,”_ his Pa had said. _“And they are.”_

Turning away from the Mansion, William walked with Jessie and Elthea into the store. The White Buffalo Trading Post was several businesses in one; there was a general store, a restaurant, and a gun shop. The general store had everything from groceries and household goods to alcohol and tobacco to movie rentals and fishing supplies. The restaurant served breakfast, lunch, and dinner daily, and Tony Nucci, the cook, had a wide variety of American and Italian food on the menu. The gun shop was only open three days a week, and had a selection of firearms, ammunition, and hunting supplies.

Once inside the store, Elthea grabbed a cart and they started shopping. Soon a whole bunch of mason jars and extra rubber rings were retrieved off the shelves. When they made their way back toward the front of the store, Jesse stopped at the newspaper rack and picked up _The Washington Post_. He perused the front page. “A university in Virginia is running some paranormal science center and they’re testing all sorts of nonsense,” he said to Elthea.

“What’s paranormal mean?” William asked, the word sparking his interest. “Is it something… not normal?”

Jesse glanced down at him. “You should look it up in the dictionary when you get home.” He finally shook his head and set the newspaper back down. “Good Lord, white folks sure do some foolish things.”

“White folks?” William furrowed his brows as he looked up at him.

“Yep.”

He nodded his head in agreement, becoming serious. “Yes, sir. White folks.”

Jesse chuckled and Elthea starting giggling, her eyes sparkling as she stared down at him, her marvelous laugh like music to his ears. “What am I going to do with you, child?” She bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek as she hugged him to her side with one arm.  

“God Almighty, don’t that boy know that is a black woman?”

William started to turn, looking for the source of the words. His gaze then fell on Mr. Russell Spence, standing about 20 feet away, leaning against the counter where people usually stood in line to get their hunting and fishing licenses, staring at them. As usual, a cigar was jammed in his mouth, but he wasn’t speaking to anyone, just standing in front of the counter by himself. But the words had been loud, loud enough for him to hear. He turned back and looked up at Elthea, who was still laughing to herself. It seemed like she and Jesse hadn’t heard it at all.

“That boy’s got the wrong idea,” the voice spoke again, and then it said folks will start calling him a _something_ -lover if he wasn’t careful.

Again, he turned, and there was Mr. Spence, still standing at the counter staring daggers at him, and yet silent. He knew in his heart that Russell Spence had been the one saying those things, even if he wasn’t speaking them out loud. The man had only been thinking the words, but he’d heard them just the same. But William didn’t understand what he was saying. He’d called him a word he’d never heard before, and he didn’t know what it meant. But the man's tone of voice told him it was something mean and ugly, and he couldn’t imagine anyone saying mean and ugly things about Elthea, or Jesse.

“What’s the matter, hon?”

Startled, William spun around and looked up at Elthea’s concerned face, swallowing. “Didn’t you hear what he said?”

Her brows knitted in curiosity. “What who said?”

Sighing, he shook his head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “All right, then. Well, we’ve got some more things to get on our list. So, come on.”

He nodded, and decided to turn back around one last time before they walked off to make sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. But Mr. Spence was moving away from the counter and out the store exit, the bell on the door ringing as it opened and shut. Through the large storefront windows, William watched Russell Spence strut across the street, heading over to the big house.

Half an hour later, they were in the checkout aisle and William noticed a group of boys around the claw machine against the wall near the entrance door. Tommy Pierson, whose family farm was just a half-mile up the road from the Van de Kamp’s, was moving the lever and frantically pressing the button, trying to direct the claw toward his chosen prize. The Kuykendall twins, Eric and Joey, were watching and spouting advice, along with Lenny Casper and Dale Phillips. Again, he was reminded of the fast-approaching first day of school, a sense of dread coming over him.

Once the mason jars and other items had been paid for, they made their way toward the exit. As they walked, William couldn’t help but stare at the laughing boys, feeling left out of their games, excluded from their group. Just as they reached the exit, Jesse told them he’d join them outside in a moment, as he’d forgotten something at the bait and tackle counter. After William and Elthea left the store, he turned and walked over to the boys at the claw machine, coming to a stop just behind them and clearing his throat.

The claw dropped, the three metallic prongs wrapped around a purple stuffed dragon, but as it started to lift up, the toy slipped from its grasp and the claw returned to the start of the machine. The boys groaned and turned around. The sight of Jesse Dixon standing over them made their eyes widen.

“I hear you boys have a problem with Billy Van de Kamp.”

Their mouths fell open. Leonard Casper, a boy of ten with a suntanned face covered in freckles, was the first to recover. “Don’t you think Billy’s kind of a weirdo, Mr. Dixon?”

He pursed his lips. “The point is not what I think. The point is, do you?”

The boys all exchanged looks. “Sorta,” answered Dale, an eleven-year-old with a mop of red curls on top of his head.

“There’s nothing humbug about Billy Van de Kamp,” said Jesse. “You boys all go pallin’ around with each other, but you ought to let him come and pal around with you. He spends too much time with us grown folks, or all by himself. It’s not proper, not fitting, to treat a person that way. He’s a good fellow to have around.”

“No kidding?” Joey Kuykendall replied skeptically.

He nodded. “No kidding.”

The other twin, Eric, furrowed his brows. “In what way?”

“That’s what y’all should find out. He might have a few tricks up his sleeve that’ll surprise you. Now, school starts on Tuesday, and if I get wind of any foolishness, I’ll just have to tell Mrs. Van de Kamp to pay your mamas a visit. You boys understand what I’m saying?”

The boys exchanged nervous glances before looking back up at Jesse and nodding. “Yes, sir,” they answered.

He gave them a stern look and a polite nod, before turning and leaving the store. As Jesse made his way over to his truck, he saw that a small crowd had gathered outside, everyone staring across the street. William turned at the sight of his approach, and then pointed over at the side lawn of the big house. One of Mr. Spence’s dogs, chained to a tree, was still barking for all it was worth, and its owner was shouting for all he was worth to make the dog be quiet. Folks on both sides of the street had stopped what they were doing to ogle the commotion.

Red in the face, huffing and puffing, Russell Spence threw his cigar on the grass and marched over to the house, disappearing around the corner. Seconds later, he was walking back carrying a garden hose in his hand. He stopped a few feet in front of the tree, turned the hose on full blast, and then aimed it at the dog. The animal tried to escape the jet, running to and fro, until finally circling the tree until it was completely twisted up in the chain and couldn’t run anymore. Whatever Mr. Spence’s intentions, the water hadn’t made the dog quiet down. It cowered on the ground, shivering, giving off loud whimpering and yelping noises that twisted William’s stomach.

Enraged, Mr. Spence threw the hose away, which immediately began writhing about across the grass. He undid his buckle, pulled out his belt and folded it in half, and starting beating the dog’s rear end. People were so shocked they could only stare frozen in horror, mouths open and eyes bulging. Until Elthea stepped forward, her voice ringing out loud and clear. “For shame! Russell Spence, you control yourself!” She turned to her husband. “Jesse, do somethin’.”

Determined, he began to move to cross the street, but then Mr. Spence looked over. “Don’t you dare set foot on my property or I’ll call the police and have you arrested for trespassin’!” He then went on an irate tirade about folks minding their damn business, his dog still cowering and yipping in terror, and then he returned to the task of beating the noise out of it.

William had never been so angry in all his life. He hated that Russell Spence. He was mean and ugly and cruel. Breathing hard, his hands balled into tight fists, jaw clenched, hot tears falling down his cheeks, he felt the dog’s pain and fear. He stared across the street, wishing the man could get a taste of his own medicine. Suddenly, the garden hose snaked into the air and turned its jet on Mr. Spence, dousing him from head to toe. He screeched and spun around. The hose continued to snake towards him, and he received a blast of water full in the face. The belt in his hand then swung around, seemingly of its own accord, and began smacking him upside his head as he cried out. It appeared as if Russell Spence was beating himself with his own belt.

Onlookers didn’t know whether to laugh or worry, and a mixture of confused sounds were heard among the gathered crowd. Jesse and Elthea turned to gaze at each other, mouths agape. They then shared a look of realization and stared down at the child standing between them, staring determinedly at Mr. Spence. Hurriedly, Elthea crossed herself, muttering “Lord Jesus” under her breath, and grabbed hold of William, turning him toward the blue Chevy, where Jesse was quickly opening the rear passenger door.

As soon as he was safely inside the back seat, buckling his seatbelt, the antics across the street at the big house suddenly stopped. Mrs. Linda Spence came flying out the back door, berating her husband all the way back inside the house, the door giving a good, loud whack when it shut behind them. Jesse pulled out of the White Buffalo parking lot as the crowd on the sidewalk began dispersing, the poor dog soon forgotten.

The drive back to the Van de Kamp farm was a quiet one. What had happened back there to Mr. Spence, William knew he had done it, he’d made it happen, but he wished he knew how. He kept glancing into the front seat, where he could see Jesse and Elthea’s concerned faces, their eyes frequently darting into the rearview or side mirrors to gaze back at him. It was obvious he had scared them, a feeling which twisted his guts into knots. These odd episodes were starting to happen more often, but he didn’t know what to do about it. William stared out his window in morose silence, believing he was definitely a different sort of strange, wondering if something was wrong with him, worrying about what could happen to him if it got worse. He then remembered the newspaper Jesse had been reading inside the store, and decided to look up the word ‘paranormal’ in the dictionary, just as he’d said he should.

*****

September 26, 2009

On a warm Saturday afternoon, William found himself standing next to his family’s large chicken coop with Tommy Pierson, Dale Phillips, Lenny Casper, and the Kuykendall twins. The coop resembled a small wooden house, painted white and red, and it was home to six hens. At its tallest point, the peak of the tiled roof, it was almost seven feet high. The boys had gathered in front of it, Tommy Pierson having suggested a novel idea they’d all took an instant shine to.

Tommy had had a rough week. On Monday morning, he’d been the last one to arrive in the classroom. After hanging up his backpack and sitting down at his desk next to William’s, he’d promptly buried his face in his arms and burst into tears. The teacher had to escort him out of the room and they were gone for a long time. She then returned to the classroom without Tommy and he didn’t show up at school again until Wednesday. He spent the day in silence, not speaking to anybody, and occasionally weeping from time to time. Finally, on Thursday he’d told William what the trouble was: his older brother, Terry, who was in 10th grade and went to the high school, was having big problems.

So, on Friday morning while waiting for the bus, when Lenny and Dale had announced the completion of their latest project, Tommy felt the need to have some real fun with it. The two boys had brought this project with them to the Van de Kamp farm: a large kite measuring eight feet across. They’d used more than twenty-five square feet of canvas and had gotten Dale’s grandmother to stitch it for them on her sewing machine. The frame was light, a cross made of bamboo, and they’d worked hard, along with the twins, in Lenny’s cellar to finish it.

Yesterday at school, upon the announcement of the completed project, Tommy had proposed they test the kite out as a hang glider. It was soon decided they would test it by flying off the roof of the Van de Kamp’s chicken coop, and so on Saturday afternoon they put their plan into action. It was soon settled on that Dale, the oldest, would try it out first. He easily climbed to the roof, and then Lenny lifted the kite into the air until his friend grabbed hold of it. Holding the kite over his head, Dale leapt from the roof and made the easy jump into the bed of mulch that lay next to the chicken coop. Soon all the boys had followed suit.

“It’s not much of a jump,” said Tommy, scratching his head.

“We can’t test it as a hang glider on this thing,” Lenny said, pointing his thumb at the coop. “It’s not tall enough.”

Dale nodded. “We need a higher roof.”

The boys walked around the property a bit before their eyes fell on Jesse’s Cape Cod greenhouse a short distance away, its peaked roof measuring twenty feet off the ground. Carrying the large kite, Dale led them across the invisible property line that separated the Van de Kamp farm from the Dixons’ place.

Elthea, with a basket under her arm, on her way to pin clean laundry on the clothesline, stopped when she saw the boys. She smiled, although her eyes squinted suspiciously. “And what’re y’all up to?”

“We’re going to fly,” William answered.

“I don’t think it’s windy enough to be flyin’ a kite, hon.”

He went to correct her, but the twins hushed him, shaking their heads for him to keep quiet. They kept on walking until they reached their destination. Turning around, they made sure Elthea was no longer in sight before they commenced with their plan. But as soon as they all lifted their heads to look up at the roof, they simply stared up at it for several moments. William could see that Lenny and Dale were starting to have doubts about the whole thing. Seizing his moment to impress the older boys, he stalked off toward Jesse’s tool shed, retrieved a ladder, and returned to the group. After placing the ladder against the wall of the greenhouse, he took the kite from Dale’s hand and began to climb while the boys held the side rails.

Struggling to hold onto the large kite and maintain his precarious hold on the ladder, he soon made it to the greenhouse roof. On his knees, he scooted himself carefully along the peak until he was several inches from the front ledge. He gazed down at the boys, their wide eyes staring up at him twenty feet below.

“Go on,” said Lenny, his freckled face wearing a smug expression. “I dare ya.”

William grasped the kite more firmly, took a deep breath, and jumped. For a few seconds, he felt the wind catch and lift him into the air, a glorious feeling, but then the air as good as disappeared, and he began plummeting to the ground. There was a terrible crash, and the sound of shattering glass. As he hit the ground, he felt an intensely sharp pain in his left leg. He had fallen through one of the lower front glass panes of the greenhouse, and landed on the wire pyramid frame Jesse used to grow his cucumbers and squashes.

He tried to sit up and check just how badly he was injured, but he was too dizzy. He had felt, and heard, something snap when he fell. The boys rushed into the greenhouse, and when they took one look at the amount of blood spurting from his leg, they turned and ran, screaming for help. As William lay bleeding on the ground, the sky above him still spinning, tears streaming down his face, he suddenly had a vision of the woman with red hair. She leaned over him, worried, panicked. She kissed his head. There were tears in her kind blue eyes. He felt her lift him up into her smooth, gentle arms, cradling him against her chest. Was he dead? Had she come to take him to heaven?

“Billy!”

He knew that voice. It was Elthea’s. Blinking his eyes, he now looked up to see Jesse Dixon leaning over him. “Good Lord! You really gone and done it this time, haven’t you? What in Sam Hell were you thinking?”

William grimaced. “Foolishness,” he muttered.

Chuckling darkly, Jesse nodded. “That’s right, boy. Foolishness.”

“If man were meant to fly, God would’ve given him wings,” admonished Elthea.

Wiping away his tears, she helped her husband lift him out of the broken vegetable frame and lay him on the grass outside the greenhouse. Jesse knelt down next to him, assessing the damage. He then walked over to the clothesline, pulled down one of Elthea’s slips. After tearing the undergarment into strips, he hastily formed a tourniquet for William’s leg. Using garden stakes, he fashioned a splint.

The pain was secondary to William compared to the feeling he got at being the center of concerned attention: Elthea holding him and wiping his brow, Jesse tending to his wound, Tommy Pierson’s blanched face, the Kuykendall twins’ shocked gaze, Dale and Lenny looking guilty and ashamed. He was soon lifted into Jesse’s arms and carried home, where he was greeted by the panic-stricken faces of his parents. The other boys followed them inside the house.

Not long after, he was lying in his own bed, where he rested for about fifteen minutes before there was a knock at the bedroom door. He turned his head to see Dr. Franz Kafka, his pediatrician, walking into the room. The doctor took one look at the makeshift splint and tourniquet, and nodded his head, his eyebrows rising in approval.

“And whose handy work is this?”

“Mr. Dixon did that,” Dale said. Lenny, Tommy, and the Kuykendall twins nodded enthusiastically.

“Nice work. You should’ve been a physician, Jesse.”

William looked down at his bandages. “It’s a good thing Elthea’s underwear was hanging on the clothesline,” he quipped dryly.

The kids chuckled, and Dr. Kafka moved over to stand by the bed. His hands went to the splint. “How badly does it hurt, son?”

To his surprise, the pain was gone. What once had been agony, now felt like nothing. He felt fine. William shook his head. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

The doctor eyed him, and then turned to address the Van de Kamps and Dixons. “Was he given any pain reliever?”

Martha exchanged a questioning look with Elthea, and then shook her head. “No, doctor. He wasn’t given anything.”

Dr. Kafka carefully removed the garden-stake splint and put his hands on the boy’s leg, gently feeling the bone. He hummed to himself. He then removed the bloody tourniquet bandage, rolled up the blood-soaked leg of his blue jeans, and examined his skin. He turned the leg this way and that, glancing at William with each movement, his brows raised questioningly.

He only shook his head. “Nope. Doesn’t hurt.”

Standing up straight, Dr. Kafka scratched his head. “Now, are you sure this boy’s leg was actually broken?”

Everyone in the room stared at the doctor for a moment, their gaze then falling on William. Although they remained silent and did not speak, he could hear their voices whispering. He sensed the other boys’ surprise, and them now thinking him to be even more of a weirdo than before. He sensed Jesse and Elthea’s doubt and confusion, sensed his parents’ worry and fear.

“I see no sign of injury in the leg,” said Dr. Kafka. “I don’t know where all this blood on the bandages came from because the leg is perfectly fine. The bone feels sound. There’s been no tearing of the skin, no cuts. He’s in no pain. It looks to me like there was a lot of fuss over nothing.”

Mr. Van de Kamp swallowed, his eyes darting to the other people gathered in the room. “Well, thanks for coming out here, Doc,” he said, shaking the man’s hand. “We appreciate you checking on it, all the same. If there are any other problems with the leg, we’ll take him to the clinic in town.” He hastily turned to the kids in the room. “Okay, boys. Time to get on home. It was nice of you to come over and spend the afternoon with Billy, but I think that’s enough excitement for one day.”

Amid the boys’ confused protests, wondering what had happened to him and why, Jonathan ushered them out of the bedroom. Martha and the doctor then left, followed by Jesse and Elthea, and then William was alone. His stomach was in anxious knots again, a sense of guilt rising up inside him. He felt that his father was worried about him, scared even, and not because of his jumping off the roof of Jesse’s greenhouse.

He sat up on the edge of the bed and rolled down the bloodied denim of his jean leg, quietly waiting for his Pa to come back. As expected, a couple minutes later Jonathan Van de Kamp reentered the room, closing the door behind him, moved the brown foam-filled chair shaped like a baseball glove closer to the bed, and sat down facing his son. Elbows going to his knees, he folded his hands in front of him and sighed.

“I’m sorry, Pa,” he said sheepishly.

“You did a very foolish thing, William.”

He nodded. “Yes, sir. I could’ve been hurt.”

Closing his eyes, Jonathan shook his head. “You _were_ hurt, Billy. You were. And everyone saw that you were. But then you weren’t. Those boys are going to go home and tell their families, who will then tell their neighbors. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, Pa.” He stared his father’s disbelieving expression, and then corrected himself. “I don’t mean the jumping off the greenhouse part. The getting better part.”

“Billy, we’ve talked about this before, many times. You have to keep these… things you can do a secret.”

He nervously played with his fingers. “But I don’t make them happen. They just do.”

Jonathan sat up straight. “I know, son. But you’ve got to find some way to control it. Folks around here… if they got wind of anything… out of the ordinary…” He sighed. “Some might go around saying your gifts are acts of God. Others, well, they might go the opposite way and call it works of the Devil. Either way, they’d be scared.”

“Which is it?” William asked, wide-eyed, feeling desperate for answers.

“What?” He stared at his son, brows furrowing.

He swallowed against the lump forming in his throat, his eyes become wet with unshed tears. “Did God do this to me? Or the Devil?”

Jonathan smiled sadly. “I know it wasn’t the Devil. That’s for certain. As for God… well, I don’t know about all that.”

“But why do these things have to happen to me?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed again, and decided now was the time. “You wait right here. I’ll be back in a second.”

William watched his Pa stand up from his baseball-glove chair, walk across the floor, bypassing the white baseball-shaped ottoman, and disappear from the room. Waiting quietly, he wondered what was going to happen. He listened to his father’s footsteps on the wooden staircase, heading upstairs, and listened as he walked back down a few moments later. Reentering the bedroom, Jonathan handed his son a white envelope.  

He stood up from the bed as he took the envelope from his father’s hand. Looking down, he saw his name written on the front of it, but it wasn’t his Ma’s handwriting or his Pa’s or his teacher’s, Mrs. Doyle. He flipped it over, seeing that it had already been opened. Slowly he pulled out a white piece of paper and set the envelope down on top of his bedspread, a gray duvet covered with colorful depictions of vintage baseball players in blue and white uniforms. Unfolding the paper, he began to read.

“My dearest William,

One day you'll ask me to speak of a truth – of the miracle of your birth. To explain what is unexplained. And if I falter or fail on this day, know there is an answer, my child, a sacred imperishable truth, but one you may never hope to find alone. Chance meeting your perfect other, your perfect opposite – your protector and endangerer. Chance embarking with this other on the greatest of journeys, a search for truths fugitive and imponderable. If one day this chance may befall you, my son, do not fail or falter to seize it. The truths are out there. And if one day you should behold a miracle, as I have in you, you will learn the truth is not found in science, or on some unseen plane, but by looking into your own heart. And in that moment, you will be blessed, and stricken. For the truest truths are what hold us together, or keep us painfully, desperately apart.

Your father and I love you more than you will ever know,

Mom”

He read the words over and over again until the tears in his eyes blinded him, and he could read no more. But through his blindness, he saw her face again. The red hair. The kind blue eyes.

“She calls you a miracle,” Jonathan said softly. He sighed as he sat back down in the chair. “But I can’t say whether that’s a miracle of God, or of science. And it seems like she didn’t know either.”

William nodded, sniffling as he wiped the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand. She also said there was an answer, a truth that was out there for him to one day discover, a truth about him and his birth. He looked at his Pa, not knowing what to say.

“And this question, Billy, might be bigger than you or your birth mama or Martha and me, or even this town,” Jonathan continued. “But people fear what they don’t understand. And when they’re afraid, people can do terrible things. I want nothing more than for you to get the answers to all your questions, but more importantly, I want you to be safe. So, when I say that you need to keep the special things you do a secret, it’s only because I’m trying to protect you.”

William suddenly remembered what he had done last month to Mr. Spence. Was he dangerous? Was this why his birth mother had sent him away as a baby? Was this the reason they were kept apart? What if it only got worse? Raw emotion welled up inside him. Would his Ma and Pa send him away, too? “Tommy Pierson’s older brother had to go away to live with his aunt and uncle.”

Furrowing his brows, Jonathan stared at him, not seeing how this piece of information was connected. “Yes, I think I heard something about that.”

“His parents couldn’t handle him anymore. He was setting fires in the high school and had other problems at home. Tommy said he wasn’t normal, that he was disturbed. He went to Chicago because it’s a big city where he can go to a special hospital. But Tommy said his parents didn’t know if the doctors could fix his brother, or if he’d ever come home.”

He still gazed at his son, wondering for a moment what he was getting at, and then made the connection. The emotional burden the young boy was carrying around made his heart heavy.

William’s emotions nearly choked him, and he felt hot tears pricking his eyes again. “I wish I wasn’t special, and that the other kids didn’t look at me funny. I wish we could just pretend I wasn’t adopted, that we could pretend I’m your real son. I wish I was normal like everyone else.”

Reaching out, Jonathan gently grasped the boy’s arms. “You _are_ my real son. You are _my_ _son_. And I don’t want anything bad to ever happen to you. No matter who you are, or what you’re doing, you are a blessing. You’re an answer to our prayers. And when we have a blessing, we have to treasure it and keep it safe. We don’t take foolish risks. Right?”

He nodded tearfully.

“So, you need to do everything you can to control that special side to you, to keep it a secret, even from your friends in school. Are you gonna give me your word, Billy?”

“Yes. I promise.”

Nodding, Jonathan smiled. He then gazed at his son earnestly. “And I promise you that we will _never_ send you away.”

Emotions overwhelming him, William moved forward and threw his arms around his Pa’s neck, and cried into his shoulder, the woman with red hair and the letter momentarily forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> I have decided to take certain liberties with the running order of Season 7 episodes for the sake of logic and reason. In all honesty, Scully was not in Africa for months and months. The time span between "Biogenesis" and the "Sixth Extinction" episodes is most likely only a few weeks, a month at the most. That leaves a lot of time and unknown events between "Amor Fati" and "Millennium," for example. Plus, "The Goldberg Variation" aired following "Millennium" and yet we're supposed to believe that Mulder and Scully are running around Chicago in January without so much as a trench coat. I don't think so. So, I've made some very slight changes to the episode order for my own peace of mind. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> I'm also going to take some major liberties with Season 8 because 1013 fucked it up. Particularly the timeline, Mulder's Mysterious Stupid Ass Brain Disease That He Never Told Scully About Except That Mulder Actually Would Have If That Was Real, Mulder's apartment (who the hell continued to pay his rent and keep his furniture even after HE WAS DEAD AND BURIED IN THE GROUND FOR THREE MONTHS?!), Mulder being all "Who the hell knocked you up?", etc. There will also be some slight changes to IWTB. And of course some major character decisions for S10 will be completely ignored because as far as I'm concerned, they never happened. So, there will be some canon divergence and changes to certain things that I think need to be fixed for the sake of logic and reason.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Él es el Amo de su Destino, Ella es la Capitana de su Alma](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5651863) by [Akadiane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akadiane/pseuds/Akadiane)




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